Tag: Venice walks

Stories of Venice part three

We are at the Hotel H10 Palazzo Canova. I’ve found it to be one of the only rooftop bars with a view in Venice. It’s not stipulated online whether it’s for hotel guests only and my attitude after being ‘caged’ for 6 months pushes me to try my luck. I’m dressed casually and this place is beautiful. We walk straight in ‘like we own the joint’ and head around to the bank of lifts. Hit the ‘bar’ button and walk out onto a stone terrace with the most phenomenal backdrop. 

The terrace overlooks the Grand Canal. Leaning slightly over the balustrade gives you a wonderful view of the Rialto Bridge, it isn’t the whole picture but it’s enough to make me want to squeak excitedly. The staff are so friendly and accommodating, they show us the QR codes on the table. When scanning them with our phones, we are able to bring up the menus with an English option. We order coffees and sit in the afternoon sun. This is the first time we have stopped and watched Venice’s world go by. I am transfixed on the water and all the boats moving about. The whole scene is intoxicating. Gondolas, vaporetto, people, smiles. It’s as if Covid doesn’t exist. It is by sitting for a while we realise how tired we are and adjust our plans for the day. This is very strange for me. I’ll usually walk til I drop. But I’m either out of practice or Venice demands your full attention, you need to sit and stay. NO! Seriously, stop. Enjoy. Drink it in. And that’s what we did. We sat laughing, talking and enjoying it all. Whatever plans were left for today could be done tomorrow, or when we return, I don’t think I had noticed at the time, but I had fallen head over heels for Venice and deep down was already planning the next trip. So if we didn’t finish the plans that day, we’d do it another time! I’m too busy watching the rows upon rows of gondolas rolling on the canal below. There is something so beautiful about their shiny finish and red interiors. 

Mr W made it quite clear when we arrived he had no interest in going in a gondola, we’re both really uncomfortable with being ‘served’. So being in a boat, with the gondolier transporting us about, is something unimaginable. But who said because I don’t want to ride in one I can’t watch those people! You can literally see their faces transform as they mentally tick that box on their bucket list. They are here. They’ve done it. A lifelong dream, a spur of the moment bit of fun or claiming back a missed opportunity due to covid.

I find for the third time, I do not want to leave, but we have dinner plans, and they’re quite special. In the last few years, Mr W and I have enjoyed a cheesy little tradition when we travel. I’ve always laughed when you see a Mcdonalds bursting at the seams when abroad. Don’t the customers know there is a Mcdonalds on every street corner. But as I’ve grown, I’ve started to acknowledge the ease of a fast food joint, the cheaper option, not having to worry about the language barrier and simply enjoying what you enjoy. So, with that in mind, wherever we go, we’ll check if they have a Hard Rock Cafe. We both love the music, the cocktails and we always buy Mr W a t-shirt. It also helps that this is the year we celebrate our 2nd wedding anniversary, which happens to be cotton, so the gift shop is calling out to me! It’s also a surprise for Mr W, we are afterall celebrating his birthday by being here.

We enjoy our food, dance along to the music and head back into the throngs of Venice. We idle away the time wandering the canals until nightfall and we find ourselves in St Mark’s Square. It is unbelievably quiet. There are pianos being played for the patrons of the night-time dwellers. There are less than 20 people in the entire space. It feels so personal. We stop to enjoy the music. For the second time today we stop to drink it all in. It’s our last night and rather than be sad, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude to be here. The world is phasing in and out of restrictions every week. In May 2020, it was possible to travel to Greece and Spain from the UK and not have to worry about isolating on your return. Every Thursday the red, amber and green travel list was updated, and every week it brought new countries into the green and pushed others into the red. The situation was always changing and taking the risk to book our trip to Italy for September was a tough decision. We made the leap because financially the risk was very small. The emotional risk of losing the trip again was a bigger one to us. So just getting out of the country was a big enough deal, without finding this place half empty and yet so full of life. While that piano played, it felt all so surreal, to be in the midst of a pandemic and feel happy. Not happy about the pandemic, but in spite of it. We still clung to parts of ourselves we thought all too lost. 

