Venezia
Saying goodbye to the kind and helpful staff at Hotel Al Santo, we caught the tram to the railway station to buy tickets to Venice’s Santa Lucia station (only €7 for two!). I was unable to work the validation machine until a fellow passenger interceded with a conductor on our behalf. Arriving in Venice, it was a short walk to the vaporetto dock – once we figured out which line we wanted, that is! – dropping us at “Mercato Rialto,” a very short walk to Pensione Guerrato located on a dark, alley-like street. Our room opened onto the fruit market below with glimpses of the Canal Grande beyond. Having settled in, we walked as far as the Piazza San Marco, fueled by a slice of pizza, returning to the hotel to rest and write postcards until the tour began at 4:00 p.m.
Alfio Di Mauro gathered the group for our initial orientation. He was filling in for our original guide who had been injured in an accident. Born and raised in Sicily and having studied in the United States before leading tours for Rick Steves, Alfio was well suited to guide us for the next nine days. I was pleasantly surprised by the number of young people in our group – almost as many Chris’ age or younger than mine – and how this tour seemed to attract first time travelers. He told us how Venice’s protective lagoon had saved them from the barbarians, about its small size (barely two square miles, if my math was correct), shrinking population and low crime rate. After introductions, some “ground rules,” and pairing up with “buddies,” we were off to Saint Mark’s Square and to our first meal together at Rialto Novo restaurant.
That night I welcomed the fresh air through open windows, the fruit market “night light” below, the towel-warmers, and the interesting old wall frescoes left exposed like a patchwork quilt in our room.
Saturday morning, our lively, knowledgeable and entertaining local guide, Elisabetta, led us through back alleys and out-of-the-way squares, and then through the dark and mysterious interior of Saint Mark’s Basilica, with its Byzantine forms, glittering mosaics and rolling marble floors, light slanting from windows through hazy salt air tinged with incense. I obeyed the “no photos” policy but was clearly in the minority among the crowds of gawking visitors like ourselves.
Leaving the crowds behind – what would it like in the height of the tourist season I wondered? – a private boat ride to Burano took about 45 minutes. There we walked past the colorful house façades, ate at a canal-side restaurant (yes, pizza again!), wandered through back streets, watching neighbors chatting over garden walls and cats lazing in the sun. Instead of the Lace Museum, we sat in the square and watched teenagers-acting-like-teenagers-everywhere before returning to the dock and chatting with tour mates, all in the shadow of the island’s tilting church tower.
The full first day concluded with an optional evening “pub crawl” – during which I sampled Spritz and Proseco and nibbled on cicchetti like meatballs and “toast” (think “panini”) – followed by a delightful gondola cruise for most of the group in a small flotilla of boats (with musicians) through narrow residential canals and under low bridges, attracting on-lookers and photographers at every turn.
Leaving the crowds behind – what would it like in the height of the tourist season I wondered? – a private boat ride to Burano took about 45 minutes. There we walked past the colorful house façades, ate at a canal-side restaurant (yes, pizza again!), wandered through back streets, watching neighbors chatting over garden walls and cats lazing in the sun. Instead of the Lace Museum, we sat in the square and watched teenagers-acting-like-teenagers-everywhere before returning to the dock and chatting with tour mates, all in the shadow of the island’s tilting church tower.
The full first day concluded with an optional evening “pub crawl” – during which I sampled Spritz and Proseco and nibbled on cicchetti like meatballs and “toast” (think “panini”) – followed by a delightful gondola cruise for most of the group in a small flotilla of boats (with musicians) through narrow residential canals and under low bridges, attracting on-lookers and photographers at every turn.
Seeing great art was one of the attractions of this particular Rick Steves’ tour for me and Sunday morning brought us into the presence of one of the world’s great collections at the Galleria dell'Accademia. Our local guide, Carlotta, escorted us through the highlights of the museum while it was still early and crowd-free. She did a fine job of setting the context and the evolution of Venetian painting. Time and again I found myself face-to-face with works I had studied years before, like Veronese’s Christ in the House of Levi and Giorgione’s The Tempest.
