In which we enter the alternate reality that is Venice

I have to confess that I was somewhat ambivalent about our impending trip to Venice.  Even before we moved to Switzerland I had proposed making a short trip there this fall.  My reasoning was something like this: we want to travel all over Europe during our time here, and Venice has to be at the top of any lists of must-see places.  Plus, I thought that coming in the off season we might avoid the huge crowds that one always hears about.  So, we settled upon this weekend and I booked a room in a pensione for two nights.

But I wasn’t at all sure that I would like Venice that much.  My imagination was filled with pictures of dank canals filled with tacky, tourist-laden gondolas.  Plus I’m not all that in love with Baroque opulence.  For example, The Spouse and I are more Romanesque types when it comes to church architecture; we love its simple, clean lines and quiet spaces.  Even Gothic is a bit too much for us.  Being a good sport, The Spouse didn’t say anything, but I suspected he felt the same way.  Nonetheless, we were here to see Europe, so we would go.

Because it is only five and a half hours away by car and because the train costs 400 Swiss Francs, we decided to drive.  We set off early on Saturday morning, hoping for the best despite a forecast of rain for much of the next three days.  We took the motorway south, speeding past lakes and peaks that we had explored in previous drives.  It seemed a good sign that there was little traffic heading into the Gotthard Tunnel.  In the summer, traffic often backs up five hours and more waiting to get through this 17 kilometer, two-lane tunnel far beneath the Gotthard Pass, but we sped right through.

On the other side, we definitely felt that we had entered Italy, even though it was still the Italian-speaking part of Switzerland.  Road signs were now in Italian, and somehow the houses seemed a little less primly tidy than on the Swiss-German side.  But the mountains were still spectacular, and we passed beautiful lakes that we agreed we would have to return to another time.   Speeding south, we noted the architecture gradually morphing from high-peaked Alpine chalet roofs to flatter, red-tiled roofs of the Mediterranean region.

Immediately after crossing the national border, speed limits also seemed to have been abandoned.  I’ll have to go into this another time, but speeds are strictly limited in Switzerland, so at first we were a bit rattled as powerful cars zoomed past us in the left lane while large trucks had the unnerving habit of veering into our middle lane without warning.    

Eventually, we reached the heavily industrial environs of Venice and crossed a long causeway.  At the end, we turned into an enormous parking garage where we planned to leave our car for the weekend.  It stood on the edge of a manmade basin where huge ocean liners docked in between Mediterranean cruises.  It made sense to put these modern amenities on the periphery of the historic city, but it meant that by mid-afternoon we still had not seen anything of the “real” Venice. 

After wandering around the garage trying to find an exit, we finally located not only the uscita, but a kiosk to buy tickets for the vaporetti, water buses that are the city's principal means of transportation.  We bought a 48-hour pass, an excellent decision because it allowed us to step on and off boats whenever we liked.  Soon one arrived heading up the Grand Canal toward the Rialto, where we would stop to seek out our pensione.  We clambered aboard and, primed by our guidebook, grabbed a couple of seats at the front of the boat, balancing our small weekend bags on our laps.

At first the view was not propitious – a bus station on the right, then a modern concrete railroad station, built in 1954, on our left and opposite it a church that was completely enshrouded in an advertisement – much of the city seems to be undergoing preservation.

Soon, though, as we moved further along the Grand Canal, the city began to weave its spell.  The cloudy day only served to make the view more atmospheric (though I’m afraid it didn’t make for the best photography.)  We watched in wonder as we passed palace after palace (though we later learned that only the Doge’s palace was allowed to be called “palazzo” – everything else was merely a “casa” or home).  By the time our boat passed under the famous Rialto Bridge we were hooked.

There is something inherently absurd about a city surrounded by water.  It violates all one’s expectations of what is possible and appropriate.  Our fascination was sparked when we began to learn about the city’s history.  (What can I say, we are historians; when we travel our pleasure is deepened by putting places in their historical contexts.) We learned that Venice was founded after the fall of Rome, when farmers seeking to escape raiding “barbarians” moved onto marshy, sedimentary islands off the coast.  They built their homes on pilings driven deep into the clay and used the streams in between as their streets.

