Eastern Mediterranean Tour - Italy- Venice & Milan
Day 21 Tuesday 1st January 2013 Venice (still Beatrice)
The train ride went smoothly and quickly, I think, since I
was sleeping I do not remember very much. Once in Venice we got out of the
train station and were hit by freezing air and by the fact that the street just
stopped and there were boats with big Taxi signs on the grand canal instead of
cars on roads. We went onto the boat-bus and got our first glimpse of Venice-
and it is amazing, picture perfect! And freezing! We walked to our hotel, which
is really nice and warm, and put on a few more layers and went back out. Venice
is full of really small streets and bridges which to a tourist like me, comes
across as a very beautiful labyrinth.
We walked onwards and onwards while the sun
went down and must have gone past at least 10 shops selling masks- which I have
to admit look very nice. Once it got dark we went to a pizzeria and had supper,
since all the supermarkets were closed for the 1st and so we had to
eat out. The pizzeria was run by two very friendly Chinese ladies and the food
was tasty. Then (proudly lead parts of the way by me) we made our way through
passages and over bridges back to the hotel. We relaxed pleasantly and I had a
lovely shower, got into my PJs and a feeling of dread over came me. I had
forgotten my bag (which I very much love) , which also had my passport in it,
in the restaurant! So Daddy and I got dressed with all our layers and dashed
back over bridges, through passages to the pizzeria. There the ladies
recognised us and brought us my bag without us having to ask, we were all
relieved and on our way home Daddy and I had a celebratory drink. The hot
chocolate was amazing and so after writing this and doing some research on
Athens I went to sleep.
Day 22 Wednesday 2nd January 2013 Venice (Cathy)
Hotel Locande Poste is wonderfully cosy, the bathroom has
under-floor heating and the room has active radiators and is decorated in red
cream and gold, the colours of Venice. We all slept very well and were roused
from our dreams as the breakfast was delivered on a tea trolley to our room.
Who had thought that eight o’clock was a good time? Oh yes – us. The breakfast
was as Chris had feared, continental style, although for my purposes it was
very nice, hot coffee, warm croissant and jam. The lack of ham and cheese will
be remedied at the supermarket this afternoon!
In such a warm room it was hard to imagine the cold outside,
but one glance out of the window confirmed that it was cold and rainy. We have
to be a bit careful about our window since it is close to the Rialto bridge and
the occasional tourist is inspired to photograph the outside of our hotel,
hopefully not with the added bonus of half dressed, or undressed tourist, or
worse!
Once well kitted out we set off for the bridge and St Mark’s
square. Even in the rain Venice is such a joy to be in, every corner presents
one with a new beautiful view, every little canal is crossed by small bridges
that just beg to be photographed. The Rialto bridge is covered with graffiti
but only on the shutters of the shops, even the vandals in Venice show respect
for the ancient and venerable stonework. Gondoliers are already out on the
water, their gondolas full of umbrella wielding tourists. Who would choose to
ride in a gondola in this weather? Beatrice says maybe it is their last day in
Venice so they have no choice. A fashion model is posing by the bridge in a red
dress, her red nose will need serious photo-shopping, she is freezing and
trying to look alluring at the same time, a tall order! The rubbish boats are out and about, today
must be collection day in this part of Venice; the kids are amused to see the
deliveries and collections being done by boat rather than lorry. We see the
Coca-Cola delivery boat at work among others.
We follow the winding alleys and passageways to the Piazza
San Marco, which mercifully is not flooded although it was only a month or so
ago. They have not been as quick at tidying up after New Year here as they were
in Florence and they have still not completely taken down some of the
structures. We walk a bit along the edge of the lagoon, passing the Bridge of Sighs
and various other palazzos, churches and memorials. Gondolas are parked up at
the moorings, not much doing yet, or really likely today. Alex and Beatrice
examine the shops and stalls selling souvenirs, Alex finds a Venice pin to add
to his collection. I buy Beatrice some mittens, her hands are freezing and she
cannot use her camera with frozen fingers. That way we also get a plastic bag
to put over her camera.