The next morning brings new adventures and the return of the fog. Except the fog is thicker and there is rain in the air. Today we fly home, which means our backpacks return to our shoulders and we have to face the elements. We have breakfast, take one final nap and head into the winding walkways. The venetian waters are lapping over the edges of the Riva degli Schiavoni and parts of St Mark’s Square have giant puddles. The water reflects St Mark’s Basilica, a beautiful time to reflect on the last six days.  Large raised walkways have been erected, it seems that Venice is preparing for a high tide. There is a light rain and we decide to take it easier today. Mr W takes out his trusty google map app, a godsend through our whole visit, and we head towards the Ponte dell’ Accademia. 

The fog lifts and the light of the grey sky reflects differently on the wet cobbles. The walk is slower paced and it becomes sadder the closer we get to going home. The rain sets the emotion of the day perfectly. We come to the dark wooden bridge that spans the Grand Canal, and we say another goodbye to a true icon of Venice. From here it is a 10 minute walk to Fondamente Salute, the alleys here wind more than ever, the bridges and canals are very small, it feels like a hidden part of town. Art Galleries line the streets with gated courtyards to tempt the eyes. We reach Fondamente Salute and look out across the Bacino San Marco. The water is rough and laps up to where we stand, we stay for a while looking out and over the Campanile di San Marco. Turning away from one of the most iconic landmarks in the whole of Venice feels like the trip is already over.

We walk away, the rain has stopped but the water is starting to flood the streets. We take a brief moment to stop in front of the Basilica di Santa Maria della Salute. The building is on a platform of stone, with stairs leading up to its vast front doors. It is hauntingly beautiful, in the grey of the day it merges into the sky and then back into the water. It feels as if the stairs lead you into the water. I know now that my love affair with this place is far from over. 

We cross a small bridge in the Dorsoduro and have to wade through an ankle deep puddle. A man stands on the other side, trying to sell us plastic booties that will keep our feet dry, he looks at us with his eyebrows raised when we walk straight through. We pause in a tiny Trattoria Pizzeria for Cicchetti and talk to the owner about the weather. Of all things. It seems apt to discuss rain in Venice. In broken English he tries his best to tell us about the floods that devastated the community in 2019. He shows us on his polished bar where the water came up to. I look at the table in front of me, in those depths it would be completely submerged. We continued to listen as he explained he’d replaced all his kitchen equipment just before covid snatched away his livelihood. And yet despite the last 10 months, he is here talking to us, smiling and sharing his story. 

I thought alot about that man on the coach to the airport. His story, his enthusiasm, his strength. It brought the whole trip full circle. The feeling of being uncaged, the beauty of an awakening country and the strength we were all regaining. It made me realise that despite the horrors of the pandemic, life would carry on and we could either be submerged by it, losing ourselves in the process, or rise above to fight again. 

Photo by Dave Watson

Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com/ 

Stories of Venice – Part two

Burano. The island is small, inviting and colourful. The research does not prepare you. I doubt anything could. Each house is so vivid in colour and yet so dignified in size. The juxtaposition sets this island aside from its neighbouring islands. Again my eyes dart back and forth between postcard moments, I do not want to leave. There’s the stroll to Bepi’s house that captures my attention for a moment, and yet this Instagram famous locale doesn’t quench my thirst for ‘more’. 

I remember the Bussola cookies, famously made in Burano, and grab two from a cafe busting at the seams with Italian treats. The Venetian butter cookie is round, with a hole in the middle similar to a donut and almost cakey in its texture, it is delicious and gorgeously light. The shop is closing and I regret not buying more. As we wander I see small restaurants line the streets and feel I am imposing on this community. We pass a small shop doorway and inside sits a lady, she is working on lace, another famous product of this beautiful island. I can’t help but watch her, she is unsmiling and focused and yet seems entirely untroubled. I wonder what it would be like to move into her mind, to be doing something creative, to have lived here a lifetime and feel untouched by city life. It is peaceful and it is enough. I envy her.  

