February 2007
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John Berendt revels in the theatrical setting of his latest book – a labyrinth of palace-lined canals and narrow streets in which everyone plays a role
'Everyone in Venice is acting,' a member of an old Venetian family once told me. 'We play roles, and the roles change. When we approach a bridge, we don’t see it as just another set of steps to climb to get from one side of a canal to the other. To us, bridges are transitions and, as we go over them, our role changes. We go from one reality... to another.'
Having lived in Venice, off and on, for nine years, I can vouch for its theatricality. I know what Lord Byron meant when he said, 'Venice is the greenest isle of my imagination.' Venice is a stimulant to the creative energies. Even a tourist can get into the act, in his mind at least. He can imagine that he isn’t one of the 14 million tourists who cram into Venice each year, but rather one of the 62,000 full-time residents.
If you Google the word 'Venice' with the words 'stage set', you will come up with an astonishing 25,600 references. It’s easy to see why: the centuries-old buildings in Venice look like painted scenery from an opera.
Step away from the crowded tourist corridor between the train station and St Mark’s Square, and you’ll find yourself in tranquil neighbourhoods with cooking smells and music and household conversations streaming through open windows. Wander around the residential districts of Cannaregio, Santa Croce, Castello and the Giudecca. These are unspoiled areas where the Venetian mood and character survive.
Getting lost is the best way to experience the city’s ethereal qualities. Soon enough, you will become entangled in a labyrinth of narrow, all but empty streets. After several wrong turns, you may begin to fear that Venice has abducted you, but it’s all part of the city’s charm and quite harmless. Venice is, after all, a tiny place, barely twice the size of Central Park (or about four times the area of Hyde Park) – an unthreatening playground.
The most useful guide for navigating in Venice is one the Venetians use: Calli, Campielli e Canali. With this little booklet, you will be able to find the most cleverly hidden, out-of-the-way place. It’s by no means a tourist map, but a highly detailed city plan. I also recommend a lively and fascinating tour led by Professor Toni Sepeda (+39 04 34 749 145; tosepeda@libero.it).
Stay out of shops that cater to tourists. Places that sell masks and cheap trinkets are replacing neighbourhood greengrocers, butchers and bakers, and are to be shunned. There is one exception: the mask emporium Mondonovo on Dorsoduro (+39 041 5287344; mondonovomaschere.it). It’s owned by the sculptor Guerrino Lovato, whose masks helped revive Venice Carnival in the 1970s.
Eat where the workers eat. At Dalla Marisa on Cannaregio (+39 041 720 211), you can count on having the same delicious food that the boisterous gondoliers at the next table are eating, because that’s all Marisa has to offer.
Drop in at a wine bar or bacaro and have a glass of prosecco or a spritz. You will be surrounded by Venetians speaking Italian or the Venetian dialect. It won’t matter if you can’t understand them; you’ll be able to experience the convivial atmosphere. Here you will be standing, not sitting – that’s the custom. Try Al Bottegon on Dorsoduro (+39 041 523 0034) and Cantina Do Mori on San Polo (+39 041 522 5401).
Most Venetians have their own idea about which of the dozens of gelaterias serve the best ice cream. However, those at or near the top of the list usually include: Millefoglie da Tarcisio, behind the Frari church (San Polo 3034); Gelati da Nico, on the Zattere (Dorsoduro 922); and Algiubagiò on Fondamente Nuove (Cannaregio 5039).
Forget your notions about riding in a gondola. Venice is among the most expensive cities in Europe, and one of its pricier offerings is a 40-minute gondola ride for upwards of €75 (£50.52). As far as Venetians are concerned, gondolas have become an amusement-park ride for tourists. They never ride them, but they take the utilitarian traghetti, gondolas that shuttle across the Grand Canal and are remarkably cheap. Most passengers on such crossings are Venetians, not tourists, and they ride standing up. It’s a bit of a balancing act, but it’s part of the role you’re playing.
The easiest way of imagining that you live in Venice is to ride on a vaporetto, or waterbus, because all Venetians do it, from the most unassuming to the haughtiest. And, whatever else you do, be sure to take the No 1 vaporetto the entire length of the Grand Canal. It’s the greatest ride in the world and a bargain at €5 (£3.37). You will glide past 250 palaces standing cornice-to-cornice at the water’s edge, their façades representing 500 years of architectural history. Take that ride at night, when the interiors are lit, and you will catch a tantalising glimpse of the private Venice of today. If that doesn’t kindle the imagination, nothing will.
John Berendt’s latest book, The City of Falling Angels, is out now (Sceptre, £7.99).
