It’s Biennale Nice Knowing You
Today was our last full day in this floating metropolis that we’ve so enjoyed. Venice is truly unique, a slice of Italian culture like no other.
I thought I should spend at least some time at the Biennale while we were here, so I wandered down through the giardini to line up for a ticket. The lines were long but I met a lovely Greek mother & daughter that helped pass the time and before I knew it, I was cruising around the beautiful leafy grounds amongst the pavilions. Reminiscent of the World Expo, different countries have different pavilions, showcasing one or more of their up-and-coming artists. There was loads of variety, the artworks ranging from absolutely fantastic to absolutely atrocious. The Spanish pavilion was just a completely empty space, the “art” supposedly the artist changing the angles of the white walls. There was a map of the exhibition that, when you opened it up, was just a blank page. They have a good sense of humour those Spaniards.
I loved the Belgian pavilion that had multiple screens of different sizes showing kids from lots of different countries, playing improvised games. It was very cool to see how their environments shaped the kinds of games they played, some of which were downright dangerous; challenging to watch when we’re so drilled to be safety-conscious. There wasn’t a protective barrier, helmet, seatbelt (or for that matter, a single adult supervising) when the grommets somewhere in Africa tucked themselves into huge truck tyres and launched themselves off a huge hill, pelting towards the bottom at breakneck speed. Or the kids in the war torn Middle East, who played with giant pieces of broken glass, reflecting the sun in each other’s eyes. Our kids aren’t even allowed down a metal slippery dip.
As the morning wore on, I saw a sizeable lineup of people winding through a little hedged area. “This one must be good. Everyone’s keen to see this one, ” I thought, and joined the queue. I stood in the line for a good ten minutes before I got a whiff of Harpic Flushmatic and realised it was actually the line for the popular “Toilet Pavilion”.
After Molly’s last uni class, she bid her lecturer and classmates ‘addio’ and we met up for one last crack at some serious sightseeing. Packing into the undersized, overpopulated vaporetto, we sailed down towards St Mark’s Square. Molly had purchased some online tickets for us to ascend the heights of the Campanile - the spectacular bell tower in the famous square. There was a big line of travellers traversing the terrazzo so I thought we’d be in for a wait, that was until Molly broke the welcome news that our tickets were ‘Skip The Line’. We sailed right to the front and got to go straight in. Happy days. A fast lift zoomed to the top where we were treated to panoramic views of the entire city. It was a festival of terracotta roof tiles, punctuated by giant-domed basilicas and boats whizzing along the canals. With a bird’s eye view of all those stripy-t-shirted gondoliers, it looked like a giant game of Where’s Wally. Such an incredible view!
The other Venetian icon we were yet to set foot inside, was the Doge’s Palace, the constantly mammoth queues putting us off. By the time we left the Tower, it was 6pm and the queue was virtually non-existent - not even needing to be skipped. The Palace closed at 7pm so we had plenty of time for a look around. Molly jumped online and secured us some tickets and we had the luxury of swanning around state rooms, dawdling down corridors and marvelling at marvellous marble - the Duke’s digs almost completely devoid of people. This place is so opulent! Grand staircases, scantily clad statues aplenty and heavily ornate, golden adorned ceilings…they certainly didn’t just settle for a nice coat of duck egg blue.
The highlight for us was walking across the famed Bridge of Sighs, so named for the sad sighs the prisoners would elicit as they caught their last glimpse of the sparkling canal, through peep holes, as they were escorted over the bridge to their cramped cells to serve their sentences.
I’m not sure what those prisoners were incarcerated for back in the day but modern day Venice certainly has a lot of rules that can be broken. For a start, swimwear in the street is a no-no, with bikini tops and bare chests strictly outlawed. You can’t sit on the steps of any monuments or sit much in general, with barely any public seating available and sitting on the ground, especially in a public square, punishable by law. As far as parks go, if you find yourself itching to pull out the picnic rug, think again. Not only is public eating frowned upon, picnics are against the law. Legend has it that a few years ago, a pair of caffeine-loving, industrious Germans, set up their camp chairs and popped their coffee pot on their little portable gas burner, hoping to relax with a cuppa by the Rialto Bridge. For their flagrant flouting of the law they were immediately expelled from the city and fined a whopping €1080! Just as well they weren’t wearing bikinis.
Bikes and skateboards are also frowned upon in the fair city of Venezia. Unless you are under 8, you are not even allowed to wheel a cycle around town. We saw one enterprising bloke, obviously exploiting a loophole, towing a bike along with a rope.
The heat was intense again today and we had a sweaty walk via the Rialto Bridge, to the cute little area of San Polo for dinner. Being Saturday night, we had trouble finding a table without a booking. Some friends suggested some great places for our last night (thanks Eloise!) but alas, they were all booked out. We did find a great little place with scrumptious food and by the time we got home we had walked for miles and were totally and utterly exhausted!
