Venice, Italy
Up at 3am. Sleep was restless and nervous as it often is prior to travelling. That slight fear and excitement of not knowing what to expect and not knowing if I’d sleep through the alarm.
Leeds-Bradford International Airport is a dump of an airport. Small and dirty. Breakfast at 5am and buying the Venice and Veneto Lonely Planet in the store. Jet2 are at the low end of the budget airlines. Overpriced food, lousy airline staff. A bus with wings if ever there was one. Fortunately the plane is filled with familiar faces.
It was a beautiful day to fly to Venice. The views were spectacular over Europe and the lack of cloud gave a wonderful view of the Alps. As usual the Jet2 landing is shoddy.
Of course, the beauty of travelling in a group of 10 can save a little money on the price of a bus ticket from Marco Polo airport to Venice. A water taxi gives the direct pleasure of a direct route up the canals and avoids the slower bus.
Venice comes into view and the movie sets of old become a reality. The reality of Venice, as with all well known tourist areas, is different. The initial views don’t inspire. The familiarity of the fictional world of Venice is destroyed from the decay of a city built on a swamp. The Rialto Bridge is branded. Advertising hangs off everything designed for the attention of the tourist.
Venice is about narrow streets, canals and no sense of planning. Everywhere is busy. Tourists and locals mix in a mass throng. No one is polite. Everyone pushes on through in a constant rush hour mass of bodies.
A long brunch of coffee ensues. Coffee is everything and without the world of Corporate America. There is the realisation that all the women in Venice have style. No one carries their handbag in their elbow and no one copies that cheap, chav WAG look as English girls do. There is beauty everywhere and Venice begins to look like an interesting place.
Venice is starting to grow on me.
Finding the hotels becomes a fun task. Some in the middle of the island, neatly hidden in an alleyway. My hotel, the Hotel Malibran, lies within easy reach of the Rialto Bridge and looks a nice simple place. The man speaks English with a mix of an Italian and American accent. The chambermaid is as cute as any woman I’ve seen so far today.
Walking from the hordes of tourists on the Rialto Bridge to the hordes of tourists in St Mark’s Square, the beauty of Venice starts to show. The mass of people in St Mark’s match the pigeons. Thousands flock in and out. There are accents and languages from all over the world. The English, Italian, French, German, Australian, American. Organised school parties follow adults waving stick in the air.
Taking a trip up the Bell Tower shows off Venice from very high up. Everyone prays the bells don’t ring! The views are spectacular. My own personal love of seeing everything from this height. Every city should have it’s height, from the Bell Tower in Venice to the Rialto Observation Deck in Melbourne. Every red roof and dome is shown. No street can be seen between the buildings. The churches stand out.
No trip to Venice would be complete without coffee at Café Florian. This is where Byron, Proust, Dickens, Carlo Goldoni, Goethe and Casanova drank coffee (great lovers came here as Florian was the only place which allowed women) and as Florian has existed as a coffee place since 1720 the quality of the coffee is excellent. The additional €6 fee for the pleasure of sitting down may put off some but the string quartet need paying.
The opening day ends with a wonderful meal at the Bistrot de Venise, sitting outside and eating some of the old world Venice dishes featuring plenty of seafood. Venice really isn’t the place to be if you don’t like fish or seafood.
