I can’t believe Venice is real. I warn you now that this is a picture heavy post. That’s because when in Venice, every time you look skywards, or down a side street, or around a corner, you feel compelled to photograph it. Mainly to prove to yourself that it exists. And even then, you can hardly believe it.
Venice shuts down early at night and this was our favourite time to go wandering. I was ready for some sinister “Don’t Look Now” moments but it felt strangely safe… I imagine it could be more daunting in the misty winter months.
We stayed in Canareggio: the least touristy neighbourhood. It’s acceptable to drink Prosecco or Aperol spritzers at 11.00am. You can find both of these at the counters of cake shops as well as bars. We discovered the best meatballs in Venice and ate at the same place three nights in a row. They served up Venetian tapas with tiny glasses of wine, Martini or Prosecco and you eat and drink standing up at the bar, or in the street outside.
Venice is also beautiful in the daytime. Imagine faded grandeur. Now multiply it by ten, immerse it in a canal and there you have it.
We visited the painted houses on the Island of Burano, the Basilica on the island of Torcello and the island of San Michele, where Venice’s dead are buried.
Apparently Venice is a popular place to die, partly due to I’m sure, the beauty of the cemetery.
You may have noticed the distinct lack of flower chat in this post. Cut flowers in this city were unremarkable. Instead, I had to appreciate the Oleanders, the Jasmine, the succulents spilling out of window boxes and the ancient magnolia trees. Flower-related posts will resume next week.