The group scattered after the Accademia, each to his or her own free-time destination. Chris and I headed toward the Doge’s Palace, stopping to buy the combo-ticket at the Correr Museum, to which we later returned. Tickets in hand, we bypassed the lengthy entrance line at the palace and began our self-guided tour using Rick’s “Sightseeing Supplement.” The scale and magnificence of the complex – as well as its connection to the basilica – must have presented an awe-inspiring sight to visitors during the heyday of the Venetian empire. From the apartments, through the Halls of Senate and Council, across the “Bridge of Sighs” and down into the damp dungeon, the palace was informative and enjoyable.
The group scattered after the Accademia, each to his or her own free-time destination. Chris and I headed toward the Doge’s Palace, stopping to buy the combo-ticket at the Correr Museum, to which we later returned. Tickets in hand, we bypassed the lengthy entrance line at the palace and began our self-guided tour using Rick’s “Sightseeing Supplement.” The scale and magnificence of the complex – as well as its connection to the basilica – must have presented an awe-inspiring sight to visitors during the heyday of the Venetian empire. From the apartments, through the Halls of Senate and Council, across the “Bridge of Sighs” and down into the damp dungeon, the palace was informative and enjoyable.
Wanting a view from “above,” we opted for the bell tower on San Giorgio’s island rather than the crowded Campanile. When I failed to ask for round-trip ferry fares to the island, the indignant ticket seller want to know “and how do you expect to get back?” The elevator ticket vendor at the church must have been her “brother,” judging by his attitude! The views from the top were spectacular even though the weather was gray and hazy, while the “three o’clock” bell was a little too close for comfort. The paintings in the stone-cold church, some by Tintoretto, were well worth seeing.
Since my feet were aching by this time, we returned to the hotel for a brief rest, venturing out next to see the Frari, sharing an iPod feed in order to listen to Rick Steves’ audio-tour of that art-filled Gothic Church. We dined at a neighborhood ristorante on Campo San Polo before returning to our room to begin packing, to review sight-seeing possibilities in Florence, and to drop into an exhausted sleep.
We were the last to show up outside the hotel with our bags for our short walk to the vaporetto stop the following morning. The group had been pretty punctual – maybe Alfio’s good-natured “threat” that later-comers would have to treat everyone to gelato had something to do with it. Monday morning “commuter” traffic on the canal made for standing-room-only conditions and a brisk transfer to a second boat before we arrived at the Tronchetto and our waiting coach, passing under the new Calatrava bridge along the way.
Alfio made good use of the time on the bus to familiarize us with grades of wine, Florentine cuisine, recommended movies, and how to order coffee (pay at the cashier, stand at the counter to drink it). We had a chance to practice the latter at our first Auto Grill stop, and to order lunch at the second. Though the weather was cloudy and chilly, we were able to appreciate the changing terrain on our way to Firenze, from the flat Po River delta to the forested mountain spine of the Italian peninsula.
Since my feet were aching by this time, we returned to the hotel for a brief rest, venturing out next to see the Frari, sharing an iPod feed in order to listen to Rick Steves’ audio-tour of that art-filled Gothic Church. We dined at a neighborhood ristorante on Campo San Polo before returning to our room to begin packing, to review sight-seeing possibilities in Florence, and to drop into an exhausted sleep.
We were the last to show up outside the hotel with our bags for our short walk to the vaporetto stop the following morning. The group had been pretty punctual – maybe Alfio’s good-natured “threat” that later-comers would have to treat everyone to gelato had something to do with it. Monday morning “commuter” traffic on the canal made for standing-room-only conditions and a brisk transfer to a second boat before we arrived at the Tronchetto and our waiting coach, passing under the new Calatrava bridge along the way.
Alfio made good use of the time on the bus to familiarize us with grades of wine, Florentine cuisine, recommended movies, and how to order coffee (pay at the cashier, stand at the counter to drink it). We had a chance to practice the latter at our first Auto Grill stop, and to order lunch at the second. Though the weather was cloudy and chilly, we were able to appreciate the changing terrain on our way to Firenze, from the flat Po River delta to the forested mountain spine of the Italian peninsula.