We wander and wander, our feet tired but unnoticed until we come upon the Tre Ponti. One of many bridges we have crossed and seen today, but holding a beauty of engineering that is special. After the selfies finish we find the spot I timed the entire day around. Mr W wonders why we are here. It is the end of the Fondamenta di Cao Moleca and there is only water stretching before us. End of the line. The sky by now is a light amber. Silence has found us and we sit for what seems like an eternity and no time at all. I know we have to leave, the boat timetable demands it, our feet demand it, but I think I left a part of me behind that day. A wondering of a simpler life. With waters lapping and colour exploding the island into life. Simple pleasures of fishermen, lace makers and bakers, living untaintedly. 

The trip demanded that we carry on and our boat glided into the venetian night. By the time we stopped on the main island, night had fallen so completely that we found the canals in utter darkness. There was something so eerie about the odd streetlight that lit the buildings that I asked Mr W to take the lead. I felt sleepy and hungry. My eyes had not stopped and despite my yawning, would still not stop their roving and rambling of buildings and bridges. Passing restaurants that spilled their clientele out onto the streets. A small bar opposite our hotel offered the most delectable sandwiches and not long after devouring them in a most unladylike manner I fell into a dreamless sleep. 

The late night wanderings behind us, the hotel’s vast continental breakfast set us up for the day ahead. The hotel sat on a small sidestreet and when opening the shutters I felt that if I reached one arm out I could touch the building opposite. There is something so intimate about the layout of this place. As we reached the Riva degli Schiavoni we found ourselves lost in an early morning swirling fog. It was a shock after the beaming sunshine of the previous day. Saint Marks square looked desolate and sad without its visitors. We grabbed the chance to ascend the Campanile di San Marco, I felt transported back to the Empire State building. The lift had an attendant and a metal light panel that traced your journey to the top. Arriving at 09:30am served us well and we were one of two couples taking in the scenes below. Even through the fog, Venice lay out its carpet of red roofs so thickly you could not see the canals weaving their way through the island. Even the Grand Canal was lost in the fray. Again the intimacy of this place surprised me. Once used to guard Venice and guide boats on their approach, it now seems to watch over the island as its keeper and chaperone. From the lofty height you can see the astounding roof of the Basilica, its neighbour the Doge’s Palace and the infamous clock tower. For what it lacks in comparable size to its nearby celebrities it makes up for in intricacy and personality. I can imagine people aplenty whiling away the time, enjoying a drink and watching time tick by from this very square. At the mouth of the Grand Canal I spy the Basilica di Santa Maria della Salute perched on the San Marco basin. It is an enormous structure that dominates the west of the island’s skyline. It reminds me of the other dome topped buildings that impose so pleasantly on the eye around the world. The Sacrè Coeur in Paris. St Pauls in London. And it’s Italian friend Basilica di San Pietro in Vatican City. Mr W and I are not religious people, but we find ourselves drawn to these places in awe.

A short chilly walk from St Mark’s we find another Instagram made-famous site. Liberia Acqua Alta, a bookshop that has embraced the floods that plague the island. There are books everywhere. They fill bathtubs, walls and canoes alike. In the midst of the shop, a full size Gondola sits keeping the books safe and dry. In the side and rear courtyards there are hundreds of books that have succumbed to the rising waters and sit proud, not too unlike sandbags protecting dwellings. It speaks to my inner bookworm and makes my creative soul scream in elation. This place is both beautiful and mysterious. I’m drawn in by the literature and hugged by the winding racks of the written word. I feel as if I am at a flea market and purchase an old print of Venice inself for one euro. There is also a cat sleeping atop a stack of books, resident or no, it seems at home nonetheless. I am in heaven. 

