Sorry about the long break, but I’ve been a busy bunny. Anyway, here is a break from the current timeline to something more recent: our 3-day trip to Venice.
We are part of the problem. Of course we know this. It would be hypocritical of us to deny that and yet take part in what is assuredly a slow degradation of a proud and beautiful city. And this is why I left Venice with a tinge of sadness, but with a bittersweet longing for return.
First things first… why Venice and not Volterra? Well it was a significant birthday for Niamh, and she shopped around for the holiday and chose Venice as her destination. We had been there for about 7 hours in 2010, and watching live walks in it during the pandemic whetted our appetites, particularly those uploaded by the YouTube channel ‘I Love You Venice’.
We flew Ryanair, but didn’t opt for FastTrack. We had regretted that at first, as the queue snaked back all the way to its opening, but it actually moved quite nicely and we were only in it for maybe 15 minutes. There was a slight delay to takeoff, which was made-up during flight time, and when we landed… ahhh, the temperatures. It was 22-23, whereas Ireland hadn’t gotten higher than 14 and was still frequently in single digits. I was feeling the jacket I was wearing.
Anyway, we navigated our way past the first vaporetto ticket booth to the docks, where the booth was empty. We bought tickets for the vaporetto, went to dock 12, and then queued… and queued… and queued. A larger vaporetto was boarded by the waiting in the dock next to ours, and they too seemed to be going to Rialto, so I was beginning to get squirmy. The vaporetto filled and left. Then a few minutes later, a smaller version came to our dock and our queue started moving – but it took two further boats to enable us to get on board. All part of the process, I guess. In fairness, they weren’t long in coming. We boarded and had to wrestle our handheld luggage down the stairs. I stupidly chose a row of seats beside a life preserver, so I had nowhere to put my case, save between my legs for the hourlong ride.
Ten minutes in, I realised that at times we were banking a lot. It was due to the fact that there are actual lanes demarked in the bay and traffic rules to be obeyed. I guess it makes total sense, given the amount of water craft in the area. We breezed past a few islands, only making a stop at one, I think, before making it to the grand canal. We had our first wow moments there. The weather was perfect – the best weekend they’d had to date that year – and everywhere you turned was a Canaletto painting. It’s a remarkable-looking place. We hit our stop at Rialto bridge, and set about finding our hotel.
There were plenty of people about, but crowds were not the foremost thing on our mind. We were keen on finding our place, dumping our bags, finding a light bite and going on an explore. I have heard many people in videos say “don’t bother with Google maps”. Maybe this was down to their provider. We only had occasional signal issues, with our location darting about the map as a result, but by and large, we found Maps to be reasonably useable under Vodafone (not sponsored). We found our hotel (me noting a couple of gelaterie on the way) without much fuss in less then 10 minutes. We stayed in the Rosa Salva, a small boutique hotel not too far from St. Mark’s Square, on a quiet enough laneway. Note, that everything we mention by name will have a link to it in the description box below. This hotel is associated with a small chain of pasticcierie and gelaterie in Venice. There was no breakfast, but we had some free food and drink in the room fridge and a discount voucher for their stores – one of which was right next door!
Anyway, once we’d checked-in, we ran out and came across a really cute little cichetteria – Il Salotto di San Marco – and stopped for a drink and those little tasty Venetian morsels. I tried the famed creamed cod. Atfter my first bite, I had regretted all my life’s decisions up to the point they took me up to that very moment and caused me to put this substance in my mouth. It was terribly fishy, even to the point of it being ammonic. I took a second bite, and then it didn’t seem quite so bad – and the 3rd and 4th were actually quite pleasant. Give it a go – but push past that first mouthful! I had a fancy version of it again in Burano, but more on that later.
We had a wander and of course Venice blew our minds. Let me get one thing straight: Venice is an explorer’s dream. There’s always an excitement of reaching another junction, which involved a canal, and you just knew that all 360 degrees would be Instagrammable. Wander down narrow laneways, away from the main arteries, and if you’re lucky you’ll find a secluded square with a bar or restaurant with few tourists, and surprisingly low prices.
