Wandering in Venice

The Santa Marie della Salute, which stands at the entrance to the Grand Canal © A. Harrison

I started my day standing at the bar in a cafe in Venice, drinking an espresso and eating a chocolate croissant. The croissant was still warm, and the chocolate melted as I bit into the flaky pastry. I’d found the cafe in a little alley somewhere near my apartment. I stood surrounded by locals, all of us taking seriously the art of waking up and facing the day.

It proved to be a day of wandering, the turns and twists as I got lost filled with amazing finds.

Whichever way I headed from my apartment, I landed in a network of alleyways. I passed pet shops and tiny grocery stores, a hardware place, and even some garden stores; all a reminder of how Venetians still live surrounded by a splendour which so many come to visit each year. Only in Italy could a row of toilet seats or a collection of taps be so artistically displayed.

Simply wandering and looking in the windows was a delight in itself. I passed a window filled with the most stunning of fabrics, a bargain at 100 Euro per metre. Lanes barely wide enough for two people to pass opened into small courtyards, which then gave a choice of cobblestones to follow. Often there was a stone well in the centre, or a tree covered with spring blooms. Crowded streets suddenly became empty; with a turn of a corner, the crowds returned once more.

One of the oldest areas of the city, and once home to impoverished nobility, the Dorsoduro remains an area where the locals outnumber the tourists. It has long been home to artists and writers — and now university students. Some of the city’s best art works are to be found here, whether in museums such as the Accademia, or churches such as the Sculoa Grande dei Carmini.

Crossing the Ponte San Barnaba, I spied a statue on a top of a church which seriously looked as if Jesus had taken up snowboarding. Somewhere I passed a McDonalds, barely noticing the place as there were no golden arches to catch the eye. Dogs were everywhere, either out with their owners or being well-behaved with dog walkers. I walked until I was literally off the tourist map, with none of those handy arrows which guide bewildered tourists through the maze of Venetian streets to either the Rialto or San Marco.

Led on by a delightful maze of back lanes filled with artist galleries, I came to the Peggy Guggenheim Museum. What a life, to have the money to live in a palace with sweeping views down the grand canal! A patron of the arts (an inherited fortune always helps), Peggy filled her home with the works of modern artists, such as Picasso, Jackson Pollock, and Max Ernst (her husband).

A balcony stretches from the front of the museum onto the Grand Canal, from where the Angelo della Città, a statue of a man on a horse (the man often described as ‘erect in all respects’), has a perfect view of Venice. Gorgeous gardens stretch behind the museum, filled with sculpture which spills over into the cafe.

Somehow, despite my wanderings, it was only a short trip (in a relatively straight line) back home, for a well deserved glass of prosecco and a nap.

One of the few gondola workshops in Venice © A. Harrison

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