For those of you who have been there, you know that Venice is hard to describe. The alleyways are a labyrinth, ending in dead ends, boat docks, and secluded plazas, and you're guaranteed to have to turn around and re-trace your steps at least once. In many places they're barely wide enough for two single-file lines of tourists, and some are so narrow that you get the feeling that neighbors can just lean out across the gap to borrow a cup of sugar, rather than walk next door.
I loved some aspects of the city (the architecture, the romance, the views from the bridges, and the way the buildings are gracefully aging), and disliked others (the crowds, the lack of public sitting space, paying 1.50 to use a bathroom). But overall, it's a city with no equal, and it's now one of my top three must-see cities (tied with Edinburgh for first, with Prague sitting at third and Amsterdam bumped to fourth).
When I first saw the city from the plane and then the water, I knew it was like no other I had ever seen:
One of the aforementioned narrow alleyways. It actually reminded me a lot of Stonetown on Zanzibar, and I wish we'd had a local guide in Venice like I did then.
How many pictures of canals did I take? I lost count.
I flew in on Friday and met with Lauren and Ramin, who had driven down from Germany. We agreed to meet in San Marco Piazza, which, as those of you have been there know, is HUGE and CROWDED. We probably should've picked a more distinct spot. But, as Lauren says, we were taught by the same people to find a non-crowded spot and then stand still. So after I did a preliminary sweep and didn't see them anywhere, I went right to the middle and was in the process of looking for a free WiFi connection when they walked right up! I still think it was probably more luck than anything else that we actually found each other, but it worked out for the best.
This is what I get for being adventurous and ordering something from the menu that I didn't fully understand...
Chopped up octopus. Yuck. I ate about half of it and then couldn't handle the fishiness anymore.
One of the thoughts we all had while exploring was, "how do people MOVE?" Can you imagine trying to load everything onto a boat, couches and desks and wardrobes? My guess is that the furniture often stays with the apartment.
The wealth of former Venice is obvious everywhere you turn. The architecture alone reveals how much extra money people had for frivolous spending.
Per Rick Steves' recommendation, we took the water bus (Vaporetto) down the Grand Canal. It was a packed ride, but we somehow made it to the edge so we could see, and I spent the entire time trying to take pictures of the incredible surroundings without letting my phone fall in the water.
I can never get videos to load correctly directly to blogger, so here's the link to my vaporetto ride video.
I took this panorama from a moving boat. Pretty proud of how it turned out.
The Doge's Palace (pinkish building on the right) and Campanile (tower) from the Grand Canal
Another example of their incredible wealth. I have no idea which church this even is... I didn't look any of them up, because there was always another incredible one around the corner.
Classic Venetian architecture. The Venetian in Vegas did at least get that right.
I also like that you can see how weathered the buildings are by the salt water.
We had dinner right next to a canal, and discovered the Aperol Spritz. (photo credit to Lauren Rad)
Day two, our first full day, started off with a well-balanced breakfast: Cannoli! (pro-tip: one is a Cannolo, two or more are Cannoli)
We stopped along the way to take some pictures with canals...
The goal was to get to St Mark's Basilica and Doge's Palace early to beat the crowds, but we got decently sidetracked:
Buying tiramisu and meringues...
Taking pictures of pretty courtyards...
and purchasing souvenirs, like my new fave panama hat and a print for Lauren and Ramin to add to their collection.
There's a gorgeous church in just about every plaza, so I photographed them as we went along, taking selfies with each one. It's kind of crazy how you can become de-sensitized to even this sort of extravagance when it's everywhere you turn.
Eventually we did make it back to Piazza San Marco.
Didn't get to climb the Campanile, unfortunately. We didn't realize that you have to book it in advance!
The Basilica di San Marco is a sort of eclectic mix of Byzantine and Venetian architecture, and from the outside it honestly doesn't look all that impressive, compared to other cathedrals (Milan and Cologne, for example). HOWEVER, it is i.n.c.r.e.d.i.b.l.e. on the inside. How have I never heard talk of it before? The entire ceiling is plated in GOLD!!!!! Unfortunately, pictures are not allowed inside, so you'll just have to go for yourself. Do it. It's worth it.
