VENICE IN WINTER
Undoubtedly, if you are heading for Magaluf or one of the Costas and you are young and awaiting all sorts of new conquests and sensations then this old adage holds water, but could not be further from the truth if one is travelling after a long year at home in the Italian countryside where winter is in the dead of its awfulness and you are heading for Venice by the sea!
I was really not looking forward to digging myself out of our comfortable daily routine sitting by roaring open fires at the farm to head out into the cold and watery world of Venice in Flood and London in Pollution but Venice proved as staggeringly beautiful as ever, if not more so.
KIWI SAYING GOODBYE
We had spent our Xmas at the farm and a dreary New Year as a gruesome twosome and then planned for a month in London after a few hedonistic days inVenice. I had somehow put Venice in the far distant North in my mind's eye but within four hours and two trains later we were swishing into a very smart railway station just yards from the Grand Canal.
Friends had gathered several days before Xmas in Venice in order to push Harry's Bar over the record of bilinis sold in a set number of days, and we were organised to join them in the Hotel Monarco to enhance on those consumed over the new year.
Coincidentally, Harry's Bar entrance abutted the main entrance to our hotel! Not such a coincidence in my opinion but this did avoid a long walk home after another wonderful meal and as the gondoliers had usually gone to bed long before we were ready to hit the sack.
We could tell by the rather muted greeting from the younger members of our party that New Year's Eve had been celebrated in wondrous fashion. Half smiles, half grimaces welcomed us as we alighted from our water taxi and the celebrations began all over again. Apparently Venice had put on the most amazing display of fireworks the night before and our doughty youngsters had taken a boat out into the middle of the fray. It all looked highly dangerous to me with so many boats manoeuvring into the best viewing positions but the resulting photographs were stunning.
We, by the way had been on the wagon for four months prior to this jaunt and were a little timid as to our limit before falling over drunk and disorderly. However, I hate bilinis and so does AC, so this proved not a problem. Why our hotel ran out of our favourite white wine is a fact that remains a mystery.
I had forgotten how utterly beautiful Venice was. How can one forget the magic of that city when it's so close to home? It is probably the most energising city in the world and coming from an olive farm surrounded by greenery from the opening of one's windows in the morning to a landscape of pink volcanoes, to suddenly opening one's shutters to see one's feet are literally sitting in water, is quite a shock.
We were met by a uniformed porter who grabbed our bags at the train station, gave me his arm to alight to the platform, trundled for a five minute walk to the landing stage on the canal and there after a five minute wait a beautiful polished Riva swept us down the Grand Canal to our hotel. It was all quite dramatic and quite beautiful and my camera was out and flashing in a truly crass touristy fashion even before we where sea born. The sudden beauty even brought a tear to my eye.
Everything was suddenly such a shock to the senses that it took all of our five days to come to terms with the change of scene. We are used to warm light, green trees, low farm houses, bridges across valleys, people milling around shops on terre firma, but from the moment we arrived at the landing stage all these everyday sensations and expectations were turned on their head. We were suddenly living our lives in history, beauty, art, and I felt I was inhabiting a painting where time had stood still.
My first shock as we sailed down the Grand Canal was to see new history being made. On a decrepit but rather beautiful palazzo was a child holding a burning flare, inches from the water but placed in the perfect space to catch the eye of everyone passing. Banksy had struck again. Making the perfect statement for Children in Crisis and probably leaving his legacy in euro terms far exceeding a small Canelleto!
Very moving. Quite shocking to be even more graffiti in a country ruined by graffiti but so Right and so Should be There.
BANKSY!
Our legs led us from firm to unfirm. From train to boat. From usual to unusual. From prosaic architecture to images from coffee table art books. Caneletto paintings for as far as the eye could see. Disbelief as to the beauty man had created. Crumbling beauty. Beauty which has only improved with age and usage.
WE LUNCHED ON THE SUN DRENCHED TERRACE IN JANUARY!
This boat ride had me streaming with tears even before we had begun our holiday or even seen our hotel. Not like me but a release from a land locked life for so long.
A PHOTOGRAPHER'S PARADISE.
Our motor-launch sluiced up to the terrace of our hotel and we were greeted like royalty. Quite right too when you realise how much they are charging you for the right to stay in their premises. You have to be close to royalty to be able to afford their bilinis, or even white wine!! I jest, but you get the gist.
We have been upgraded. Words that ring with a sort of glittery, high velocity that one does not hear too often. I had booked a Junior and they had given us a Senior suite and it was just under the Italian flag on the front of the hotel overlooking the Grand Canal. Bliss with an extra SS attached to it.
Interior design brought a few laughs from my minimalist husband and the pink marble, backlit bathroom almost brought an out and out lie on the floor histerical outburst, but overall the suite was to my taste, just perfect. Even the bowl of fruit and bottle of Prosecco was beautiful!!! A STILL LIFE WITH A CANELLETTO BACKGROUND.
Couldn't find the gin.
LIZZIE B WITH HER DELIGHTFUL CHILDREN. LIZZIE TOOK THOSE WONDERFUL FIREWORK PHOTOGRAPHS.
We were swept up into a wonderful family celebration of many grown ups and even more grown up children and ate and drank as one only can in Venice and everything we had intended to do and see had to be shoe-horned into what time we would meet for yet another ice-cold bottle of something wonderful, or another ten star dinner.
What I didn't realise was how much shopping was part of a Venice holiday. Every top name from Chanel to Hermes. Needless to say we didn't darken any serious doors but I did buy another hat at Borcelino. Well, it just has to be done in that city. What I really don't need is any more hats, just more heads.
We walked for miles and kilometres and rekindled old memories of St Marks Square, The Tetrarks, The Horses, The Gondolers, The Over Charging Cafes, The Awful Expense of putting one foot outside ones backdoors nowadays but we loved every minute of our trip and now knowing how quickly I can get there I am going back on a regular basis. It is a shot in the arm to live in that city for just two days. AND I still haven't been to Murano.
I am not complaining and looking back although I didn't get to see any of Venice's art treasures I came away with some images far more beautiful and life enhancing of Today than a lot of religious impressions of how things might have been in the past.
IAC, David McAlpine AND ROMILLY HOBBS/MCALPINE.
A FRIEND I PICKED UP BEGGING FOR HIS ARTIST
I loved our short trip to the land watery beauty and will be going back on my own just to see some art! And to buy some glass.
It's just like Cornwall really!
Jx
1 comment:
Lovely. Makes me want to go.
Post a Comment