The menace in Venice is mainly on the trains but the
best surprise on arrival is being nudged by the human
backwash as they press one onwards to finally exiting
Santa Lucia Station almost onto the main canal. Time to enter
negotiations on a water taxi for the four terror tourists, replete with heavy bags, desperate to get to San Marco leaving little or no
bargaining stakes for monetary movement. The inviolate fee is E60 for a 20minute commute in a mahogany veneered launch with
the aptly named Fabio representing the archetypical Italio lothario incarnate. The evening ride is too short to suck in the ambient
flavours as the sheer weight of what loomed at either side seemed to flash by so quickly.
Arrival at the San Marco jetty side means a
short trip to the 2 bedroom apartment and
the crusty bits from the long train trip
from Rome soon vanished.
Instructions for rubbish to be left
outside in the alley for collection
and a map to reconnoitre the
Venezia maze are the last
contact with the letting agent.
The apartment at Castello
between San Zaccharia and
San Marco is alongside the
small Campo Bandiera Moro a
family zone with a good bread
shop which amazingly still had
fresh supplies at 5pm.
The first expedition is the quest
for nourishment and high on the
list is a recommendation in Lets
Go Italy whose Rome restaurant
reviews proved up to the task.
Venice open up its twisted tail
as a trip through enumerable
porticos and step-up bridges
lead to the tucked away Al
Vecio Canton Trattoria. A two
storied restaurant with tight
configuration, abysmal service,
ordinary pizza, but fantastic
grilled variation of
pepperoni/potato/aubergine and greens plus a passable vino Rossi. All was fine until our financial Rottweiler examined the bill to find
both coperto and service charge at 12% plus an extra litre of vino on the tab. Do not play with this lady and remonstrations, gnashing
of teeth and a recalculation of the bill necessitated a hasty withdrawal under vendor vitriol. The tactics of not listing every bill item,
not putting all charges on window menus and indulging in the artful task of wallet massaging is beware the Venetian vendetta.
Perhaps the sheer weight of tourists abrogates the need to give service but even a smile tax would be a better result
The morning calls for a provedoring trip to the Rialto Markets for the self catering fare behind the ideals of apartment living as no
cosseted all-in Hotel cocoon here. A veritable feast of freshly cleaned stargazer , scampi, swordfish at the mongers ,the meat hall for
horsemeat, corned fatted polla (chicken), snails, whole duck and rabbit. The vegetables were large and juicy looking while the
artichokes were being whittled and the off cut matter was strewn about the market. Throw the crowds of wedgie well built European
women tourists resplendent in knock off Prada into the mix it seems a paradox
in a kaleidoscope of confusion. Siesta closes down the commercial world
and unless ruminating the ruins one must retire to restaurants or walk the
alleyways and islands.
Wander to the Arsenale to view the naval area which was once the largest
in the known world during the period Venice controlled the Adriatic and
parts of the Mediterranean. Meandering down the Vale de Giardini Pubblici
viewing glimpses of broken down public buildings, allotments of disrepair
onto the Via Giuseppe Garibaldi and back to the San Marco boardwalk for a
circuit of San Zaccaria prior to the cuchina rustica bubbling at the
apartmenti.
The touts de Senegal lurk the piazzas with knockoff heaven competing for
space with the Italian Schools excursion week which only increases the
noise as the expressions of disinterest rise above the normal clangour. No
visit is secure without the night’s excursion into the piazza San Marco for
the duelling orchestras but a somewhat lonely sight greeted as the tide had
covered fifty percent of the piazza successfully isolating the groups.
The cognoscenti sat in fumata infused clouds sucking expensive drinks
whilst the proletariat stood licking gelato at the perimeters. The final scene
plays out at midnight but there is still a late night red liveried gelato provider
plying his trade as the tourists retreat.
Enquiry at the Tourist Information Office for boat trips to the glassblowers
raised expectations as the quality of information and delivery was a rare
Italian first in public relations. The wait at the San Marco jetty for a
vaperetto to Murano looking down at green
chunky water seemed an invitation to
seasickness.
A supersize ocean cruise boat ugly, intrusive and intruded somewhat incongruous amongst the
gondolas and vaparettos as it slurped through the main channel and dwarfed all the history
surrounding. However the squat vaperetto sailed the sea like going through granita and it
seemed we should sing the song a slow boat to Murano or is that some other destination?
The views of Venice and the surrounds made a pleasant boat trip only intersected by the
bumps and grinds of manoeuvring into commuter wharves. Murano is a microcosm of Venice
with a series of smaller islands joined by bridges but with a lot cleaner lines, wider
promenades and Osteria tables at the edges.