The outside has its fair share of gold mosaics too.
I did sneak out my phone for a picture of this, the oh-so-humble altar screen made of gold, silver, and 1,927 precious gemstones (according to Wikipedia).
It details the evangelists, disciples, and arch angels. I'm sorry for the blurry picture, but I was terrified of getting reprimanded and snapped this rather quickly.
Funny story: there was an info video where you could pay a euro or two and listen to several clips about the Pala d'Oro on little handsets. Ramin wanted to learn about it and fished out some coins to drop into the empty bin in the completely s i l e n t cathedral. After the first coin fairly echoed and I saw how many coins he had left to go, I quickly fished a two-euro piece out of my wallet and thrust it in his hand.
This is in the foyer, where picture-taking was still allowed. Now imagine the entire basilica covered in mosaics like this, with the sunlight streaming through the upper windows.
One thing we really didn't like about Venice was the bathroom situation!! You pay 1.50 euros every time, and sometimes it can take up to ten minutes of winding through alleyways, desperately following the WC signs, to even find one. We had a couple of close shaves.
It's hard to tell, but that tower is leaning. That's what happens when a city is built on marshland and pilings. (This picture snapped during one of our desperate searches for a bathroom.)
After successfully locating the WC and making a mental note of how we found it for later, we started on the next search: a place to eat. According to Rick Steves, picnics have been outlawed in the city because they cause litter, loitering, and seagull infestations. The downside of this is there are very few places to grab a quick bite. And when you're also looking for somewhere slightly shady and not ridiculously priced, you're in for a rough time. Tempers were wearing thin by the time we found a place at about 2 PM.
Ramin looks better in my hat than I do...
The Piazza where we sat for lunch
Yet another of the incredible churches I mentioned earlier.
Once we re-fueled we headed back towards Piazza San Marco to explore the Doge's Palace.
To give you a sense of the atmosphere there, I took a video. Please ignore how annoying my voice is. I'm sorry.
Did you know that the Campanile actually collapsed in 1903? Yup, apparently there was some shoddy repair work done in the 17th Century, and one night it just came tumbling right down. They've since re-built and repaired it to better standards.
What I was most excited for, because it was basically the only thing about Venice that I had researched, was the Doge's Palace! For those of you who don't know, the Doge was the chief magistrate of Venice, elected to serve for life by the city's aristocracy. The Doge was an interesting case, because, although his position was elected and not hereditary, he still spoke with religious power, and divined his ruling power from God.
His palace is also one of the finest examples of Venetian architecture.
And ridiculous ceilings. We'll get to the ceilings.
The palace was actually less of a residence, and more of a government building. It's where the courts and senate chambers were housed.
The inner courtyard.
Still the inner courtyard...
Usually when visiting these sorts of places, I like to pretend I'm a princess wandering my palace grounds. This time, I pretended I was the Doge's wife, the one who secretly held all the power. In my version of history, all of these men thought they were governing, but they were actually being manipulated like puppets by their wives, who communicated secretly to work the government towards their own agendas.
And here begin the ceilings:
Entryway
Hall of the four doors. I presume because there are four doors leading to it.
Antechamber to the Hall of the Full Council. You know, so people recognize just how powerful and rich that council is.
This is the CEILING.
Entrance to the Hall of the Full Council.
From the info board, if you're interested (if not, skip ahead!):
"The Pien Collegto (Full Council), which met in this room, was comprised of two separate and independent organs of power, the Savi and the Signoria." The Savi had three parts, concerned with foreign policy, the empire in mainland Italy, and maritime affairs. The Full Council was responsible for "promoting political and legislative activity" by working with the senate, ambassadors, city governors, foreign delegates, and the Doge.
The Senate Chamber, known as the Sala dei Pregadi ("hall of prayers") in Italian, because here the Doge "prayed" the members of the Senate to take part in meetings. Again, notice the confluence of religion and government. The men were elected, but their power still originated from God. It really drives home how religious institutions were institutions of power and governance.
