Venice in the Rearview Mirror

 [Being Part 1 of the necessarily incomplete reflections on our recent sojourn in Italy.]

I read, somewhat ironically in a book about Venice, that everything that could be written about Venice had already been written. So let me proceed.

Venice is a city of windows. Centuries ago they might have been stain glass windows in a myriad of churches and squolas  - ornate guild halls. Today they define the endless, gleaming, ranks of various commercial entities. High end luxury outlets nestle against Michelin-starred eateries, corner bars and walk-up sandwich shops. All strung together by mask shops, glass and art galleries and kitsch tourist traps. Windows, windows everywhere nourished by millions of eyes.

And there are some interesting distinguishing characteristics regarding those eyes, and the faces in which they are housed. The majority of our time in Venice fell during Carnival - a mixed blessing. First, I must point out that Carnival is a very different critter than Mandi Gras in New Orleans or the similarity named Carnival in Rio; both of which border on the bacchanalian.  In Venice, Carnival is a rather sophisticated costume affair. Elegantly dressed figures in full medieval costumes parade the streets - you may rent your own finery at any number of shops - and then greet the dawn, perhaps as a gondola slides homeward on sable dark canals. While I am compiling a full reel to provide to the family - which you can request by dropping me a note - Here are a few more edited selections of the endless shots we felt compelled to gather:

Yes, it is both gracious, and incredibly crowded. While Venice itself can only boost of a modest population of somewhere between 50 and 70K, it can swell by an additional 120,000 visitors during the busiest days. Carnival itself brings in 3 million a year. During these influxes the streets, all delightfully auto-free but often tiny, are packed with folks doing the Venice Shuffle, feet sliding along but rarely approaching what your phone or whatever devise would register as an actual "step." And here I must admit to having made some gender-based observations regarding the Venice Shuffle. Women are relatively unfazed by the Venice Shuffle, and will occasionally come to a full stop in front of a particularly attractive version of one of the aforementioned windows.

A metaphor might be helpful here. Consider, if you will, the impact of a log suddenly getting snagged on the banks of a flood-swollen waterway. Nothing as overwhelming as the Mississippi or the Nile. Some waterway that is normally just a fair to middlin' stream, but quite respectable come springtime. Well, that log brings that whole side of the stream to a dead standstill as other hunks of flotsam and jetsam jam up behind it trying to bust through or find away around.

Now imagine that stream is a Venetian street at Carnival with a woman suddenly entranced and frozen before such a window. Chaos ensues, but with typical Venetian subtlety. The flood halts momentarily, then surges around them, leaving eddies of various degrees. And caught up in those eddies will be any guy who is accompanying the blockage: "What the h'?" he mutters, but then quickly gloms onto the closest wall and lets the stream rush past, a force of nature and/or Carnival. The phenomenon can be further exacerbated when the aforementioned window-gazer sees, reflected in her window, an equally entrancing window in the wall behind her and sets forth fearlessly - crossing the flood to gaze stolidly at that window. Use your imagination and your grown-up words.

But enough of street fighting - let me move on to two of the three neatest things about our stay.

I am intentionally leaving out the art and the architecture - both stunning and available on numerous online sites. But I must mention going to The Marriage of Figaro at La Fenice, the historic opera house in town. It was truly stunning. Of course the building takes your breath away - but the voices, the staging, the silly but delightful story. Really one for the bucket list. Look for images online - more than my phone could capture!

More prosaic but delightful in their own way were our our hotel and the food. Christine found our hotel, The Palazzo Pisani online. It was a classic old Venetian building on the Grand Canal. Upon checking in we discovered that we had been upgraded to a sort of suite on the top floor. The good news was that we had three large marble-floored rooms and a full bath all to ourselves. The main room contained a huge queen/king-sized bed, a desk, coffee table, large screen TV, and a lounge, with four big windows with little balconies looking out over the Grand Canal. Then there was a reading room with an expresso machine, sofa and a couple of chairs, and, a second bedroom with a queen-sized bed. Here take a look, first the main room and then the view out the windows:

[I go into such detail about the accommodations partially to compare them to the "four star" facilities we found in Florence. But I also feel compelled to mention that the staff in both places were incredible! Kind, accommodating, gentle. Need to send a bunch of folks from our "service industry" over there for some lessons!]

And now the food. Venice sits on over a hundred little islands in what is called the Venetian Lagoon off the Adriatic Sea. It is absurd to order any land-based meals here. Beef will get its just deserts when we head up to Florence. Here if it swims eat it, usually on top of pasta. We had things that go by the same name at home - Sea Bass, crabs, scallops, clams, salmon, etc. But they just tasted different, fresher, a "just out of the lagoon" flavor that was wonderful. And, of course, gelato, as different from what we get by that name at home as were the swimming thingies. And then of course there was the wine which we felt obliged to sample. There were the traditional "black rooster" vintages which we did splurge on, but then there was this "mico-vinyard" which produced a very tiny number of bottles, each numbered and signed by the wine maker! Yummy!

And then there were the breakfasts - included naturally. Heavy on the pastries and a nifty little boil-your-own egg station with cool little nets into which you placed your egg - scooping it out after the duration of your choice into one of those neat little European egg cups. And, of course, fresh fruit and a cappuccino and some type of juice on the side. And the gentle staff were all very understanding as I hustled various portions back up to the room for sleeping beauty. I mean I was taking the stairs!

Which leads me to what would I change about our little sojourn by the lagoon? The stairs. There were 60 of them leading to our aerie above the Grand Canal. I counted them - every time. I mentioned the incredibly chivalrous staff, who, upon observing that we were people "of a certain age" did inquire if we wished to use the "lift." I ventured it once. 

You entered using a different door and key from the main entrance to the hotel which gave you access to what I can best describe as a mirrored phone booth, maybe a touch smaller. Upon pushing the button to your floor - for us the top - the doors closed and with no further sound or indications of floors or movement, and after what seemed a very long time, the doors opened to an alcove around the corner from a large sitting room leading eventually to our door.

I am a touch claustrophobic, and Christine's picture appears in most dictionaries that define the condition. Stairs are good for you. Great cardiovascular workout. Enough said.