The carnival is over (Venice)

Yes dear reader, I am aware that I have used this title before but in this instance I have no choice but to recycle. The reason will become apparent as you read on.

I struggled to get the day underway. It was much easier to stay in bed and doze, but this is our last proper day in Venice. Tomorrow, Tuesday is a transit day from here to Rome airport for the night flight to Abu Dhabi and then on to Sydney.

There are still things that we have to do in Venice, although I'm not sure we would feel compelled to return. Today we planned to see some more of the Biennale exhibits and visit the Correr Museum (and not get lost). Well, as Meatloaf sang, 2 out 3 ain't bad.

It was another perfect day, blue skies, no cloud, slight breeze to keep the temperature down and negate the impact of the humidity. We had our usual breakfast downstairs at our local in the Campo and walked down the alley to the main walk along the canal. From there we turned towards the Venetian version of the botanic gardens, the Giardini Pubblici, except they hold the major Biennale exhibition there.

Lifestyles of the rich and famous, Venice style.

I'd like to say that it was pleasant morning's walk, but it wasn't, at least to commence. Flooding toward us was tour group after tour group, literally. They covered, in places, the entire expanse of pavement. Group after group, slavishly following their leader's little elevated rag on a stick. Disregarding any of the niceties of pedestrian behaviour such as keeping to the right. On one bridge we were forced to wait until they had passed because to attempt a crossing could mean being swept in the other direction and being lost in Venice forever.

I think he could do with a scrub and a weed.

It would appear that many of the marauding groups are day trippers. Yes the most dreaded and feared of all tourists. They arrive in swarms by boat, disembark and locust-like sweep all before them, making noises like the ring wraiths in Lord of the Rings. Anyway, we dodged them, and in a few short minutes were out the other side, boats and groups behind us, into a gentler, quieter part of Venice.

We walked slowly, with sufficient space to outstretch my arms should the mood take me. And it did. Down the Cal Garibaldi and into the gardens where there is an interesting fountain. Interesting only for its inhabitants, a couple of very large koi carp, some goldfish and many turtles. They are red-eared sliders, apparently an introduced species.

The entrance to the park, beyond the fountain, is a wide, tree-lined walkway dotted with benches for people to sit and chat in the shade. A very pleasant place to meet your friends. We walked the length of this boulevarde onto the the boardwalk that runs next to the sea. The vista of San Marco was very different from what we were used to and provided a better picture of the vision the original founders had of Venice. We wandered slowly, enjoying the lack of people and arrived at the entry point for Biennale. What we had thought would be random sculptures, works and installations scattered throughout the gardens was actually a series of permanent exhibition halls - closed Monday. Today is, of course Monday. Much like Mark Twain musing on golf as a "good walk spoiled" we felt the same. We turned for home.

Graffiti on a statue in the park. Christians share a different view.

Back home, we sheltered from the early afternoon sun because it can be very strong. Feeling rested and brave enough to battle the crowds again, we ventured out to get some cash and then to the Correr Museum. It was close to the apartment just at the other end of San Marco Piazza and there was an auto teller there as well. To reinforce my notion that it was almost time to head home, I joined the queue at the auto-teller only to realise that I hadn't brought Jayne's card. No problem I'll use mine and reached for my phone, also at home. Oh well, to the museum. We were walking up the stairs to the museum when it occurred to me that I had also left the camera at home. Really? Where was my brain?

The Correr, like the Accademia had a standing exhibition of renaissance era art works as well as a modern exhibition. It also had older works dating back to the Etruscan, Mesopotamian and Egyptian civilisations. Even Jayne commented that there are only so many religious paintings you can look at, so the camera was not really missed. They also had another interesting painting by Hieronymus Bosch, a Dutch painter we had seen at dell' Accademia. Critics talk of his detailed work and blending of creatures to create a bizarre hybrid. He obviously had a significant influence on the work of Monty Python cartoonist Terry Gilliam. Bosch' work is either influenced by drugs or he is just plain weird.

The modern exhibition was by Shirin Neshat, an Iranian artist who presented a photographic series and an interesting short film called Roja. The film explores the concept of longing for homeland and opens with a shirtless male figure miming the words of The Carnival is Over that is being sung by a female. Hence today's title. In the credits it states that the song is a Russian folk song from the 1880's and was only translated into English in 1965 when it became the signature for Australian folk group, The Seekers.