The queue for San Marco is long but fast moving since there can
be no charge for entering a church. As we go in, the interior of the church
seems to be rather gloomier that I remember but as we stand at the entrance
someone switches on the lights and the full golden glory of the interior is
revealed. The gold mosaics reflect light in particles and so the effects is a
kind of broken gleam punctuated by byzantine figures of saints and biblical
scenes. The floor is also patterned in endless variation.
The altarpiece is
just plain showing off, gold and jewels set around icons of various holy
persons. more a demonstration of wealth and power that anything to inspire a
spiritual experience. The church on the other hand really hits the spot,
despite the shuffle of rain drenched tourists around the aisles. As we emerge
from the church the two clockwork figures on the bell tower are striking twelve
by hammering the bell. You can see the dents where it has been bashed in the
same place for the past four centuries or so.
We walk around the piazza, admiring Napoleon’s effort to
impose his grandiose ideas on the chaos of the rest of Venice but I must admit
it’s the chaos that appeals to me; it probably resonates more with my way of
looking at the world that Napoleonic order. We browse some more shops, lots of
carnival masks, some made in the traditional way from leather or canvas others
pure polystyrene, lots of Murano glass, some really beautiful and wonderfully
designed, others more run of the mill, the kids spot some glass elephants, zero
survival chance in the suitcase.
Our next stop is the Hard Rock Café (surprise, surprise) for
Alex’ pin purchase. While we are there we have coffee and hot chocolate and
some chips to warm up a bit (next to a Jimi Hendricks scarf and a Pete
Entwistle Guitar, ah! memories of my youth!). I find that my weatherproof
layers are wonderfully insulating but my face becomes terribly cold, the kids
too, and as a consequence we all glow redly when we get into the warm; only
Chris seems to be spared. The waitress at the Hard Rock is really helpful and
shows us where to find three supermarkets so that we can provision ourselves
for supper. She too had started off here as a tourist and agrees that unless
you know the score, Venice can be horribly expensive. Thanks waitress, we never
knew your name!
We thought that it
would be nice to see the music museum, I have been telling the kids all about
Vivaldi being Venetian for part of his life, Alex, with his great dislike for
violins is not very impressed. There is a Vivaldi festival going on but Alex
will not be persuaded to any recital. The music museum is very fascinating and
shows musical instruments that have been played in Venice over the centuries,
including (yes!) violins. The shapes have changed quite drastically over the
years, the lutes and guitars were particularly interesting and Beatrice found a
collection of old clarinets. A nice museum, small and housed in an old church,
well worth the visit.
Next we crossed the Ponte de l’Accademia to the side of the
Guggenheim museum. On the way here we pass a gallery selling wood carvings with
a difference, wooden shirts and hats, wooden boots, wooden shorts, all carved
with precision and with the creases and folds exactly right; we all boil with
desire. Loris Marazzi is the name of the artist, he has collected some new fans
in Namibia. We also pass a shop selling hand painted and printed silks that are
sooooo beautiful! I have been craving a visit to the Guggenheim but entrance is
expensive, 14 Euros, and the kids and Chris decide that they do not need to
come. They rather go off exploring the supermarket nearby whose location we
were given at the Hard Rock.
I fork out my entrance fee and enter the world of Peggy
Guggenheim, a wealthy woman, married to Max Ernst and advised by him and his
friends what artworks to buy. At one point in her life, as the second world war
was breaking out, she was buying one work a day, probably at knock down prices!
So as the first shots of the war were being fired in Europe, Peggy was busy
visiting the studios of all of the famous and soon to be famous modernist
artists of the time. The collection is housed in the palazzo where she used to
live; a rather eccentric half finished palazzo that only got as far as being
one storey high (issues with Renaissance planning permission). The collection is
pretty awe inspiring and here in Venice is only a small selection of what she
bought. The art work is interspersed with photographs of how she lived with the
pieces. Everyone is there and I move from room to room recognising all of the
familiar styles and subjects, it’s like meeting up with old acquaintances! I
spent a delightful time there, not finding any surprises but enjoying new
interpretations by the familiar; a friendly experience. In another section of
the museum across the garden where Peggy and her pets are buried, is a
retrospective of an Italian modernist named Capogrossi whose work is new to me.
