In which Layla and Roz explore the canals and alleys and pastry shops of wintery Venice

by Layla

Who would have ever guessed that being a language student would rob Roz and me of our fabulously frequent holidays in a way that even our most intense jobs have never managed? Poor Roz has been in class every day for seventeen weeks with only one paltry weekend in Rome during that time to give her a taste of what might be, while I've done thirteen weeks. But at last: my class has a 2-week break over Christmas and the moment the clock struck 1pm on my last day, we were both en route to the airport like addicts with our addictive substance in sight. In our case a glorious two-week holiday to Venice, Berlin and Jordan.

An odd combination? Well the flights from Berlin to Amman were cheap. And the Europe flights were the price of a glass of wine or two. And I'd never seen Venice - and given our imminent move, I knew it was either now or wait at least 5 years!

Apparently in summer you can hardly walk for the crowds in Venice. Everything is expensive and stressful. Not so in December. We came in from the airport on a waterbus and as I stepped out onto the misty pier, gondolas bobbing and ornate churches illuminated around me, I realised that everything I knew about Venice came almost exclusively from the books Miss Garnett's Angel and What Katy Did Next. For instance, I had no idea there are genuinely no roads for cars in Venice! 

As we stood in the dark mist, our AirBnB host not appearing, I began to feel a little anxious. But then we splashed out on a phonecall and found there had been a miscommunication. Five minutes later someone had rescued us and was leading us through gloriously atmospheric cobblestoned lanes to our very own Venetian apartment. And having dumped our luggage in what was potentially our nicest-ever AirBnB abode, we ventured forth into the night. First stop: prosecco and fabulous pizza and a toast to this long-awaited holiday. Second stop: a walk over our first of ten million little Venetian bridges over canals to reach St Mark's Square, only 5 minutes away. This is the huge central square of Venice, and it was a delight to walk through it at night, admiring the amazing church that flanks it, the huge Christmas tree, and the brilliant architecture. We strolled home, shivering just a little, and feeling quite delighted with the first stop in our Christmas holiday extravaganza.

The next day we breakfasted at a cute local bar and got properly acquainted with Venetian pastry skills. Delicious. Then we thanked goodness for Google maps as we made our way to the starting point of our Free Walking Tour, just a 20 minute walk from our flat, but across about 20 bridges, through 10 charming squares, and with about 75 twists and turns through narrow cobbled alleyways featuring cute little shops and restaurants and other such sights that felt like they had surely fallen out of a book about a fairytale place. 

Our tour was fun: it gave us a real feel for how Venice had grown on these tiny islands in a lagoon, how each one was its own neighbourhood even though they were only metres apart, and the unique way of life of Venetians today. We wove past churches (popped into one with a painting on the largest roof canvas in the world), stopped for a spritz (alcoholic drink that most Venetians seem to drink most days in cute little bars on their way home from work - a key social tradition in the city), and heard about high tide, when the waters rise so much that the streets are routinely flooded and everyone goes around in wellies. Afterwards we wandered in desperate search of lunch, found somewhere with sandwiches, got a bit lost and eventually found our afternoon target: Fortuny Palace. This art gallery had the double benefits of being (1) housed in an old Venetian palace (just like the one I was currently reading about in The Haunted Hotel by Wilkie Collins), and (2) having new exhibitions opening that very day, notably one by lesbian artist Romaine Brooks (plus another intriguing exhibition of the works of Ida Barbarigo). We had a hilarious and delightful time exploring the nooks and crannies of this huge, dark, quirky building and its cool art, before we extracted ourselves reluctantly and put the coordinates of one of Venice's top chocolate shops into Google maps. We spent the rest of the afternoon winding our way through yet more charming, complicated cobblestone mazes until, hooray, there it was! I indulged accordingly... We popped home, then out to a vegetarian restaurant that we had read about, a significant trek across the Rialto bridge and copious other little bridges and corners and alleys until our great triumph at finding the restaurant was staunched by the sad fact that they were fully booked. Huffily we retraced our steps and then veered off in another direction to find Roz's plan B restaurant, a very quaint, typical Venetian place that whipped up butternut squash lasagne for us, and a cheese plate, and was entirely delightful until I had some weird allergic reaction to, probably, cheese (the horror! I refuse to be developing an allergy to cheese!), and we had to flee homewards for antihistamines... duly dosed, we went out again to stroll in St Mark's square, eerily/atmospherically cloaked in mist this evening, before bed. 