Venice has a tower with a lean  as well

One the way to the museum, one of the spruikers from a restaurant around the corner asked if we wanted a drink. I told him we would come in on the way back and we dropped in to have our first aperol. Quite a refreshing drop it is too. It was, like many of the restaurant/bars over here, relatively small, but it had an extensive menu so we thought we would come back for dinner. Before that, there was one last bottle of wine to be finished on the altana.

It was much funnier than the picture shows

Later in the evening we heard what was more than the usual sound of the gondoliers from the canal below. Jayne was surprised to look out the window and see a gondola coming from the opposite direction to what they usually travel. There was a line of gondolas heading in the usual direction down to the Grand Canal and one lone, brave gondola going against the traffic. We had assumed it was a one-way street. Certainly this man heading in the wrong direction was causing major issues and was getting a serve from every gondolier that rounded the corner. Part of the problem was the blind corner that needed to be negotiated. The number of people on the bridge increased as did the people watching from windows. The embarrassed passengers didn't quite know where to look, although at one point the female passenger looked towards our window and I gave her the thumbs up - which she returned with a rueful smile.

We cannot understand how this rogue gondolier managed to come the wrong way down the canal - the gondolier fraternity seems pretty tight - could even be a generational thing. The services run in very defined segments of the canal - it does not seem like you can just go wherever you like - you hire, you get on board, you are paddled around a specific canal route (serenaded or not depending on how much you are willing to pay) and then you alight.  Jayne wondered if this was the beginnings of the invasion of Uber gondolas in Venice? That would be a fascinating battle!

Dinner was pretty good - again. The food has been pretty wonderful from start to finish. Last night a caprese salad and calamari followed by lasagne and pizza. I dreamed of my bike last night because I think I need the exercise to help remove some of the excesses of the trip.

This will be our last post for a while, as I tap away at the keys we are on the Frecciarossa to Rome to transit to the airport and then Sydney. Next time I write to you dear reader will be from home in Redfern.

Island of Lost Souls (Venice)

And today dear reader I hit the wall. I have had enough of the crowds, the lack of consideration for other people, the endless tour groups stampeding over anyone and anything who get in their way, the pushing and the shoving and dawdlers who block the entire alleyway while they look in shops or chat or just stand there indecisively. It is time for some space and that will happen soon enough. It is Sunday and we begin the long trek home on Tuesday. But let's begin with our last conclusion.

The Biennale is on, expect the unexpected

The fireworks never eventuated. Well they did, but not for us. We lasted until 10:30pm and gave up and went to bed to be awoken by sound of explosions at 11:30pm. The rumoured 45 minute display was just that, rumour. Obviously they commenced at 11:30pm to conclude at midnight. We both acknowledged the show had commenced with a weary sigh and drifted back to sleep. Fireworks are a bit passé for any Sydney-sider.

And I have nothing to say about this

When we emerged in the morning light, the evidence of the previous night's party had pretty well been erased. Except for the occasional smell of urine in the narrower alleys. Very reminiscent of Paris on a Sunday morning at this time of year. We ventured to our local Campo for breakfast - the usual, coffee, brioche and OJ. Not the cheapest but not the most expensive either. I paid and went to pick up my change when I noticed that amount on the counter was more than I had given him. He had given me change for 50€ not the 20€ I gave him. He looked somewhat surprised when I told him he'd given me too much money, but was grateful to put 30€ back in the till.

It was time to make our way to the Church of Santa Maria della Saluté, but before we reached our destination we came across the Gallerie dell'Accademia, San Marco. This was reached via a 'temporary' wooden bridge which has resisted its temporary nature and stands today, much like the temporary demountable classrooms of Australian schools. The Accademia was quite deserted so we detoured and spent a few hours there. I had tried to book tickets online earlier in the week, but that proved as difficult to negotiate as the alleyways of Venice or a ticket machine at an Italian train station. It was a bonus to find this museum so crowd-free. I imagine it was due to the late night festivities and fireworks.

The ancient race of ninjas

Another sign that we are nearing the end of our trip: the Accademia had a sameness about it to many other works of art we have seen over the past few weeks. More works by Tintoretto, Titian and Verenese. All special and spectacular in their right, but also similar to so many others. This is not a criticism, these artists and the many they influenced had a profound impact on the world.

Old or new?

What do you prefer?

There was also an exhibition of the work of Philip Guston, responding to the work of various poets such as Yeats and Eliot. The juxtaposition of his work next to the classics is puzzling. Well it is to me. All it does is to serve to highlight his lack of talent. I'm sure an art critic would tear down my comments, but his child-like renditions of feet, or scratchy depictions of every day objects against the work of Titian? Please. What was most interesting in this particular exhibition was the number of people who managed to repeatedly encroach on the alarmed spaces in front of the exhibits - all very clearly marked on the floor by lines and/or railings. As we moved through the spaces, we continuously heard the alarms being set off and actually observed one woman who set the thing off three times in less than a minute before her friend worked out it was her that was causing the alerts. Mind you, none of the security staff seemed remotely concerned or responded in any discernible way so may be they shared our opinion regarding the artistic merit of the works.

