A Magical Day in Venice

A big thunderstorm passed through last night.  Loud claps of thunder followed by bright stabs of lightening lit the sky.  And then torrential rain.  I watched it from the safety of my apartment’s window and felt the humid air become cool and refreshing.  It felt like the city was washed clean.

This morning I relax with tea and my book on the little patio.  I’m meeting for my tour to Murano, Burano and Torcello islands a bit later this morning so instead of running around with my head cut off, I’ve opted to be lazy.  From my perch above the canal I see the barges offloading supplies to the porters, the man at the market putting out his bins of fruit and vegetables, and parents walking their children to school.  An elderly woman walks past with three brown dachshunds, their little legs trotting quickly to keep up.  Neighbours call out good morning to each other and the woman across the canal opens her shuttered windows and lets the morning air in.  Venice is waking up.

The water bus to Murano is about 20 minutes and gives me a new perspective of all the little islands that surround the mainland.  Arriving at the pier, I race away as we only have an hour to explore and I want to see as much as possible of this quaint town.  It has it’s own grand canal like Venice, but smaller and less busy.  A lot of the buildings are constructed out of brick and boats are lined up along the canal.  Murano is known for it’s Venetian glass artisans and the galleries are full of beautiful,  intricate pieces.  The glass blowers were recently on strike due to the government raising the price of gas (gas is used when blowing the glass), and they felt the exorbitant price was going to ruin their livelihood.

Next stop is the island of Tortello which has just a few inhabitants now.  Other than a beautiful cathedral, a few restaurants and one of the few bridges in Venice that doesn’t have handrails there’s not much here.  The canal has ducklings paddling along with the current and there’s a mini vineyard beside a quaint church.

We head to the last island, Burano, which is a fishing village known for it’s production of lace and it’s super colourful homes.  As per village ordinance, an owner is not allowed to change the colour of their home.  They’re painted neon yellows, blues, oranges, reds, greens and purples.  It’s a colour wheel of houses.  Back in the day, the bright colours assisted the fisherman find their homes when returning from a day on the water.  I could spend a day here.  This place is an absolute gem.  In hindsight, I shouldn’t have booked a tour and just come by water bus on my own.  I don’t like having to rush when I want to wander the little alleys.  Next time.

Back to Venice and I do a little shopping at the local deli for my charcuterie creation for this evening’s meal before my gondola ride.  I prime myself with meats, cheeses, fruit and Prosecco and head out to find my gondolier,  Luca.  I meet him in the Jewish Ghetto area and we walk to the bridge where his gondola is.  He seems surprised that it’s just me going for the ride.  Yes, I know this is supposed to be a romantic thing one does with their significant other while in Venice, but I’ve been waiting for twenty years for that to happen and have given up, so it’s just me Luca!

Luca is a third generation gondolier and the gondola was built by his grandfather seventy-two years ago.  It’s absolutely beautiful and shaped a little differently than the other ones that I’ve seen with a wider base and lower prow.  Luca has been rowing these waters since he was seven and took over the gondola from his father twenty-two years ago.  There are 450 licensed gondoliers in Venice and his licence number is three.

We glide effortlessly through the water and Luca maneuvers the tight corners with practiced ease.  He provides commentary on the buildings we pass and I can tell he has a passion for his city.  I’ve confirmed with him that both Venice is sinking and the water levels are rising.  The sinking part they can’t fix, but they may be able to control the rising waters.  It’s the norm for it to flood every winter and it sinks a couple of centimetres each year.  What will Venice look like twenty years from now?  Will it even be here?  Where there were once doors backing onto the canal they are now bricked up due to the level of water.  If they had left the door, the ground floor would be under water.  Some of the buildings are obviously sinking and are off-kilter. 

My ride is supposed to be 45 minutes and after an hour I remind Luca but he doesn’t seem bothered.  He asks me if I would like him to sing and I tell him that if he’s serious I would love it.  He breaks into an old Italian gondolier tune and it’s a bit magical to be floating down a canal in Venice, in the sunshine, with Luca singing.  Part of me wishes someone else could’ve been here to share it with me.  These are the times that traveling solo can feel a little lonely, but Luca is an absolute treasure and he makes the moment memorable.  

We dock back where we started over an hour later and he tells me that because I was on my own, he did a little extra for me.  I thank him profusely and give an extra tip as a gesture of my gratefulness.  He tells me it’s too much but I say,

You did extra for me, so I do extra for you.  Grazie!

Luca and I part ways and I go in search of a sunset.  I find a couple bridges in the side alleys of Cannaregio and make note of them to come back to closer to the time the sun is setting.  I haven’t really explored this area yet despite staying in it, so I find some of the spots that Luca had pointed out on our ride.  

After sunset, I make my way to the Ponte Maria Callas as it looks pretty all lit up at night.  As I’m taking a photo, I hear classical music coming from the windows above me.  It sounds like a live concert.  When I walk past an open door, the long entryway is lit with candles.  The woman standing at the door tells me that it’s a private concert for twenty-five people.  I ask her if it’s ok for me to photograph the entryway and she nods.  As I’m about to pack up, she asks if I would like to come inside.  Um, yes!  Of course!  She leads me through the hallway and upon exiting we enter a small outdoor garden that is lit up by candles ensconced in decorative glass boxes.  I gasp,

This is so beautiful!  

She seems delighted that I love the space and asks me if I would send her the photos I take.  I tell her I would be happy to although I won’t be able to do it justice.  It’s just so overwhelmingly beautiful with the music echoing from above, flickering candlelight bouncing off the marble walls.  I can’t believe I’m here.  She takes my arm and says she’s going to sneak me inside for a moment, but if any of the guests approach we’ll have to leave.  We enter a room upstairs that is full of candles with a small stage at the end.  The ceilings are decorated with paintings, the furniture appears to be from centuries ago and the performers are dressed in baroque-style costumes.  This is unreal.  We listen for a few minutes and then head back downstairs.  I tell her that was absolutely magical and as I put a hand to my heart, I tell her that the music and the surroundings really got to me.  

I head back to my apartment in a daze.  How did that even happen?  I still have the music floating through my head.  What a night.