From the Other Window

Saturday, May 21, 2005

And so it goes.

[tags: _travel]
A single friend of ours asked whether it was worth going to Venice. My answer, sadly, was "not if you're single". It's true; the conspiracy against singletons is at its peak here in "romantic" venice, where every bridge is made for sighing, the very streets seeming to hold hands across the water. Venice was also made for mystery, and darkness; McEwan's The Comfort of Strangers takes place in an ur-Venice where every shadow is suspect; the Death story of Endless Nights also invokes its strange history. And then, of course, there are the masks.

Bridge of Sighs

Anyway, we were pretty romantic after a half bottle of wine and some sandwiches, Van and I; and on the way back from the San Marco we took our sweet time, sampling the shops and side streets. From San Marco in its eponymous district, to our Canareggio hotel, was merely a half hour's determined walk; we made it in two. Resting in your hotel, the day greying with cloud: our aching legs thanked us profoundly. It was past 7 when we finally got up to have another go at the city.

A sheet of rain greeted us at the entrance; showers came and went and so did we. The weather rewarded us with rainbows (it was almost British in unpredictability) and fantastic shots of the sinking sun against the canals.

Sunset from Ponte Tre Archi

We hopped onto a vaporetto heading towards the train station, and changed over to one going to San Marco in a vain attempt to catch the sunset there. Maybe it was the fatigue setting in; we argued, Van and I, over the smallest thing; then just as quickly made up again on the Academia bridge. We decided to abandon the tourist track and blew our last few euros (literally) on a seafood dinner in Dorsoduro. The waiter was friendly and not suffocating, the food was quite tasty (if not anywhere near Bray standards - yes, I've been totally spoiled) and wine helped against the suddenly-chilly night.

After dinner, we roamed round the opposite bank from San Marco and took pictures of the imposing Cathedral there. We then crossed over to the Square again, where people gathered near Florian's cafe and its rival Danieli to listen to the musicians. The crowds had mostly lessened, but the chilly night air didn't dampen our spirits. We finally came home at 1:30am, fully worn out but utterly satisfied.

San Marco at Night

There's really nothing more to the story. We took a bus in the early hours of Sunday back to Treviso; had breakfast and a nondescript flight to Stansted, and returned to the real world. I don't think I'll be back in Venice anytime soon. Still, in some ways, we never really went; our Venice trip was a step outside of time, magical but all too brief. Just like the city itself.

Labels: travel, venice