Meandering through the streets we head to Baci & Pasta, a small eatery with fresh pasta and gnocchi on the menu. I order the bolognese tagliatelle and Mr W has the pumpkin gnocchi. We wait outside while the friendly owner does his thing, still nervous about being in enclosed areas. It is only then we notice the lack of benches. Were we not particularly looking for them before or does Venice just not have them? There is a small well in the centre of the Campo with a very shallow step framing it. We choose to sit/squat here to eat. My loud inner foodie approves of the quality of the pasta and my quieter internal eco-warrior is happy for the wooden cutlery and paper bowls. A resident cat comes to say hello and it is then I realise Mr W hasn’t said anything. I glance over, prepared for his ‘cat-lady anywhere she goes’ style mockings and find his face drowning in contentment. The food he says is amazing. Triumphant tones play in my mind, girl did good!

We drag ourselves away from the campo and source dessert. Tre Mercanti sits aside a bridge and has the biggest assortment of tiramisu I have ever seen. Hey, when in Rome, give or take a mile or two! It’s delicious and just enough to satisfy the sweet tooth. It is also empty. A sign that we are early to eat and also of the quietness of the whole island. It’s something I am glad of when walking the narrow streets. They are intimate now but during the high season I imagine the intimacy can be quite suffocating. I am reminded of how lucky we are to be here. 

We realise we are making good time and change up our timings for the day, we head to the Palazzo Contarini del Bovolo, a structure that needs to be witnessed to be believed. A spiral staircase leads you to the roof of this many arch-windowed tower and draws your eye across the rooftops and towards this morning’s Campanile. It is beautiful for sure, however I have the nagging feeling its fame owes a lot to being another Instagram hotspot. Only open since 2016, I hope this place becomes recognised for its quirks rather than its hashtag value. Up here we realise the fog has lifted and Italy graces us with another cloudless blue sky. This will make or break the next port of call for sure. 

Through the winding streets we wander, stopping to goggle over the incredible handmade Venetian masks, hung in their hauntingly beautiful way and practically dribble over the chocolate shops. We are invited to taste what’s on offer and honestly what kind of cultural fanatic would I be if I said no? The sweet treat shops here are phenomenal. There are glistening fountains of melted chocolate, barrels of macarons in colours befitting a rainbow and boxes of coffee beans in their abundance. I finally understand the advice you see online. Wandering around Venice is how you find its truth. It takes you firmly and embraces you in its welcome. 

I realise the worth of the advice and find myself stopping atop the next bridge. Something is in the water. Fish of all sizes swim just below the surface that laps against the submerged steps. They are a fair size and I am reminded of the dolphins that once played here during the height of Italy’s lockdown. It is a moment of reflection and a nudging reminder that this place is so much more than can ever be described. It needs to be seen. To be felt.

We find our way to the Rialto Bridge. It is smaller than I imagine, but its presence is everything. I find my inner tourist screams out for the selfies to be taken from every angle possible and am glad of it. The amount of people pales in comparison to the photos you see online. Covid has changed this place so much. I am warmed by the return of the few people here today, Italy will be restored in time that much I am sure of.

Next stop is the rooftop of T Fondaco dei Tedeschi, a free attraction in Venice and one of its top tourist sites. Sitting atop a department store I find myself wildly underdressed climbing its red escalators, it is similar to Macy’s or Harrods and screams MONEY loudly and proudly. There is a short wait for our time slot, but it is of no real bother, what it gives back is simply one of the best views I can ever have the pleasure of seeing in my lifetime. There’s the Grand Canal, the Rialto, rooftops, the now familiar building facades and the sky. So much sky. Behind us are the tokens of St Mark’s Square and I am left speechless. This whole place is so very special. I reiterate again, I do not want to leave. 

Dragged away by my need for coffee, we cross the Rialto and walk the Riva del Vin. I have spent a lot of time on the hunt for this place. It became clear to me in the process that I must have a ‘thing’ for skylines. To bask as they do in the sun and look across and down at the picture of splendour from above. We approach the address and head inside…

For photos of this trip please head to Frameworktravel on Instagram or Facebook which will be shared very soon!

Crashing a hotel bar