Wide view of the Senate Chamber
To give you a sense of the scale of the place, here's a clip.
The Chamber of the Council of Ten, which was originally set up to catch conspirators and ended up becoming permanent. Meant for "punishing the wicked and freeing the innocent".
Apparently many artists contributed to these paintings, but they overlap and so are difficult to interpret or separate.
And finally, the most impressive room of them all, which puts all others to shame:
The Chamber of the Great Council
At 53 meters (174 feet) long and 25 meters (82 feet) wide, this is apparently one of the largest rooms in Europe. Although I do wonder how they define a "room".
This room was so big that it could fit all 1,200-2,000 members of the Great Council, which was comprised of all male members of patrician Venetian families. The Great Council began the election for a new Doge and was able to call upon any body of the Senate that it felt had over-stepped its powers.
Something that struck me while visiting the Doge's Palace is how successful and stable their republic was for over 1,000 years. Venice thrived under this political system, and really, it allowed its citizens just about as much of an active voice in their governance as our democracies do today (with the huge exception that women are allowed to participate in our society). We sometimes like to imagine that we live in the age of progress, modern technology, and fair governance, but honestly, other people have done it before. While touring this incredible testament to the wealth and knowledge of the past, I got a strong sense of our own insignificance.
Also, they were successful for centuries. Could that be because Venice was smaller than our modern countries? Are our governments just too big?
The tour of the Doge's Palace also takes you through the prisons.
View from the Bridge of Sighs. The bridge was actually given this romantic name some time after its construction, and theories for its origin vary. The official one, told to us in the museum, is that prisoners would sigh as they crossed from the interrogation rooms to the New Prison, catching their last glimpse of the outside world.
The prisons were very extensive and, of course, depressing. The only good thing to be said of them is that at least they weren't sweltering hot in the summer, but then you have to wonder how cold they were in the winter.
We had a little fun shrieking through the thunderstorm like everyone else, but were sorely unprepared. Luckily we managed to find the H&M (which we had been looking for practically all day because Ramin's shirt was far too warm for the weather) right as the sky opened up, so we took refuge inside for about an hour.
At this point we were all exhausted and I just barely got one last bridge picture in. I think you can read the exhaustion in our faces, but maybe that's just because I remember the blisters on my toes.
A power-walk through the (now wet) alleyways back to the bus.
Oh, past another beautiful church, nbd.
And a canal picture for the road.
One of my favorite pictures is actually one on the bus, with Ramin pretending to sleep, Lauren refusing to show her face, and the whole thing out of focus because I was too tired to hold the phone straight. But I think I'll save the subjects of the picture some embarrassment and leave it for your imagination.
Afterthought: it's amazing how far you can walk just by winding in and out of little, twisted streets. In one day we clocked 16,000 steps, or about 7.5 miles!
On day 3 we all decided that we didn't feel like battling heat and crowds again, and that we'd rather explore our little AirBnB town of Mirano.
The public gardens. It was very confusing to me to be in a place that was both very warm and very green. In my head, those two things are usually mutually exclusive.
The town square.
We caught some church bells announcing the conclusion of Mother's Day mass. The video doesn't capture it, but they were loud enough to reverberate in your chest.
Wandering around Mirano took a grand total of 1.5 hours, and that was with some serious dawdling and picture-taking.
This chocolate shop, owned by a friend of our AirBnB host, was one of the few places open.
I was prepared for things to be closed in a small town on Sunday, but I wasn't prepared for just how DEAD the town would feel. In Germany, when all the shops are closed, everyone floods outside and enjoys the nice weather (if there is any). So there's a relaxed atmosphere, but still lively. But, whether it's because it was Mother's Day or because Italians enjoy their Sundays generally at home, Mirano completely closed up at siesta time. There were cafes open for coffee and pastries until about lunch, and then ... nothing.
It was peaceful, but also problematic, considering we had little food at home and there wasn't a single restaurant with real food.
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