| 18 May, 2008 |
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Venice 2005 Debs and I fancied a short break away from everything so we headed for the European medieval city of Venice for three nights. Day 1 - Monday 21 March The only problem with getting the bus quite so early in the morning to get to Heathrow, is that you share the journey with four hundred million school kids, all shrieking and bickering while they fiddle with the latest craze - plaiting plastic strips together (boys as well as girls). Seemingly, Jamie Oliver's recent TV programme 'Jamie's School Dinners' has had very little effect on the youth of today. As we sat at the back of the bus on the way to Heathrow, at just after eight in the morning, two school kids were consuming a bottle of Coke and a doughnut with pink icing respectively. No wonder the doughnut scoffer was a plump, rounded lad with several bellies and even more chins. But hey, we were leaving all that behind for a few days and jetting off to Venice to spend some time immersed in history, culture and class. Yes, I can be a snob. Heathrow airport is always full of people. And as it is always full of people, it is always full of different kinds of people, which can lead to a lot of entertainment for someone like me. The first incident of note was when a man's daughter ran up the stairs towards the coffee house, but there was a person coming down the stairs. "Careful of that man!" the father warned, as his daughter raced towards the person's kneecaps. The daughter missed and the man looked at the person apologetically, before realising it was actually a woman with shortish hair. "Woman, sorry" he added, to try to make amends. Too late, I was already laughing. And then there was the Australian couple who bought a hot chocolate each from the cafe, only to bring it back to the counter five minutes later claiming that it was "too hot". Not being able to do anything about it, the man behind the counter simply shrugged which riled the woman into hissing "well we'll take our business elsewhere then" as if it was some trade deal worth thousands of pounds. IT'S A HOT CHOCOLATE - THE CLUE IS IN THE NAME. As we wandered out of the airport in Venice, we had no idea where our hotel was, how to get there, or even an address. Remembering that it was in Saint Mark's Square (Piazza San Marco), we hopped on a water taxi (for there are no roads in Venice) and awaited our stop. Fortunately our hotel was one of the posh ones by the opening of the Grand Canal, so it was easy to find once we arrived. After unpacking, we wandered the streets of San Marco, got very very lost (as is impossible to avoid) and just generally found ourselves wandering down meandering streets in the faint hope that we might stumble across a bustling courtyard or a tourist attraction. Talking of tourists, Venice is full of them. 12 million a year so my guide book tells me. That's a million a month. Quite a lot. Most of them are groups of school children on a cultural trip, and the rest are American. A great combination. Evening drew near, so we took advantage of our 25% discount and dined in our hotel restaurant. Not knowing any Italian, we were both at a loss as to what was actually on offer. Debs knew she wanted to sample authentic Italian pizza, as well as lasagne and spaghetti bolognese at some point during our short stay, so she was scouring the menu for these items, to no avail. "Jack", she said, looking up from the menu "what's the Italian for spaghetti bolognese?" The laughter inside me nearly made me implode. In the end, as we were feeling a bit daring, we both opted for something on the menu that we did not know the translation of. We still didn't know what it was when both our plates were empty and the next course was being (rather rapidly) produced. The hotel (Hotel Savoia & Jolanda) we stayed in was 4 star and the clientele certainly reflected that - peering eyes were persistently scouring the room for any bad manners in the search for something to talk about over dinner. Personally I couldn't care less if the fuddy duddy two tables away thinks the way I hold my fork is offensive, why doesn't she stop criticising for once in her miserable life, forget about acting posh and snooty and enjoy herself. The fork incident didn't actually happen by the way, but we certainly were observed a couple of times at breakfast, this is just something I wanted to rant about. To be fair, if I had been standing over the fuddy duddy with the fork aggressively poised in the stance of a dagger, she might have the right to raise some concerns. Day 2 - Tuesday 22 March After a breakfast of bacon, egg, pain au chocolat, fruit juice, bread rolls, cereal, croissants and a pot of tea, Debs and I felt we had enough energy to tackle our planned exploratory trip through the streets of San Marco, over the Rialto bridge into San Polo, then down through the alleys to Dorsoduro. But before I get into that, let me just recount a little anecdote about Debs and some Burro. After her bacon and eggs, Debs fancied some toast and butter while I was happy munching on pain au chocolat and fruity croissants. As she held the small foil packet of Burro in front of her, she paused and questioned "this is butter, isn't it?" holding the soft rectangle of spread in front of her. "No, that's donkey" I said, knowing full well that it was butter but thinking that she might be hesitant since the Spanish word for donkey is burro and Italian is closely linked to Spanish, linguistically. So she lowered her head slightly and sniffed it, just to make sure it wasn't some sort of off-white donkey paté. Bless her. As we exited our hotel, guide book in one hand, coat in the other, we ambled along the promenade before crossing through Piazza San Marco and into the depths