Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Antica formula

Perhaps I was tired after a long morning at the Uffizi Gallery and the train journey from Florence, but Venice did not immediately appeal - it seemed crowded and cold - both of which it was, of course, but in that not an exception. Rome had been cold, wet, incomparable but exhausting. Florence, colder than Rome, comfortably walkable and a delight. Venice, thus, had a lot to live up to and at first glance, candidly, it did not. Odd, though, considering we'd walked out of the Venezia Santa Lucia right onto the vaporetto and taxi dock and there spread out before us at the beginning of the Grand Canal was Venice in all its colorful, crumbling variety under a blue metalled sky.


However, after a taxi ride the length of the Grand Canal and, not an hour later, a shivery stroll from our hotel - a converted Gothic convent, next to the Santa Maria della Salute, that great Baroque thanksgiving for deliverance from the plague epidemic of 1630, standing sentinel at the mouth of the Grand Canal - past the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, towards the Accademia Bridge and over to St Marks Square, where the Basilica in all its Byzantine splendor, the brick and stone campanile, and the Doges' great gothic pink and white palace glowing in the westering sun lightened the mood as feet, nonetheless, got heavier and the wind off the water, sapping what strength remained, finally sent us to Caffè Florian where a pot of hot chocolate, a glass of wine, two tramezzini, and a few bemused glances outside to the frigid square were all it took to comfort both body and spirit - and bring the city of Venice into beautiful focus.







Light, by turns clear, shrouded, enveloping, transporting, mercurial, is one of the aspects of Venice that has made it a subject of paintings for centuries. A cliché, I know, but it's obvious the omniprescence of water that makes the light, even the lack of it, what it is. In twilight we walked back over the Accademia Bridge, to the hotel bar for a Manhattan, this time alas without the antica formula vermouth I'd been introduced to in Rome, and for the Celt, a Negroni. Hotel bars, like hotel lobbies and buses in New York City, are perfect places for sharing sometimes surprisingly personal anecdotes and experiences, practicing second or even third languages, tricking, comparing notes, taking advice, or just sitting by the window watching reflections dance on the water as the world sails by.


That evening, after sprucing up in our gold-leafed bathroom (floor, ceiling, walls and shower stall all covered in squares of gold leaf behind sheets of glass) we strolled alongside narrow canals, by empty market places, through cramped, ill-lit alleys and on over small squares, to dinner. Dramatic after dark, Venice is one pool of light after another, mostly given over to an amusingly noir chiaroscuro, yet the city is unthreatening and happily friendly. The crowds being mostly absent, walking is easier at night - wandering under a starry sky over the innumerable small narrow bridges, with the help of an iPhone, Google Maps, and the frequent hand-lettered signs pointing towards San Marco, Rialto, Accademia, and Santa Croce, is one of the best of things.


The Celt took the photographs mostly with his iPhone.

11 comments:

  1. I always imagined Venice would be more bearable in December crowd-wise, but clearly it's a plan that no longer works, and of course you may have to contend with flooding, which would be a real bore. (We have enough of that here in our own Venice - of the East; happily for us, however, it's only near the river that people are affected.) But they do warn that in 20-30 years Bangkok will be underwater.

    But your narrative does bring back happy memories of our visit to Serenissima. We did visits to Venice and Florence in reverse to your trip, so we were completely overwhelmed with the sights on our arrival by launch, and rather disappointed initially with Florence.

    ReplyDelete
  2. "one pool of light after another" a great eye for a great effect.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Heaven! I can't wait to see it for myself.

    ReplyDelete
  4. From the warm comfort of my bedroom it all sounds delightful, although I can appreciate how cold it must have been. It's incredible how different the city feels at night after everyone has left. You can walk to or from dinner at night and never encounter a soul. What a change from daytime and all those horrible people! Nice pics...dying now for a sip of that hot chocolate!

    ReplyDelete
  5. It must have been the gold-leafed bathroom that gave you enough inner warmth and outer shimmer to venture out again! Too bad about the Antica Formula, but maybe you slipped some in your cases before returning home?

    ReplyDelete
  6. When I first went to Venice, I looked up a distant relative who had married -- of all things -- a gondolier. In my innocence, I had thought of gondoliers as nothing more than soggy cab drivers. But of course, that's not at all true. His family had been gondoliers for many generations, and he lived in a wonderful house in Giudecca. After a dinner of grilled sardines up on their roof, he and his wife took us out on the Grand Canal -- dragging a bottle of champagne in the water, which we opened and drank by moonlight. (It was one of those moments that make life almost bearable.)

    By an odd coincidence, he looked quite like this:

    http://images.artnet.com/artwork_images_1004_495752_johnsinger-sargent.jpg

    ReplyDelete
  7. Think you may be falling under Venice's spell. Adored the pictures of the Caffe Florian...can almost taste the tramezzini with white truffle butter. If you can, make time for Torcello...the little basilica is a gem. Also the isle of San Lazaro where the kindest monks will show you around the monastery and the library, and it is possible to buy a jar of rose petal jam.

    ReplyDelete
  8. I can't even imagine Venice in the winter. Seems I always end up there in unbearable heat, my white linen shirts plastered to my back as I trek from out-of-the-way church to another in search of hidden Titians and relief from the crowds. Regardless of its frustrations, however, I always find a little Venetian magic somewhere.

    ReplyDelete
  9. I have to say, I'm with the Celt on the Negroni, which is so gorgeous in backlight. But otherwise, I wish you'd have a word with His Celtness on taking your entry into the next port of call seriously enough, not to hypothecate his considerable photographic acumen to the device you mentioned. We need true Celtwork, 24/7, or your own prose will do very nicely, it need hardly be said.

    THAT should reach him . . .

    ReplyDelete
  10. The last of The Celt's (as in whatever The Scotch of Worthiness), should be blown up and framed or painted. Love the light on the water in night's chiaroscuro.

    ReplyDelete
  11. When I visited Venice it was so humid, so this was probably a nice change of pace. Love the last shot of the reflection on the water. Thanks for sharing.

    ReplyDelete