to Venice

Oh, Venice. What is it about this city that stirred within in me such strong feelings? As a young adult, I was obsessed with walking its narrow, dark, dank alleys. I came to Venice at every chance. In fact, I created opportunities, just to get to it for a few days. Most often in bad spring weather, sometimes seeing it when it was flooded and San Marco was accessible only by elevated walkways. I can easily say that I traveled to Venice more times than to any other city aside from Paris. A churning, youthful turmoil that pushed me across that long viaduct that leads to the city of 120 islands and nearly 180 canals.

It passed, this furious and repeated need to return. Venice is still up there for me, but I no longer treat it as if it were a passionate (and wholly one sided) affair. Still, it's a beautiful city that is especially attractive, I think, to fanciful people. Sometime this winter, I thought Snowdrop was ready for a visit. And so here we are, in Venice.

The flights to get here? Three. To Detroit, then to Paris, then to Venice. There is no nonstop flight from Madison to Venice! 

So, long trip and requiring continuous masking. And of course, the trans-Atlantic is an overnighter. Good luck on getting some sleep then! (Well, Snowdrop snuck in a few hours. I just watched her.) 

Snowdrop is a wonderfully rewarding travel companion: she gets excited by small things. I know many kids are good at this, though she is fantastically expressive about it! It's the most beautiful airport in the whole wide world! (This of the Detroit airport which, admittedly, is very nice.)

I took many pics of the little girl to send back to her parents and her aunt. I mean, they're the usual ones of girl by window. Here's the final one, to Venice.

We were so lucky! No delays (except for the final leg which was in fact delayed because of a sudden strike of air traffic controllers in France)! 

No missed connections! No bad weather! Not today, anyway. 

In Venice at last... I had booked a taxi to the hotel. Here we are, zipping along Venetian streets! Her joy in that boat knows no bounds!!

(Venice in hazy misty air)

Our hotel is beautiful. The Canova. It's new (well, the building is ancient, but the hotel is freshly opened). There is no chance that I would have been able to afford it in season and in normal times (meaning if it weren't for the pandemic which emptied out Venice for the first time in probably centuries; visitors are starting to pick up steam, though only just, since the cruise ships haven't yet ruined the "landscape" of this stunning city).

But what I did pay for (and handsomely, for me at least) are the views from our corner room.

I admit it -- I did it for myself, not for Snowdrop, who would have been just as happy staying in my usual Venetian choices -- small bed and breakfasts with views over a dark alley. It's to celebrate my years of Venice love. A retired person's cap to nearly a lifetime of delirium over this city. Who knows if and when I'll be back here. So for this trip, I chose this visual feast.

I hate to waste a single waking hour of this hazy but still gorgeous weather day (it'll start to deteriorate soon), but honestly, we are both tired. Excited, but tired. 

So a gelato is in order.

And then I do something that I think is rather insane. I purchase vaporetto tickets (that's the water bus that goes up and down the Grand Canal)... 

... and I have us get on for San Marco, THE square of all squares. We dont have time -- I have a dinner booking coming up. It's getting cool. The vaoretto is crowded so we have to stand. And still, I push us to do it. San Marco in early evening light can be exquisite. I want her to see it on the one day we are here with sunshine.

As with everything, she is intensely excited. And I do think it has an impact. But a few steps into this idea and I see that she is sagging. You know all thes bridges you have to climb? Even ones with the beautiful view of the Bridge of Sighs, which we have amply talked about back home?

Well, after a while they are just an endless bunch of steps. And when I can't find the right vaporetto stop to take us back up the Grand Canal, she slumps. 

But not for long. 

(looking at San Marco from the vaporetto)

Snowdrop almost falls asleep on the ride back and she wishes so much we could just be at the hotel and have food magically appear and that would be it. But no, this is not my plan.

Having been forewarned not to expect the usual plethora of open eateries, I chose all our dinners ahead of time, making sure that these places were open and available. For tonight, I decided the easy and familiar is the wisest choice. Al Campanile -- a pizzeria and restaurant I'd been coming to since my girls were very little. 

She comes in as if deflated. Exhausted. Those three hours of sleep on the plane mean nothing. The poor eating we've been doing thus far -- it catches up with her. At the restaurant, she longs to put her head on the Al Campanile table and fall asleep. I quickly tell them that plain spaghetti with parmesan will be terrific for her. I'll stay with their great pizza.

What a dinner that was! She loved my pizza, loved her spaghetti, loved Italy for putting on the map her two favorite foods on the planet (spaghetti with Parmesan and pizza) and doing them both so well. We have to come back here! - she tells me. We will. Of course we will.

(evening walk home)

(evening look at the Grand Canal)

From Venice, with love...