Buildings on the islands are separated by tiny maze-like alleys, often barely wide enough for two people to pass.  Because of the spongy soil, even the grandest buildings and churches are made of brick, sometimes faced with stone and marble, and nothing is built too high.

By the ninth century (ca. 800 A.D.) Venetians had developed important trade routes between Byzantine and Islamic lands to the East and consumers to the West.  Their status as a wealthy and powerful commercial empire was cemented and symbolized in 828 when Venetian merchants managed to smuggle the bones of gospel writer St. Mark from Alexandria, then under Islamic control.   To house them they constructed an impressive basilica, and to dramatize their unique status they ignored the emerging style then emerging to the west and emulated a church in Constantinople.  Over the years they added layers upon layers of gilt-encrusted mosaics in the Greek orthodox style.

And so, we debarked at the Rialto vaporetto stop and wound our way through a maze of alleys toward the Pensione Guerrato, a small place near the fish market recommended in our guidebook.  (Thank you, Rick Steves!)  By this time it was late afternoon and the market had already closed, leaving behind a faint scent of fish.  Though the entrance down a narrow alley was unpropitious the pensione turned out to be the perfect place, comfortable, conveniently located and for the most part frequented by Italian tourists.

In fact, we were realizing that our decision to visit in the off-season had really paid off, in that most of our fellow travelers seemed to be Italians also seeking to avoid the rush.  Of course, Venice is now a city that exists primarily to be visited.  But it is nice to be able to maintain just a bit of an illusion of what everyday life would be like.

Clock Tower overlooking St. Mark's

After unpacking we headed toward St. Mark's Square, hoping to enjoy as much of the city by foot as we could before the forecast rains began.  We walked through the Square, taking in its expanse of outdoor cafes before approaching the Basilica with its many arches and low domes.  We stopped to examine a rather whimsical exterior mosaic in which two Venetian merchants present St. Mark's body to the Doge and his wife, the Dogaressa.  After his arrival St. Mark became the patron saint of Venice and his traditional symbol the winged lion a ubiquitous presence throught the city.

We passed the huge Campanile, a reconstruction of the original tower that collapsed in 1902, and judged it too large for the scale of the rest of the square.  Only later, when we saw it from an island across the basin, did we realize its importance as a lighthouse.  Skirting the Doge's Palace beside the Basilica, we came to the Riva Deli Schiavoni, a broad waterfront promenade lined with luxurious hotels.  We strolled along the Riva as daylight faded.  Several gigantic and brightly lit liners emerged from the Grand Canal, presumably beginning their Mediterranean cruises with promenades of their own past St. Mark's.  Our walk eventually took us inland to a neighborhood square where we rested at a delightful local wine bar frequented by what seemed to be university students.

Delighted with our "discovery" of Venice's wine bars, we decided to look for similar spots in some of the other less-populous neighborhoods.  We found a perfect place in a small trattoria near the Campo San Barbara.  Though reservations were usually required we secured the last available table by promising to finish by 9:00 pm.  After a most enjoyable meal we walked back to the pensione, reaching it only after getting quite lost in the maze of narrow streets.

The next day, Sunday, we planned to visit a number of churches and museums, beginning with San Giorgio Maggiore across the basin from St. Mark's.  (Unfortunately, most of the sites forbid photography, and I am a law-abiding girl, so you won't get photos of the interiors.)  The vaporetto ride there down the Grand Canal was worth the trip in itself, affording more amazing views of the city.  Because only a few bridges cross the canal, there are also places where one can cross in small gondola-type boats called troncetti.  Locals ride standing, though this is not recommended for tourists.

Upon first entering San Giorgio Maggiore I had a surprisingly strong feeling of familiarity, as it reminded me of a smaller and less ornate version of St. Paul's Cathedral in London.  Then I realized that the connection was the opposite of what I had first thought, for San Giorgio had been built a century earlier, in the 1500s, designed by Andrea Palladio, who inspired generations of neo-classical architects from Christopher Wren, architect of St. Paul's, to Thomas Jefferson in America.