Then there are the main Corso on the way to Canereggio, the grand canal walks and, God help us all, the Rialto bridge. We had a gelato on the southeast side of the bridge (meh), and then, girding our loins, crossed the bridge. We hit the Rialto bridge once during this stay (well, twice – we had to cross back), and avoided it for the rest of the trip. It was teeming, and even then it wasn’t high season. I shudder to think what it’s like then. It’s really the only way to cross the grand canal, unless you hire a traghetto. Actually, if you do hire a traghetto, you also get the gondola experience for about €2 per person – albeit for a much shorter duration – it just ferries you across the canal.
We hit the grand canal walkways a bit, checking out the bridge in profile. Look, it’s gorgeous from that angle, and a must-see when you’re in Venice. In fact, I’d find it difficult to believe that any visitor, particularly a first-time one, never went near it. Then it was off to the piazza at the far end of the fish market for a sit-down drink. The market was being hosed down, and the drinks were fine – the smell of fish assailed our nostrils from time to time – not necessarily a good companion to Aperol!
We went back to the hotel to have a bit of a rest. On the way back, we stopped off at an off-the-beaten-track Carnavale mask maker. Niamh picked one out to add to our mask collection in Volterra. We had begun gung-ho, with plans to stay out ‘til dinner time – but the early start got the better of us, and we headed back up. The room was warm, and we actually didn’t ask the receptionist to reduce the heat until the next day. In fact, it was the best spell of weather Venice had so far this year – there was a mini heat-wave over much of Italy that weekend – so we were very lucky.
We had gotten a recommendation for a restaurant from a sommelier, and walked out to walk in that evening… more than a bit naively… but when we found it, it was booked out. We managed to book it for the next night, which was Niamh’s birthday – so it all worked out beautifully! Anyway, there were a couple of other places nearby… and this takes me to a little tips section on selecting restaurants in Venice (and in much of Italy, to be honest), if you’re a foodie… If you’re happy to chuck any old muck into you (no judgement, honest), then you can ignore them:
- Generally, don’t go for ‘does-it-all’ restaurants unless you have a family with you. If you want a chance at good pizza, go to a pizzeria, if you want good pasta and mains, go to a regular restaurant.
- A menu with 200 things on it. Sometimes they can surprise you, but quality is inevitably going to suffer here.
- A menu in the window translated into 5 languages
- A menu in the window with photos that are supposed to represent the food on the menu
- Restaurants which have people hired specifically to entice you into the restaurant. Yuck. I hate this.
Go for smaller, family-run places – if you can find a hand-written menu of the day, then you’ve probably hit the jackpot if you’re after local specialities.
All that said, we broke one of these rules and went to Il Calice, a pizzeria with a small menu with other plates. They had some really lovely looking pizza-by-the-slice squares, but we weren’t in the mood for pizza and so opted to go upstairs to the café-style restaurant and ordered from the menu instead. We had a fab salumi plate to share, with a delicious chunky piccalilli. So far, so good. Sadly, the pasta dishes weren’t great. Niamh had a pasta amatriciana and I had gnocchi in a white ragu. Niamh’s pasta was undercooked, but the sauce wasn’t bad. My gnocchi were definitely overcooked, and while the sauce was ok, it was very soupy. In fact, had it been served as a soup, I wouldn’t have minded.
After the meal, we wound our way to St. Mark’s square though the little local maze and sat opposite the Doge’s Palace and people watched. Of course we had to dodge the rose sellers, and the hawkers of those helicopter kids toys thingies.
When we’d had enough, we walked along the grand canal and, quite by accident, found Harry’s Bar – the birthplace of beef carpaccio and the Bellini cocktail. We had to do the touristy thing – it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience… yes, we paid €22 per teeny Bellini. Peaches were not yet in season, but it was fresh pulp nonetheless… however, to me, it tasked a little like cardboard box. They were serving food there that did smell quite yummy, though. We were fed enough, though, and instead headed back to the hotel as we knew we’d have a day of being on our feet tomorrow.
Part 2 here!
Our Man In Volterra 