The next day we had concocted a scheme to visit one of the further-away Venetian islands, thus enjoying a boat ride and getting to see a little village. Our choice was the lace-making island of Burano (because Roz had visited the closer island of Murano, where they make glass, when she was 11, and the boat didn't stop at the more obscure Torcello in winter). The morning was hilariously misty, so we found ourselves cruising through water that was entirely cloaked in mist - all we could see was the pearly surface of the water next to the boat and an occasional duck. Entirely surreal. Burano, also deeply shrouded in mist, was charming: lots of tiny houses painted in every colour, lots of lace shops, and a hot chocolate for me. Much needed: it was chilly! On our return we walked north and grabbed some tapas-y lunch and prosecco at a delightful little canalside bar before heading to an obscure dock for our extravagance of the holiday: a rowing lesson! We met a cheery Texan girl and she took us on board what looked like a gondola but was technically something slightly more stable, and before long, we were rowing our way through the canals of Venice, waving to passers by and executing slightly expert turns (well, Roz was...) while not even shrieking as we balanced on the top of the boat while doing so (well, Roz didn't...). The sky turned unexpectedly blue, and we had an entirely delightful time, smugly wondering why anyone would take a gondola ride when they could propel their own sort-of-gondola instead! 

After our lesson, feeling very proud of ourselves, we walked to the Jewish ghetto (apparently the first Jewish ghetto - the word comes from the Italian word for a foundry that was previously on that island) and soon found ourselves in the much-needed warmth of a fantastic pastry shop. We demolished several while reading our books and musing on how we felt totally exhausted. 

Finally sated, we stepped out of the shop, planning to head to a boat stop on the Grand Canal and do the requisite touristy cruise down the Grand Canal. While we ate cake, the weather had changed from a chilly, sunny day to the mistiest day in the world. Undeterred, we got on the boat. Turned out it was heading not down the Grand Canal, but to the lagoon and various unscenic locations. Off the boat, onto another one, thanking goodness for our 24-hour pass, and soon we were indeed cruising down the beauty of the Grand Canal. Well, what we could see of it beyond the mist. We chose to find it charmingly atmospheric. And huddled together for warmth... and decided to ditch our plan of getting a boat to an island with a bell tower from which we could see all of Venice, since in fact we could only see about 2 metres in front of us! 

We warmed up at home with tea and the giant box of Quality Street chocolates that were technically part of my Christmas present from Roz... then went out to a nice bar for pre-dinner drinks, and onwards for a final evening's delicious pizza. And of course Roz made me do a final evening's stroll around St Mark's square, undeterred by my chattering teeth and chilly wails. It was mistier than ever, and very lovely.

On our final day we eked out the last value from our 24 hour ferry passes by hopping over the water first to a cafe, and then to the Peggy Guggenheim Museum. A really attractive building with some great modern art, though my greatest amusements came from looking out to the Grand Canal from its windows, and laughing vigorously as Roz whacked her forehead off the glass while doing so. After our fill of Picasso and Warhol and the like, we did one final expedition, this time weaving and winding our way to one of the top pastry shops in Venice. Where I indulged appropriately. We dashed back to our flat, grabbed our bags, dragged them through various cobbled mazes, and over various giant bridges, and eventually we were on the boat to the airport. I have never taken a more surreal conveyance out of a city. It was so misty it felt that we were in some strange post-apocalyptic world, bobbing along in the pearly obscurity. It felt quite surprising when, after a significant walk at the other side, we entered a perfectly normal airport. Back to reality. Next stop: Berlin!