Venice

When we first entered the city yesterday, by boat of course, Snowdrop, in her deep excitement, asked me, without expecting an answer -- why did I never know about this place before?!

It's one way of expressing this feeling of entering something that is beyond what you've seen or experienced. It challenges all that you know about cities, daily life, expressions of the grand and the impossible. Looking out this morning on the Grand Canal (you could say that it is the morning rush hour), I still get that feeling of how unreal and beautiful it all is.

We had our usual first night in Europe: sleep, interrupted in the middle of the night, when your body is just confused as to what it should be doing. But on balance, we rested well, which was an absolute necessity for both of us.

Ready for breakfast! A very late breakfast!

In nearly all my previous travels to Venice, all I did was walk. Yes, I saw the sights, I visited the churches, the museum, I climbed the Campanile. Once. To an art historian, the city is wealthy with stunning architecture and art. Virtually every building is an exhibit that belongs in a museum. But to me, the magic is in the entirety and the entirety is best experienced through endless walks, keeping your eye open for the unusual detail. 

But with a seven year old, my attitude toward a visit here changed. I remember bringing my girls here when they were just Snowdrop's age and a little older. We did walk, but we also paused and rode lots of vaporettos and sampled many gelatos. With Snowdrop, I wanted to do a tiny bit more. This is what you learn as a grandparent -- with your grandchild, you can always do just a little bit more. You know that opportunity is a rare bird, so you are sure to keep your binoculars on the ready!

I planned several activities, and one, organized by the incredibly creative talent of Martina at Macaco Kids Tours, takes place this afternoon. In the morning (what's left of it!), Snowdrop and I take a stroll to the Rialto Market, which just happens to be a few minutes up the Canal from us. It's the market of all markets, particularly with respect to fish of the Adriatic. She may never touch a fish on her plate again after seeing/smelling the delicious catch of the day here!

On the upside, she fell in love with the artichokes...

... and the strawberries. I happen also to love the baby artichokes here. So tasty you can (and should) eat them raw. You could never find these back home, so all you can do is drool. The strawberries, on the other hand, are totally transportable. I pick some up for our hotel room.

(A detour up the Rialto Bridge...)

Just before entering the hotel, we pause to admire the gondolas. And yes, it's the best moment to do this, because sooner or later, you know I would give in and the two of us would go on a gondola ride.

We are lucky. We picked randomly, but it happened that the gondolier was one for the ages. Sixth generation doing this. Knows his stuff. Loves his city. 

(a "road sign" telling you only gondolas are allowed on this canal)

I expected Snowdrop to be hyped, but rather, she was subdued. As if this quiet passage through the absolutely quiet backways is a different kind of magic.

(selfie)

There are currently 430 gondolas in Venice. The number goes down over the years because gondolas are expensive to maintain and they're no longer a need, but rather a service. For the romantics, as Ivan, our gondolier tells us.

("And Mozart lived there, and Goethe lived here....") 

(At the end, he of course calls his buddy to take that iconic gondola ride photo...)

And before you know it, it's lunch time. And  wants to go back to Al Campanile, and we have the same waitress, and Snowdrop orders the same thing for herself and for me, and this is one way you get yourself recognized and remembered!

Apart from us, there are only the regular men who stop work and come here for lunch. They are the real regulars (as they leave, I hear the "ciao, a domani" -- bye, see you tomorrow). Another regular? A dog. Snowdrop is apprehensive with strange dogs, but this one she likes!

From here, we walk, along the lovely Dorsoduoro ("Left Bank") loop, where everything seems always sane and not like one big shopping venue for cheap souvenirs.

(Hey, daughters, remember this produce boat? The vendors used to scowl at me for wanting to take a photo. That was then. We live in different times now.)

(Dont like to peel your own artichokes? They'll do it for you.)

And yes, I do step into one glass shop today. Venice/Murano is, of course, a glass making center, but the art is practiced by many small artisans, and a group sells out of a shop that has always seemed to me to be manageable and fun. A great place to pick up something for, say, your other granddaughters.

Colors of spring:

(Colors of peace)

From here, it's a short hike to the Accademia Bridge. Iconic view, right here!

Okay, let's go for the post card version:

We pick up a vaporetto to take us to Arsenale. Of course, first we have to find the vaporetto stop. Here, she's given up on me. "Are you sure you're not lost"

We get there! Arsenal: even if you think you know Venice (me!), you probably don't know about this district of it: it's at the very tip of the island group and it's really where Venice began. It's where the navy developed its ship building technologies 500 years ago. I have to admit that I've only touched on this area once. And I dont remember any of it. But it's where we meet Carlotta -- our Macaco guide for the next couple of hours.

She is magnificent. She has the history at her fingertips, and she has the skills to lead a scavenger and puzzle hunt that's perfect for any kid any age.

("Look at this painting by Canaletto, who painted all the details of a good photographer. And look at this same scene now. What's different?")

Snowdrop is at first tentative, but very quickly fully engaged. We play games, we discover small secrets of ancient monuments.

(And Gogs grabs a quick macchiato...)

And by the way, Carlotta did not know I'm the grandmother, which is kind of funny because I wear a knee brace and have tons of gray hair. I think it's because of the unexpected nature of this journey of grandmother and child. She learned quickly though that I stay behind when they race each other to the next point...

... and the one after.

(such a narrow street!)

One last puzzle to work out, at the "doorway to Venice."

I had signed Snowdrop up for another activity with Carlotta: mask decorating. In the greenhouse of a park. Who knew Venice had such corners?

(aprons)

Here, we learn about why there is a Carnavale celebration to begin with, and what's with all the masks around Venice, and finally, how to free your imagination and create something special. 

Both Snowdrop and I did this, even though my artsy skills are very... so-so.

We said good bye to magnificent Carlotta and walk over to a gelato shop in this very Italian part of Venice.

(for me)

(for her)

Truly, Arsenal does belong to the Venetians. And for this reason alone, it is magnificent.

And then se catch the vaporetto back to our Dorsoduoro hotel. For once, Snowdrop lands the perfect seat with the perfect views. (And yes, masks are required in all transportation, even with outdoor seating. They wont let you on the boat without it. And pretty much everyone over the age of ten wears N95's. This is why Italy's current surge is way less strong than France's, where mask reluctance is as high as it is in the US.)

On our walk back from the vaporetto stop, we pass a place that sells masks done by local artisans. If ever there was a perfect souvenir to take back home...

Home. We make the time to talk to Sparrow and mommy back home and I Zoom call Ed. How good it is to touch base in real time!

In the evening Snowdrop and I eat dinner at San Silvestro Ristorante. This was a find after a deep search back home. [It needs to be close to the hotel (the girl is tired by 7pm). It needs to be well liked (but of course). It needs to have Venetian foods. And it needs to have a reputation for being nice to families, just so I dont have to worry every time a piece of parmesan cheese doesn't make it from the spoon to the pasta dish, though God knows the kids have had plenty of practice in this particular skill back home.]

It is a wonderful dinner. I order pasta carbonara for the girl and she does eat it, even if she thinks it best to first eat the bacon then the rest. But, too, she sample my seafood fritto miso. She accepts the calamari, she accepts the shrimp, but she likes best the gently friend carrot strips. (We talk about vegetarians. Will she one day join their ranks? I don't think so... she loves bacon!)

On our way back to the room, we check out the rooftop bar. Same view as from our room only higher.

I pick up a couple of pieces of hard candy for her troubled airplane ears. And a glass of Veneto wine for myself.

And now I sit back and digest it all. And share it with you.

With love...