of the San Marco district. Fortunately, the guide book had a relatively useful map so we occasionally knew where we were headed. Most of the time, though, we hadn't a clue. After stumbling through an abundance of typically Venetian streets, we located the Rialto Bridge which links San Marco with San Polo and up until 1854 when the Accademia Bridge was built, the Rialto Bridge was the only means of crossing the Grand Canal on foot. Once we had crossed the bridge, we located the Rialto Markets which was basically a handful of stalls selling fresh fish, with half a dozen large fruit and veg stalls surrounding them. Still, we did get to see this. We wandered into a free Natural History Museum where we encountered all sorts of fossilised fish, some dinosaur teeth and a somethingorotherasaurus. Campo San Polo and the church of San Polo also beckoned, where we bought a multipass ticket allowing us free entry into a selection of other churches in Venice. However, the main attraction in San Polo is the Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari which is a Gothic church stemming from the 13th century. Very cultured and historical this trip isn't it. Also on our massive expedition through the narrow streets of Venice was lunch in a trendy coffee house with the BEST toasted sandwiches, and also a trip to the Scuola Grande di San Rocco which was set up in 1515 as a charitable institution for the sick. Fearing for my health, we didn't enter this establishment as we still had a lot of ground to cover - we hoped to see the Guggenheim museum before the end of the day, only the Guggenheim museum was at the bottom of Dorsoduro - the most southerly of the main Venetian districts. Along the way, we stumbled across a Burger King and a McDonald's (there had to be one somewhere) and we snapped the Santa Maria dei Carmini, San Barbara and the Squero di San Trovaso (a gondola workshop) before traipsing further down in Dorsoduro (which is named after the soft subsoil on which the area is built - literally "hard backbone"). The day was getting on a bit now and we'd got lost at least a dozen times on Dorsoduro before finally stumbling across a street name that was on the map and guiding ourselves to the Guggenheim museum where we were greeted with the news that it was closed on Tuesdays. Splendid. Knackered and a long hike from the hotel, we decided to amble back. Over the Accademia bridge, through Piazza San Marco, avoiding the orchestra playing to coffee-drinking tourists, and onwards through gazillions of wretched pigeons (Debs shrieked every time one flapped its wings) and taking evasive tactics when approached by any one of the numerous rose-sellers. We had a brief look at the Basilica San Marco but our bodies ached and we needed rest. We'd done a straight six hour walk, taking in the sights and saying "no grazzi" to all the gondola drivers who were touting for business, preying on young couples like us. The much needed rest turned into a two hour kip which put our schedule in perfect timing for another quick wander through the dim alleys in search of a half-decent restaurant. We found such a place, although the waiter didn't seem too keen on us, so just to spite him we ordered a one litre 'caraffa' of Pinot Grigio and stayed as long as we wanted. Day 3 - Wednesday 23 March Having got lost a thousand times the previous day, we almost knew our way around as a result. Consequently, we arrived at the Guggenheim museum on Dorsoduro in plenty of time and had a good wander around all the sculptures and paintings and pieces of art on display. To make things even better, I blagged my way in as a student and got half price! Splendid. After the Guggenheim, we didn't fancy the Accademia museum as it would have been much of the same and we both felt a bit arted out, so we had a bite to eat in another trendy cafe and headed for the Doge's Palace in Piazza San Marco. Debs, in the meantime, stood on a random dog at the bottom of a staircase and apologised several times whilst at the same time calling it stupid. The Doge's Palace is a very grand building adjoining the Basilica San Marco and is well worth a visit if you go. Make sure you hire out the audio guide though, as without it the trip is wasted. That lasted over two hours so we did a spot of tat shopping before having a look at Harry's Bar which was reputed to serve outstanding cocktails for famous American clientele. At a tenner a throw and with no lager available, I soon pooh-poohed that idea and we tootled off for some window-shopping and a nice, relaxing early evening. Dinner was an authentic Italian pizza where again I didn't know what I was ordering - ending up with pepperoni, salami sausage and anchovies. Hmmm. Another large, slow bottle of wine ensued before the call of the hotel was too much to resist. Day 4 - Thursday 24 March With an hour and a half water taxi ride ahead of a 1 o'clock flight check-in, there wasn't a lot of time in the morning to do anything else other than to have breakfast under the watchful eyes of the posh clientele, to pack our bags and to have a last wander around before lugging our cases to the taxi port. Annoyingly, the first stop on the water taxi was a taxi port RIGHT OUTSIDE our hotel. Ah well, it's good exercise. Fully cultured up, we headed back to Heathrow (the flight attendant also mistook a woman for a man - VERY amusing) and caught a bus back to Harrow, avoiding the school rush. Just before getting on the bus, however, there was still time for Debs to get poleaxed by a Japanese man pushing a suitcase trolley. Splendid. Footnotes of Amusing Value: women of male resemblance my unpacking skills "what's the Italian for spaghetti bolognese?" burro posing as a student CAN have its advantages Japanese tourists Leave a comment on this article |