The place beckons to be picnicked and a search for the ubiquitous alimentary and good local
fare is a part of tourist folklore. Directions abound and eventually the hidden piccolo Italian
“Kmart” provides a wonderful array of good produce. Service is via a ticket system a la the
western world but with Italian overtones of snail pace at 5 customers per 30 minutes. The
inveterate oxygen thief in the fromagerie is on a form of valium that may be part of the plot to
force one into the pre-packaged, barcode USA style Deli section. Hey why worry anyway as
there is only one cash register open but there again there is only so much time to take a
holiday. Settling for a bit of rare carne, rocket ,provolone, crusty bread and a litre or so of Rossi
plus travelling with ones own accoutrements makes an easy snack for the seaweed glitterati.
Something about seaside a la carte with the smell of waikame Murano drifting in the breeze,
reposed in an idyllic environment makes a cheap and cheerful day. Perhaps there is one
problem on a Venetian holiday and that is the propensity to buy extra vino to sit and ponder causing the onset of a sangiovese
siesta. A wander past the omnipresent glass shops may seem like sensory overkill but an allure entices to view the spectre of such
fine artistry. Lateral thoughts now take over as gifts for home breeds a reverse colonial trade in trinkets and glass. Intricate insects
and multicoloured animals are small enough to pack away to take some memory of this pleasant environment from the Venice mass
tourism.
An evening stroll along the San Marco board walk is equivalent to the Hajj in Mecca as the passegiata is a Tour group paradise ,a
never ending shuffle of Slavic, Asian and German flag holding leaders pushing their minions forward. This is the ugly side of the
experience and the only saviour is the dissipation of all crowds by 10.00pm allowing a leisurely walk unencumbered as the waves lap
the bobbing gondolas. Any walk confronts the common problem of where to go for a toilet stop as bladder insecurities at E.50 a time
is a quantifiable investment in Venice which only has 4 public toilets. Perhaps the pinnacle of clean and accessible toilets at
MacDonald’s provides some reason not to desecrate the bowels of history.
Sunday in Venice is Italian day necessitating prior bookings at most major sites as well dressed families take parents and piccolos
out to Mass and chow. A Secret Tour of the Doges Palace requires a booking at least the day before and also includes access to the
main palace area proving the better value. The tour is all about the incarcerations, censorship and manoeuvring behind the Republic
of ancient Venice. The Monty Pythonesque guide “Michelle” Palin added rich pickings with her stentorian counter inflective delivery
directly in keeping with the empty semi derelict building.
“You will not carry bag”.
“You will not take photo”.
“You will not fell in stairway“.
all delivered without drawing a single facial change. The pivotal running theme throughout the maniac-logue is the imprisonment and
escape of Giacomo Casanova and culminates in the crossing of the bridge of sighs (Ponte Dei Sospiri) the last view for the
condemned on the way to the gallows.
Venice is all about jumping on boats to see the buildings, trip through the myriad canals to the islands then alighting to walk the
alleyways and bridges. A trip from Arsenale to Academia is a short but expensive commute highlighted by loud talking American
students professing to never paying or being caught freeloading.
Dorosduro is across from Academia and has the Betty Guggenheim Palacio Museum as the major drawcard but the sunny streets
bereft of tourists are a cheaper option. The streets in contrast to Castello are more amiable to strolling presenting bargain shopping
options and pleasant exposed cafes. Galleries, gelaterias, pizzerias, Italio bars and perky shops proved as fulfilling as another
intellectual overload and the stroll back over the Ponte Academia past St Stephanos and into the Ponte Rialto is another personal
milestone. However reality strikes at the Bierra Trattorie which touted no coperto or service charge and lived up to its name in a
subtle ploy to drag the unwary in by subtle means. In Venice you pay if you want authentic eats so take a ticket to play in the second
team.
It is a quick four days and the exit is via the trusty vaperetto along the Mestre industrial area to the stazione in the morning. This is a
final circumnavigation of the misty islands as we pay back the usury of overpriced tourism by harking the American students advice
not to buy tickets. The land based areas of Venezia are the dreary goodbye but the handy Bombay Sapphire smooths out the E Star
bumps as new interaction begins on the tracks to Milano.
Roscoe King - mob: 0439761815 - a/h: 07-54446000 - email: Roscoetfdq@gmail.com - PO Box 505 4557
Chew Ate Eat - for your party menus
Food Torque - try the recipes from our food engineers
Travel Lobotomies - sort your flash packing and triptological travels
Looters Locker - buy from the dilly bag of collectivity
The wicked, weird and wonderful - as the cool-chaser
picks up the new and traks the webs developmental sites
Crash Pads - Check your baggage into flashpackers’
heaven - villas to cabins at mates rates.
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