When you arrive to Venice by bus or car, there is a very small area which is drivable where the parking garages etc are, basically a big parking loop actually, and a big ticket office, information point, etc. And then you can either board of the vaporettos, the small ferries which run around venice (1 day pass: $28), take a water taxi (more like a water limousine, and you don't even want to know how expensive), or take the bridge into the city proper.
We opted for the bridge. It's one of those great bridges, one of the three or four which crosses the grand canal, newly opened and designed by starctual engineer Santiago Calatrava. Going up and over, you leave behind the world of cars, of reality, of the dismal postwar European cities, and cross over to a baroque Italian fantasy.
You get the butterflies in your stomach, like you are entering Disneyland and walking down Main Street USA, except you see the canals and the green domes and the gondolas and you think holy crap, I'm in Venice! Not Venice Beach, not The Venetian Hotel in Vegas, but the actual sinking city itself.
What Venice does best is to look fantastic. It's a period theme park made real. When I was backpacking Venice, I took more photos there than anywhere else. It's a city that looks like a model ready for a photoshoot. Most people don't even make it over the bridge before the camera comes out. You take pictures of everything, everywhere. It wasn't until this trip that I realized that Venice is a city where everywhere you look there is something interesting. I mean everywhere- you can close your eyes, turn to a random direction and look up at a random angle, and some fascinating detail or view will present itself.
The best thing to do in Venice is to simply explore it on foot and by canal. You can't get too lost because the city is so small and you always run into water, but its a delight to lose your way. Only the main streets are wide- most of the city is a network of narrow alleys and small streets, and by small streets, I mean streets so narrow, its only two people wide. With the heights of the buildings around you, the city is a labyrinth.
Venice is a city for tourists: during high season I imagine that on a given day, the tourists outnumber locals 3:1, and probably 5:1 at night. However, there are still people who live here, and not just those working in the tourism industry. The best moments for me is to come across parts of the city where the locals live, which is just as picturesque but in a different way. Saori and I came across some residential blocks where the street was entirely shaded by the fluttering laundry hung to dry.
We booked an apartment with AirBnB, by far the cheapest option for sleeping on the island for a group of five. Rafa told us we needed to look for Abraham, the Israeli, at the foot of one of the main bridges crossing the grand canal. Abraham was not difficult to spot. A huge Israeli, with a hisaidic beard and dressed for the high holy day on which the weekend fell, he stood out, even in the multinational mix of tourists. His associate, a quiet, nervous looking woman (girlfriend? business partner? cleaning lady? all three?) also met us there, and together we walked to the apartment. On the way, he chatted about this and that, pointed out the historic Jewish Ghetto and happily broke out his Spanish when he discovered the Mexicans.
The apartment was nice, comfortable. One bedroom and a living room with a cot and a big fold out bed. No random guests that the host failed to disclose. We drew straws for the bedroom. Saori and I lost, but Apo got the cot.
It was late afternoon by the time we struck out, trying to find our way to an out of the way palazzo Prada which was hosting an exhibition "Art or Sound?" We lost the Mexicans on the way, since they were tired and hungry. We were too, but too excited to see some of the Biannale sideshows.
The exhibition was interesting and the palazzo was lovely, and we hurried through in about an hour before it closed. From there, we slowly made our way to the giant square at the center of the city, St. Marks. Saori was really excited to see the palazzo since its one of the places, or really, an ensemble, of buildings and plazas, which we studied in school and which she remembered distinctly. We roamed the palazzo a bit before heading back to grab a super mediocre meal near the apartment.
We opted for the bridge. It's one of those great bridges, one of the three or four which crosses the grand canal, newly opened and designed by starctual engineer Santiago Calatrava. Going up and over, you leave behind the world of cars, of reality, of the dismal postwar European cities, and cross over to a baroque Italian fantasy.
You get the butterflies in your stomach, like you are entering Disneyland and walking down Main Street USA, except you see the canals and the green domes and the gondolas and you think holy crap, I'm in Venice! Not Venice Beach, not The Venetian Hotel in Vegas, but the actual sinking city itself.
What Venice does best is to look fantastic. It's a period theme park made real. When I was backpacking Venice, I took more photos there than anywhere else. It's a city that looks like a model ready for a photoshoot. Most people don't even make it over the bridge before the camera comes out. You take pictures of everything, everywhere. It wasn't until this trip that I realized that Venice is a city where everywhere you look there is something interesting. I mean everywhere- you can close your eyes, turn to a random direction and look up at a random angle, and some fascinating detail or view will present itself.
The best thing to do in Venice is to simply explore it on foot and by canal. You can't get too lost because the city is so small and you always run into water, but its a delight to lose your way. Only the main streets are wide- most of the city is a network of narrow alleys and small streets, and by small streets, I mean streets so narrow, its only two people wide. With the heights of the buildings around you, the city is a labyrinth.
Venice is a city for tourists: during high season I imagine that on a given day, the tourists outnumber locals 3:1, and probably 5:1 at night. However, there are still people who live here, and not just those working in the tourism industry. The best moments for me is to come across parts of the city where the locals live, which is just as picturesque but in a different way. Saori and I came across some residential blocks where the street was entirely shaded by the fluttering laundry hung to dry.
We booked an apartment with AirBnB, by far the cheapest option for sleeping on the island for a group of five. Rafa told us we needed to look for Abraham, the Israeli, at the foot of one of the main bridges crossing the grand canal. Abraham was not difficult to spot. A huge Israeli, with a hisaidic beard and dressed for the high holy day on which the weekend fell, he stood out, even in the multinational mix of tourists. His associate, a quiet, nervous looking woman (girlfriend? business partner? cleaning lady? all three?) also met us there, and together we walked to the apartment. On the way, he chatted about this and that, pointed out the historic Jewish Ghetto and happily broke out his Spanish when he discovered the Mexicans.
The apartment was nice, comfortable. One bedroom and a living room with a cot and a big fold out bed. No random guests that the host failed to disclose. We drew straws for the bedroom. Saori and I lost, but Apo got the cot.
It was late afternoon by the time we struck out, trying to find our way to an out of the way palazzo Prada which was hosting an exhibition "Art or Sound?" We lost the Mexicans on the way, since they were tired and hungry. We were too, but too excited to see some of the Biannale sideshows.
The exhibition was interesting and the palazzo was lovely, and we hurried through in about an hour before it closed. From there, we slowly made our way to the giant square at the center of the city, St. Marks. Saori was really excited to see the palazzo since its one of the places, or really, an ensemble, of buildings and plazas, which we studied in school and which she remembered distinctly. We roamed the palazzo a bit before heading back to grab a super mediocre meal near the apartment.
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