La Laguna
Molly’s uni class was at the other main site in Venice this morning, so for me, it was another day solo exploring in this beautiful city. I booked myself on a half day “cruise” to three of the other islands in the Venetian Lagoon. The lagoon is an enclosed bay inside the Adriatic Sea and apart from Venice, there are actually 118 islands in the lagoon, so visiting only three was barely scratching the surface.
With the mercury tipped to reach 30 today, I lathered on the suncream and headed off on a hot walk towards St Mark’s Square where we were all instructed to meet. Though I’d downloaded a ticket online, I had to visit the ticket office to convert it to a paper ticket to show the conductor and board the boat. Once it had been ripped, and I was safely onboard, I would’ve just tossed it in the bin had I found one. Instead, quite fortuitously it turns out, I just shoved it back in my bag. What the conductor had failed to tell me was: “guard that ticket with your life. If you lose it, you will not be permitted back on the boat under any circumstances. The online ticket means nothing.” Sadly, one of my tour mates did the unforgivable and was tossed off the vessel (thankfully onto dry land). Obviously we all knew this guy was part of our group, so after a small mutiny ensued, the entire shipload of day-tripping passengers, including his wife, attested to his legitimacy and he was issued with another paper ticket and allowed back on.
Our guide spoke so quickly and loudly, you had to concentrate hard to catch what she was saying. She said everything in Italian first, followed by such heavily-accented English, it was tricky to know when she’d switched over. The Italian commentary seemed to go for much longer and even elicited a few laughs, while the English version was decidedly brief and not funny at all. Well I guess we are in Italy after all. There were in fact, only a handful of English speakers onboard. In a what-are-the-chances moment, I recognised a girl -Kira Stubbs-that went to school with my kids at Narrabeen Lakes Public School! Amazingly, she remembered me too and told me she’s midway through her big European backpacking adventure. What a small world, eh? I also met a couple of lovely Galway girls, Meghan and Lisa, who were fresh out of school and on a whirlwind Eurail trip across the continent.
Our first stop was the gorgeous island of Murano, famous for its incredible glass craftsmanship since the 13th century. We were ushered off the boat straight into a workshop, complete with fiery furnace and slightly reluctant glass-blower, for an unparalleled glass blowing demonstration. Maisy, you would have loved it. It was amazing to watch the skills of this expert artisan as he plunged the glass into the fire and moulded it into a cute little vase in record time. I got the impression he could’ve done it with his eyes closed. He also whipped up a little fish/dolphin with its tail in the air and once done, encouraged us with hand signals to shuffle out quick-smart. Obviously not up for a Q and A session today?
Predictably, our exit was through the Murano glass gift shop where the punters made the rookie error of buying up big and then seeing the exact same things in numerous gift shops in town for a quarter of the price. We had about an hour and a half to wander around the island and explore before meeting back at the boat. Murano was gorgeous! All the bridges over the canals were matching and there were lots of cute shops to browse in, not surprisingly, full of amazing glass. You could buy just about anything made of glass - shoes (Cinderella must have shopped here), ties, hair accessories, phone cases…glass versions of anything and everything. There was a great glass museum to wander through as well.
Bags clinking with breakables, everyone hopped back on the boat to compare purchases as we motored to our next destination, the quieter little island of Torcello. Torcello was gorgeous, much less developed with more land and vegetation. It only has 15 permanent residents but the population swells marginally in summer when the guesthouse rooms are filled. The walk from the wharf down to the main area was so pretty, along a curvy path with beautiful herringbone pavement; the mirror-like canal on one side and rows of brightly coloured oleander trees along the other. There were leafy little restaurants tucked in under the trees, offering plenty of shade and more importantly, icy cold drinks. The path led down to a magnificent church, under the olive trees; Basilica di Santa Maria Assunta, with exquisite Venetian-Byzantine mosaics. The church had a bell-tower too that was said to have brilliant views. I’d have to take the word of the one brave couple who ventured to the top. It was just way too hot to even consider attempting all those stairs. There were a couple of market stalls on the island, selling dresses and souvenirs and a food van, doing a roaring trade on drinks and iceblocks. I bought some cute little paintings from a guy sitting under a tree with his oil paints and easel set up.
Torcello also has a little area set aside for ancient artefacts; pieces of Roman columns, statues and tombstones. It was really interesting. I got carried away with reading all the inscriptions and almost didn’t make it back to the boat, having to break into a jog to get back in time. By the time I stepped aboard, I was sweating up a storm and my beetroot-like face alarmed the conductor enough to ask if I was alright. Oh Rhonda, it was so hot! In some of my selfies, it looks like I have applied a special Red Face filter.
Our last-but-not-least island in the sun today, was the charming and colourful Burano. It was every bit as amazing as it looks in the photos. The brightly painted houses, in every colour of the rainbow, were just so gorgeous! Apparently the bright colours were originally used so fishermen coming home late in the winter could identify their own abodes and not accidentally eat from a friend’s fridge, kiss someone else’s kids goodnight or heaven forbid, end up in bed with a mate’s wife. Perhaps the bright colours were suggested by the wives of Burano?
This town was a bit more maze-like than the others and I did feel a bit nervous about getting lost. Every little laneway was so full of colour and life, with kids riding bikes, groups of women drinking coffee, blokes watering plants. It was such a great atmosphere. Just about every house had a curtain over the front door fluttering in the breeze, so they could keep cool inside and maintain a bit of privacy. Burano is also known for its exquisite hand sewn lace and the main street was bustling with tourists visiting lace shops and eating at the countless restaurants and cafes overflowing out into the street. This photogenic island had the Instagrammers out in force, cameras clicking all over the place. I couldn’t help myself either and took WAY too many photos I know (sorry about that).
Sailing back towards Venice provided us with incredible views of all the buildings. We also passed an amazing sculptured bridge, constructed in 2019 for the Biennale and consisting of six pairs of giant human hands clasping together. It’s very cool.
The tour was great but the heat of the day was intense and there was lots of walking involved so by the time we disembarked back in Venice, I was plum tuckered out. Absolutely knackered. I shuffled along, Cliff Young-style, back to our apartment, with some shade and water fountain stops along the way, and then immersed myself in an icy cold shower. I’m sure I was sizzling as the cold water hit me. I’d have given anything for a swim. Unfortunately, aside from private pools, there’s nowhere at all to swim in Venice. The beaches on the nearby island of Lido are swimmable but that would’ve involved another walk and a ferry ride, neither of which I had the energy for, so a shower would have to suffice. It did the trick.
Molly’s out for dinner with the uni crew tonight so I’m looking forward to a takeaway pizza and an early night (I sound so old!) Listening to some Dean Martin Italian songs that remind me of Mum.
Arrivederci!