I loved this exhibition, you can see his influences but his interpretations are
completely his own, very enjoyable. While I am mooching around in the sculpture
garden I get a message from Beatrice, they are waiting outside laden with the
spoils of their trip for provisions. Somehow I have kept them waiting – oops!
We make one more visit, after all we are right next to Santa
Maria della Salute, the baroque church that faces one across the lagoon from Piazza
San Marco. It was built by the city in thanks for the deliverance of Venice
from The Plague and apparently rests on one million wooden piles. We go inside,
another fabulous floor, another huge dome, it has eight sides, six chapels and
many art works by such as Titian and Tintoretto and was the life’s labour of
its architect. This is quite rare for us since most of the renaissance churches
we have seen are produced by many people over very many years and adapted and
changed as they go.
By this time we have had enough of the rain and cold and the
light is starting to fade so we make our way back over the bridges. We buy some
bread from a small grocer’s after getting directions at the fish market, marvel
at a horse butchery (Chris wants to buy some sausage -the kids are anti) and return
to the hotel to settle down for an evening of salad, diary writing and telly.
We can get English, German and Italian channels in our room and Alex and
Beatrice have You Tube as well on the computer so there is no problem with
electronic entertainment. I am going to settle down with my kindle – ha! also
electronic!
Day 23 Thursday 3rd January 2013 Venice (Alex)
Thankfully after waking up and looking out of the window we
discovered that it was a bright sunny morning and that the fish market was in
full swing, good thing we didn’t open the windows. This was after awaking with
a start, again, because of room service bringing us our breakfast. Why my
parents want to be up so early is a riddle to me, well it was the same as the
previous day, so nothing exciting in other words. This morning was continued by
us all getting ready for the day and then it was off into the Labyrinth that is
Venice. First we investigated the fish market which is located right outside
our hotel. Surprisingly it didn’t even smell bad at all, because all the fish
was fresh and some, the prawns, still alive. We amused ourselves with Beatrice
being squeamish about some of the produce. For those who like fish, especially
those who love sushi or sashimi this was a heaven, the salmon one could have
eaten just like that.
Then we made our way to the Train station, because we had to
check which train we would be taking the following day. So in the lead were
Beatrice and I and quite far behind were my parents, which was quite annoying,
because we had to wait for ages to make sure they were following the correct
route. The way to the train station is far too up and down for us to schlep our
suitcases tomorrow, because my father nor Beatrice or I were very willing to
have to carry my mother’s bag, which is a) heavy and b) hurts to carry. Thus we
finally arrived at the station, found the train for tomorrow and then decided
we would be taking the boat to the station tomorrow so we bought a 24h ticket
for the bus (boat).
We thus had the leisure of being able to take the boat
everywhere today, woohoo!
So onto the boat on the line 1 to Lido, our goal, get the
front seats on the boat and time to take the really cliché photos of Venice.
The route was really nice, going past all the historical sites we visited yesterday, in the dry. It is
interesting to see a river being used like a road, such as delivery, taxi,
refrigerated deliveries and private transport. Today the Gondoliers’ business
was really booming and their boats were filled with groups varying from cute
couples to a family of 7, in the last case there were even sometimes two men
rowing. Because of the weather, the Gondoliers even had their proper striped
uniform with straw hats on, which made my mother happy to see. Since I just mentioned my mother I would like
to mention that today she mentioned that she rather liked yesterday’s Venice in
rain more than Venice in sun. (?) 
Then we reached Lido, another island near Venice, here the
tourists in summer go, because the island has beaches. Here there are even cars
and most of the houses are far younger than anything you can find in Venice. We
then walked along the shopping street, here my father spotted that all the
people were drinking a orange drink, with an olive and orange wedge inside. He
really really wanted one, so we asked two elderly men what it was and they said
it was a “spritzer con prosecco”, so we thus sat at the nearest table and my
parents had a spritzer each and Beatrice and I had an ice cream each. It was a
very enjoyable morning I must say, then came the question though what to do
with the afternoon . . . We decided to go to the island called Murano, a island
famous for its glass arts, we hoped here to see some real glass blowing. Thus
we took the boat again, because for some strange reason nobody wanted to take
the plunge and swim, can’t imagine why. 
