I am currently sitting in my apartment in Venice which my family and I have rented for a few days so that we can enjoy this wonderful city in Italy. Anyone who has been to Venice knows that it is a magical place to be, not just for the sight seeing or the food, but for the atmosphere. I feel as if I could journey out onto San Marcos Square and dance in the evening without a care in the world, or see my reflection in the Grand Canal whilst standing on the Rialto Bridge.
We came to Venice last year for a week during the summer. But, being a vintage British person, the sun scorched far too bright for our skins and bodies to allow. But now, it is about 17° C and the sun comes and goes between the blue skies with clouds dotted around the beauty. Anyhow, last time we came my sister got tonsillitis – which she subconsciously knew it before we even left – and said, “I don’t want to make any trouble by going to the hospital” and because she said this, it got worse and worse and worse which led her to being very ill, and having to go home.
So this is why we have come back, and this time we’re more powerful than ever. I literally feel like I’m writing a strange superhero novel or something…
When we arrived at Venice airport we had to get a coach into the main city; our suitcases were very heavy for our weak arms, at this point, and when we got into the city we had to carry our cases up over this gigantic bridge over the first river we got to. It was exhausting – not that I carried mine up, I gave up after a few steps. But down? That was just as torturous.
We got to the apartment at about half past 1, maybe 2 o’clock, in the afternoon. We stood in the main lobby for what felt like hours waiting for this Italian man to take us to our apartment. It was really only about ten minutes. When we got into the apartment it felt very disoriented; the three bedrooms and bathrooms are on the bottom, then up the stairs is our kitchen / living room / dining room section. That just didn’t seem right. It was kind of quirky at the same time, however.
After settling in for all of two minutes, we went back out again for some lunch. We walked along yet another canal, which led us to a recommended restaurant for a good pizza. So, I had a pizza. Plain pizza, cheese and tomato = perfection. I despise having any toppings on my pizza, but in reality I have the cheapest pizza so if anyone has a problem with spending less money they just have to tell me, really.
As I had very little sleep the night before – no more than 2 hours – we did pretty much nothing for the rest of the day; we went out for a short walk in the Spring evening, but otherwise the night was easy going and peaceful.
Yesterday, we walked a good few kilometres to a beautiful pizzeria where last year I’d had undoubtedly the best pizza in the world. Yes, I know, I had pizza two days in a row…but let me off. I’m on holiday and I just could not and would not waste the world’s best pizza. It deserves a medal. A trophy, even. It was just as good this time, as well! Perfectly cooked, perfectly presented, just utterly perfect.
My sister then wanted to go to the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, which I intensely did not want to do. Art Galleries NEVER have seats, and as much as I think art is beautiful, walking around staring at walls for hours isn’t my cup of tea, coffee or hot chocolate, really. So my mum and I went and visited this island off of Venice called San Giorgio Maggiore, which was gorgeously desolate and remote. No one really went there, despite there being a heavenly Catholic church on the island, which completed it. We went inside and it was really pretty, just how a church should be.
While we waited for my sister and dad to finish in the Guggenheim, we had a drink in the same place we had lunch. This was because we couldn’t find anywhere else nearby. Whoops. When my sister and dad came, the restaurant was being closed for the afternoon, but we were still sitting there. So, the waiter told them that it was closed. They tried to explain – “We are with them!” and pointed at us, but then he positively SCREECHED and SCREAMED right in my sister’s face.
She is still recovering.
That evening we went out for dinner to a restaurant called Da Luca e Fred; it was recommended online and said it had five star reviews. I had tortellini with ham and a cream sauce, it was gorgeous. They lived up to their five star standards. The only down side was that it seemed to be a student spot, where they were coming and going like they physically couldn’t sit and eat a meal, they had to take it outside and stand about. My sister and I shared a crepe with Nutella on it after we left the restaurant, it was as if heaven had come to earth and began a life in our family.
This is Venice. There are 177 canals. There are 260,060 people. There are 9.8 million tourists there, on average, every year. And my family and I are just 4 of those tourists.
I for one am glad to be a part of the beauty than Venice holds, and the glory that it has brought to the world.