From the Accademia we walked down to the point occupied by the Church of Santa Maria della Saluté. It has views back across the Grand Canal to the San Marco area and down towards the main pier where the big cruise ships berth. It is certainly less crowded on this island and the views in large part are interrupted only by water craft, pylons and pontoons.

Looking back across the water to San Marco

Walking around the other side of the island we went down to Chiesa del Redentore to cross the pontoon bridge that is there for the Festa del Redentore. It is only there for one weekend a year and that is when the festival is on to commemorate the redemption of Venice against the plague through the intervention of the Virgin Mary, the patroness of Venice (in most artworks we have seen, Venice is represented by the blonde Queen of Heaven). The walk across the bridge is meant to be an experience reminiscent of either being on a boat or drunk, whichever best describes the rocking sensation that  is exaggerated by the wash caused by frequent boat traffic in the channel. This reminds Venetians of the precariousness of our earthly existence and the need to be grateful for the intervention of Mary to keep Venice safe. We walked across the bridge to the church just in time for midday mass.

The pontoon bridge

Then it was time to get hopelessly lost again. We staggered back across the bridge - swaying and moving with the waves and mapped our route back to the Accademia where we needed to cross on the other temporary (since the early 1900's) bridge back to the main island. Somewhere, somehow, we missed the Accademia; we think perhaps we walked around the back of it and down the other side and missed the bridge. We wandered happily until we realised we weren't where we were supposed to be. We were geographically embarrassed. We were lost. Hence today's title, Island of Lost Souls by Blondie. We couldn't find any of the nearby streets on a map, we were lost on an island of lost souls. In a moment of dejà vu, I thought it would be a good idea to follow the signs to Piazzale Roma, which we did for a while. Until we decided to locate Piazzale Roma on the map and saw that it was miles away from anywhere we wanted to be and it appeared to be a transit terminal of some sort.

No idea where this was, but it's where gondolas go to die.

Back to the drawing board. Then I lucked onto Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari, a ginormous church that would have to be on the map. It was. Wow. We were way off course and a long way from where we wanted to be. So, it was time to retrace our steps and find that elusive bridge near the Accademia. This time we were successful and thought it prudent to stop for a drink, a bite to eat and a rest. Semi-accidentally we located one of the cicchetta osteria's that was recommended to us but we couldn't get a seat so went around the corner to a cafe and took up a position people watching and enjoying a birra alla spina with a panini.

And that is Venice.

It was then, dear reader, that the crowds started to get to me. We were following a circumlocutious path home, as one does in Venice and the paths seemed to be narrower and the maddening crowds larger and the mindless tour groups more plentiful. Unusually, we did not pass a shop where you could buy wine so we had to back track and head towards San Marco and the area behind the square. Not good at this time of the day because the day-trippers were all still here. Eventually we found a shop that sold wine, Jayne made a quick purchase and we made directly for the apartment. Time to rest and recuperate before dinner at Da Jonny's at 7pm.

Dinner was beautiful once again. Tonight we shared a bowl of mussels and clams followed by gnocchi with red sauce and prawns and Jayne had rib-eye fillet and I had cuttlefish, finished off with desserts and coffee. Service, atmosphere, food, everything was perfect. We sat outside which meant we got to watch many a confused tourist wander past, not once, in many cases twice and occasionally three times. Not all of them were amused by their geographic dislocation. Sitting eating delicious food with a glass of wine - I was vastly amused. Although the call of the night goes to the older French lady who stopped to ask directions to the station and how long it would take to get there. Our waiter happily pointed to map and showed her the route to take and said it would take about an hour to walk there. Off she went only to return about 10 minutes later, a face like thunder, ignoring the directions she had been given. When we told the waiter, he laughed, shrugged his shoulders and said, "It is Venice".

Then is it was back to the apartment to sit in the altana and listen to the sounds of Venice changing gears into a more relaxed pace once many of the tourists had returned to the mainland. That's a happy thought with which to conclude this post.

Fun fact: The two most common sights in Venice?

1. People walking with a map in hand or sitting at a cafe with a map open, trying to work out where they are or how to get some where else.
2. People walking with the mobile phone in hand, following google maps.