Verona, Venice and Rome Again...
We are off to Verona and Venice, after an early breakfast at the Florence Metropole Hilton, which is far outside the city center and has a front traffic gate they lock at night...this is part of the reason I won't miss Florence. While I loved the art and the drive up from Pisa was gorgeous, with fields of red poppies in amongst the dry grass, we were far outside of Florence itself. There was nothing about the city itself that I really loved. It just was not a place I liked very much.
I have a feeling that the Verona stop, which was explained by Alessandro, our tour guide, as, “A stop to see the famous balcony where Juliet lived....or so the story goes,” was really a timing issue. I think the tours plan them so that the hotel,where a large group of tourists has just checked out, can clean the rooms before another large group of tourists (us!) check in for two nights. At any rate, it was a nice town, with an existing, small Colosseum in very good shape (far from downtown) and a lovely town square with an herb market. We did indeed go into the inner courtyard to see “the Juliet balcony” but did not pay to get into the house. Shakespeare did not live there and I personally think he just liked the name “Verona.” On the walls of the hallway leading to the courtyard are thousands of declarations of love, some pinned on little notes.

We went to the herb market and bought lovely dried fruit and had lunch off the square at a little sandwich shop, where Bill had his first experience with an Italian pit toilet...enough said. Venice was about a hour away.
When we arrived at Venice, we were dropped off by the bus in a large traffic circle and had to walk across two bridges (everything in Venice is measured this way, where we might say, “it's two blocks from here...” in Venezia, “it's two bridges away” is something you'll hear all the time.) to get to the hotel. The baggage was brought by boat, because everything in Venice, from Fedex to food deliveries, to tourists, are brought by boat. Our hotel was on the Grand Canal, right across from the very busy train station.

Our room keys at each hotel are handed out by the tour guide and apparently the hotel determines one lucky group member who will have a room with a canal view. The lucky member of our tour was Catriona, a retired Illinois school teacher, traveling alone and she was thrilled. Bill and I, on the other hand, were shown to an interior room about 140 square feet, tiny bathroom overlooking the air conditioning system on the room and reeking of cigarette smoke. Bill took one look at me and went back to the desk. We ended up paying extra to have a smoke free room with a grand canal view (we are right behind the red and gold Lion flag of Venice), but we had to pay for it.

Our next stop was off to the gondoliers for a ride around Venice.
We were lucky enough to ride with two couples we'd met on the tour and really liked, Barb and Mike, from Connecticut and Sunny and Ron from Virginia. The Gondola holds six people but only four of them can actually sit next to each other. Bill and I were the last on board and couldn't sit together. But after looking at the alarmed faces of the Gondoliers who helped us all on board (imagine a flurry of Italian, “how will we place all the fat Americans without swamping the Gondola?”) I got the positioning. Mike, who was in the back of the boat said to his wife as we were all snapping pictures of each other, “How come all our vacation pictures make me look fat?” which made everyone laugh. We had four Gondolas of tour participants complete with an accordionist and singer, which the tour company arranged because the Gondoliers don't wear little hats anymore and they don't sing anymore. It was about a 30 minute ride and we saw people in Gondolas the whole rest of our time in Venice. Our local tour started the next day.
We took a private boat,early, to the boat dock that is closest to St. Mark's square. We met our local guide, Manuella there and she took us to the Doge's Palace first.
The interior does not allow pictures, so we'll just have to describe it to you. Basically the Doge was elected, first by all the people of Venice and eventually, by only the aristocrats. This is because a subcouncil of the merchants passed a law that only the aristocrats could belong to the council. The Golden Book, which listed the families who could belong to the council, still exists in the archives of Venice, which are the third largest collection in the world. The Doge's palace was the original hall of justice and there was a council and subcouncils for all decisions. No one trusted anyone else and the Doge is seen in all the paintings there (only two of which have been restored because it's too expensive) as kneeling because he is supposed to be subject to the will of the people. In fact, he was subject to only the will of the merchant class.
We proceeded outside of the palace and over the “Bridge of Sighs” which has nothing to do with romance because it was the bridge that the prisoners took after they had been judged and found guilty in the Doge's Palace and were on their way to the Doge's prison. There is a place in the Doge's palace where people could accuse each other of crimes against the state. They merely wrote the accusation on paper, signed it and slipped it into the mouth of this wall carving.

They did have to sign the accusation....it could not be anonymous.
The prison was very bad and while prison should never be comfortable, I don't think having lead roofs in the top cells so the prisoners actually baked, would be considered humane, even several centuries ago. This cell may look large, but 15 to 20 occupied it!

We proceeded to the Cathedral of St. Marks and Manuella had an interesting explanation for the nature of the City of Venice, a city started and controlled for the longest period in history, by the merchant class. She told us that some consider St. Mark, the patron saint of Venice, to be the patron saint of merchants, but he is also called the patron saint of thieves. The merchants of Venice were apparently fond of taking what they couldn't buy in a good bargain, including their patron saint.

