Day 28 – It’s the wine

We catch happiness’ euphoria fleetingly, like seeing a faint star from the corner of our eye. It seems to arise from simple moments; stirring froth into a hot macchiato, enjoying sunlight’s warmth on our faces, and we’re too quick to ascribe these things to it’s cause. I think it’s Eckart Tolle who suggests we sit with such experiences, realising in time they have little to do with what’s outside of us. Why travel? Mmm. Perhaps there’s more in the outside world that triggers our remembrance of the joy within, or perhaps it’s the wine?

We took our bnb breaky in our room (coffee & croissants, orange juice), and set out in the direction of the Peggy Guggenheim gallery under a glorious morning sun. They’d salted all the bridges expecting frost – it was cold, to be sure, but not much frost.

In simple terms Venice is just canals and alleyways – that’s how it seems writing it down and looking at the hundred identical looking photos – but it’s so much more fun than that. A series of shadowed narrow corridors leads you suddenly into a sun-drenched piazza, a stonewalled lane is broken by unexpected greenery, a spruce tree towering up from behind the wall, or lush hedged bursting over it, changing architecture, brick and stone, cantilevered timber beams, massive solid timber doors with chunky iron furniture, then there’s the canals and bridges. The many bridge shapes, types, heights and directions reminds us of an Escher drawing, each new crossing somehow framing it’s own little Venice postcard picture. The water stinks a bit.

We find a little coffee place in Calle Tolleto full of workmen and locals. Di gets this cool ham, Brie and coleslaw sandwich pressed into de-crusted sandwich bread domes. They have a large (toy) stuffed rat on their coffee machine as a mascot and wonder at the meaning.

We make it to Peggy’s, but it’s closed. We’re not concerned as we’ve time to return and it’s in a nice little precinct even without the gallery.

From Peggy’s we head to St Marks square from the other direction this time. Again, as we approach, the shops increase in number and elegance until, just prior to entering the square, we’re walking past all the ‘price on enquiry’ shops; Jimmy Choo, Dior, St Laurent – and some you even have to inquire as to what their name is.

The basilica is outstanding, so much mosaic and tiles so tiny! (8000 square metres over eight centuries – mostly gold). Plenty of undulation in the tiled floor as well. We’re there just in time to see the afternoon light catch the gold in the massive works over the entry – it’s beautiful.

We find this cool little bar somewhere far enough away from St Marks that a couple of glasses is affordable but not so far that a couple of bottles is – the perfect distance (Pete to get per litre prices we’d probably have to walk off the island – no yellowtail either), and watch the passers by whilst listening to an Italian Reggae version of Oil’s ‘Bed are Burning’. This one bloke in tracky dacks and a sloppy-joe (recalling that it’s now about 1 degree), stops out the front checking his phone, obviously waiting for someone. We reckon he’s from the Mongolian Steppes or he’s freezing his nuts off – or both. He disappears and returns a half hour later, and disappears again.

Twenty minutes on, a young girl arrives, looking around and checking her phone. Surely she’s not looking for that guy from an hour ago? but the same feel-no-cold T-shirt wearing Mongolian Steppes look is uncanny, and we reckon we’re onto something. Yep – the bloke arrives, they’ve both been wandering the city, yurt-less, in little more than undies for over an hour. Which is all to say we’ve stayed in the bar too long and need to haul arse to dinner.

We’d booked a little place near our bnb which turned out to be very nice, then strolled over the little bridge to our piazza then off to bed. Side note – we walked into this restaurant last night as it was completely empty and we were famished. It was totally booked out, two sittings 7pm and 9pm sharp (it was 6:30pm). Wasn’t till we walked out that we saw all the Michelin stickers.