The light classical interior was restful after the baroque exuberance of the rest of Venice, and the church offered several wonderful works by Tintoretto in the choir.  Best of all was the view of Venice and outlying islands afforded from the bell tower.

  

We went on from there to tour the Doge's Palace, again, with the tremendous benefit of no lines, no jostling crowds.  In fact, after touring the ground floor, we took a coffee break in a cafe inside the Palace that was all but empty.

Nothing could drive home the fact of the power and glory that was Venice better than a visit to the Doge's Palace.  In fact, aside from the matter of size, I found it to be more opulent and impressive in its way than Versailles. 

The Doge was elected by his fellow merchant nobles to lead the Venetian Republic for life, but most seemed to focus on immortalizing themselves  by adding new rooms and wings to the Palace.  It is also a treasure house of works by artists such as Titian, Tiepolo, Veronese and Tintoretto, many featuring images of Doges, winged lions, and female personifications of Venice.  

 





After all the grandeur, it was chastening to finish the tour with a visit to the city's prison that once housed political dissidents as well as criminals and stands just across a little river from the palace.

It was now precisely 2 o'clock in the afternoon, Sunday opening time for St. Mark's Basilica.  We walked straight in and were blessedly able to wander back and forth through the church -- something that would have been impossible in high tourist season.  I couldn't take pictures, nor would I really have wanted to.  No camera can do justice to the wonders that are the mosaics of St. Mark's.  After all the beauty that we had already encountered, it was unquestionably the highlight of our trip.  

I can only try to capture one moment: when we entered it was not long after the end of the Sunday Mass and the air was heavy with the scent of incense.  One of the first things we saw was the powerful Pentecost Mosaic, a shimmering golden recreation of the moment when the Holy Spirit set the apostles's souls on fire.  Gazing up through the incense haze, a frisson of that divine power ran through me too.  It is one of the oldest mosaics in the church, from about 1125, and has much of the power of Byzantine icons.  It is also the sight that inspired in W. B. Yeats the words, "O sages standing in God's holy fire as in the gold mosaic of a wall, come from the holy fire... and be the singing-masters of my soul."

After wandering through the church to our hearts' content, we mounted steep stairs to the museum, where we were allowed to go out onto the loggia overlooking St. Mark's Square.  It is dominated by four magnificent bronze horses (or rather replicas of the original bronzes that are now in the museum, safe from the corrosive air outside).  These were probably cast in Greece in the second century B.C., then taken by Constantine to his new capital in Constantinople.  The Venetians stole them when they sacked Constantinople during the Fourth Crusade, and in turn Napoleon took them with him to Paris when he conquered Venice in 1797.  After he was deposed they were returned to their "rightful" home in Venice.

As we stood on the loggia, the long-promised rains began.  After a day full of such visual splendor we were ready for another wine bar and dinner, which fortunately we found only a few steps from our pensione.

The rain continued on Monday and together with a high tide produced the flooding that has become endemic in Venice.  As most people know, Venice is sinking, and many of the ground floors of the palaces are uninhabitable.  With rising sea levels that will probably be the result of global warming, the future of the city is unsure.  For the moment, risers are put up at times of high water to allow pedestrians passage.  But it was disconcerting to see areas that we had walked a day before now underwater.  

To complete our visit we toured the beautiful Franciscan Frari Church, one of the few Gothic churches in Venice.  Above the altar floats an amazing Assumption of Mary by Titian (1518) that I could not take my eyes off of -- and I am not generally a fan of Assumptions.  I also fell in love with a luminous Madonna and Child with Saints and Angels by Giovanni Bellini (1488) and a Byzantine-inspired Madonna and Child by Paolo Veneziano (1339).  It is so magical to see these paintings in their original homes instead of under the cold light of a museum.

But we had seen and done about all that we could absorb in two and a half days, and it was time to retrace our steps, back to the mainland, back to reality, after a magical visit to an alternate dimension.  Never again will we doubt the value of a visit to Venice.  But we strongly recommend going during the off-season!