This mosaic above the cathedral door depicts how St. Mark came to Venice. The patron saint of Rome is St. Peter. Venice has always had quite a rivalry with Rome (the only painting in the Doge's Palace with the Doge not kneeling is when the Pope came to Venice for a visit). Venice decided it had to have a patron saint and if it couldn't have an Apostle, it would have an Evangelist and it chose St. Mark. Unfortunately, he was buried in Egypt. So, the merchants traveled to Egypt and stole the body of St. Mark, brought it back and buried it in Venice. The merchants of Venice managed to fool the customs officials on the way out of Egypt by placing raw pork over the coffin of St. Mark. The muslims were offended by the pork and never checked the coffin....according to the story. Poor St. Mark, he wasn't even born in Venice as as far as we know, he never wanted to come here. But, he's now here for eternity.
When the cathedral was finished, the merchants felt it wasn't fine enough so they went to Constantinople and stole these four bronze horses to place on the front!

The cathedral is very Byzantine in appearance, not like any other church we have seen. The interior of the ceiling is all 24 carat gold leaf and mosaic after mosaic, which is really an Eastern rather than a Western art form. It is quite beautiful, but no photos! San Marco Square is enormous and I think it would take you an entire day to take in the sights and the stores and the people. There is the most beautiful clock, mosaic, in the square with all the signs of the Zodiac and a moon that actually changes during the month to show the phase of the moon. Also note that in this clock the Sun is traveling around the Earth! Something Copernicus would fix later with Galileo (who the pope has yet to pardon - as he was convicted of heresy during the inquisition for stating that the earth traveled around the sun!)

The tides are something everyone in Venice pays attention to since severe flooding usually occurs twice a year, at the Autumn and Spring Solstices. Everything here is built on huge pillars of timber sunk into the mud under Venice. Under bell tower alone there are 3,007 timbers.
When we finished we were rushed into a glass factory, not on Murano, the glass making island,but in the city of Venice, where we saw a demonstration and then were rushed into large rooms which were full of high pressure sales men. I think the glass was beautiful but 500 Euros for a pitcher and four glasses was not in the budget. We saw a lot of beautiful things and the life-sized horse in the entry was entirely made of glass.

Bill and I waited on the bridge for Sunny and Ron, since we were getting lunch and got this shot totally by accident!

We were going to a tiny place recommended by one of my books, Cava Tapi, in a very small street two bridges from San Marco Square. We had a really, really good meal there in a tiny place with five tables and a bar. Some of the best pasta we've had.
We were going to Murano that afternoon so left Sunny and Ron in the square. It was a 20 minute boat ride. We went through the glass museum, which has glass going back to the 2nd century and some really amazing art pieces. On the way back to the boat, we stopped in a small shop to get some souvenirs, what my children used to call “pimentos” of our trip. The owner was a lovely man who asked where we were from and when we told him, said, “I love Ouray and Telluride in the Summer.” The world is a small place.
Going back to the hotel our boat broke the record for the most number of people every carried on a small boat without swamping it. I was literally wedged into a niche with two British woman (we were standing) and a man(sitting) wearing very short shorts and many gold necklaces, who slept through the whole ride. Everyone except the driver got off at the train station. We crossed the bridge, got back to the hotel for a short rest before our “romantic” Venetian dinner.
Bill had asked Claudia at the front desk for a restaurant recommendation and made a reservation for us at at restaurant a short distance (one bridge) away, in a residential district. It was called Antica Besseta Trattoria. One of the things I loved about our hotel location was that San Croce is the most residential of all the districts. We got lost going to the restaurant even though we were carrying a detailed map, but people were very helpful. The restaurant was charming, with four tables outside (we chose one) and about the same number inside. We sat down and ordered wine when the restaurant suddenly was engulfed with the sound of very loud Italian T.V. Our waiter looked at us and explained that the apartment across from the restaurant housed a very deaf fisherman, who was usually asleep by this time. Repeated whistles through the window did not lower the volume but our waiter told us it should end shortly because the fisherman had to be up early. It did! At that point, a lovely couple from Milan sat down next to us, with their dog, Giotto. Giotto was lying down at their feet, but their table was next to the point where another narrow passageway met our narrow street. Every time someone walking their dog came down the passageway, Giotto launched himself at the dog and a full blown dogfight ensued, along with a long argument about whose dog started it, in Italian. There were may dogfights. The last and most romantic moment was when a couple at the other end of the passageway started a loud fight in Italian. It kept escalating in volume. I don't speak Italian, but even I know what the phrase, “Puta, Puta, Puta” means and it is not a word you'd say in front of your mother. At the end of the meal, the waiter, who was looking pretty frustrated about the lack of romantic atmosphere, handed me a rose. It's a dinner I'll never forget!

All Roads lead to Rome....
Off Rome early the next morning, a very long, 7 hr bus ride, with two stops along the way at an Italian Autogrill. Every time I go into one I am convinced that we never should have worried about Mussolini in WWII. There is no way the Italians are organized enough to win a war.