Once at on the next island we had a little row about where
to go and what to see, but after a bit of raising our voices and in the end
finding a compromise, we found a café to have a distress hot chocolate and
bathroom break. Then after everyone had relaxed a bit more we were off to find
a glass blower.
Both my parents have been to Murano before and kept on saying
how wonderful it was and how much it had changed and that we would definitely
find a glass blowing demonstration.
We went into many a shop and asked if they had a glass
blowing demonstration and many said no, but we finally did find one:
We entered the shop and were greeted with a whole room
filled with glass jewellery, vases, animal, beads, chandeliers etc.We then had
pay 5 Euro each to see the demonstration then were asked to mooch around a bit
before the next demonstration would start. It finally starts and us along with
about 8 more people go into the workshop, not very teeming with action, all our
eyes are drawn to the furnace which was glowing red hot. A man stands before
looking amused at all our faces which have the look of expectation on them.
Then we are told that he would be using two techniques; blowing and pulling.
The man fetches a red glowing clump of molten glass out of the furnace and
rolls it in old broken coloured glass and then starts blowing, the glass
expands like a soap bubble, then back into the furnace and then out again; he
does it so fast and in no time a fancy bowl is before our eyes. To demonstrate
just how hot the glass still was, the man chucked a piece of paper in the bowl
and it ignited instantly.
Then he gets more glass and with just a couple of trained pinches, pulls, tugs and twists here and there a pretty glass rearing stallion is in front of our eyes. We were all just flabbergasted and amazed and gave a hearty applause of course. Then he asked if anyone would like a go to blow glass, a eager little boy was the fastest to respond and gave it a try, it was just like blowing up a balloon. The little boy didn’t have the lung capacity as the professional so he had to give it a couple of hard puffs and then a glass bubble was in front of us, already solidified and all. The boy looked so happy with himself, then the professional smashed the bubble on to the floor to show how fragile it was, one would have to be there to see the boy’s facial expression, it was priceless. Not to be out done by a little boy I of course had to give it a go and with one hard blow I had bubble nearly twice the size of the little boy’s. Mine too though was smashed. That concluded our trip to the glass factory.
We then had to get onto a very over filled boat back to
Venice and from here we walked to our hotel via Rialto Bridge again, buying
souvenirs and presents on the way.
In the hotel we had dinner and then did similar thing to the
previous evening. We’ve already received our breakfast for tomorrow, for our
early start.
Day 24: Friday 4th
January 2013: Milan (Christof)
As we had to catch the train at 07:50, and the vaporetto to
get there on time at 07:10, we had to get up rather early. Cathy had by mistake
set the alarm for an hour too early (again), so we were up very early. The fish
market under our window (and where we had to walk past to the vaporetto) was
already in full swing. Early morning in the almost dark and most lights still
on, on the canal, add another dimension to Venice … chilly, must be close to
zero. Good bye Venice! We had a good time here.
At the train station in good time, we find out that there
will be a 15 mins delay, but we are under no pressure today and we just have to
brave the cold on platform 4. The train is a bit less fancy … no wifi … we’re
used to better by now. 2½ hrs later,
with the snow-capped pre-Alps to the north, we arrive in Milan.
The bombastic
railway station, built under Mussolini, has not changed much according to Cathy
who worked here about 35 years ago. We check our luggage into day storage and
then walk into the centre of town. Stop at a café along the way, where Cathy
thinks she used to drink coffee at, but it has changed a lot in the years gone
by. The current ‘owner’ has only been there for 8 months.
The city centre
surpasses my expectations, of this otherwise non-descript huge industrial
sprawling city: the galleria (first ever shopping mall in the world?) is
magnificent. The kids and Cathy all stood on the balls of the bull mosaic on the floor of the galleria and turned around to rub for good luck. The Duomo is close by and I guess, almost as big as the Cologne
cathedral, it was started somewhere in the 14th century, but took many 100s of years more to complete. The best part is the view from the
roof … we climb the 245, or so, steps to be richly rewarded by flying
buttresses, spires and a fantastic view of the city.
Then it’s a brisk
40 min walk back to the railway station and onto the bus to the airport, some
40 km away. The bus has wifi on board! As we are in the queue to check in about
45 mins before the 2 hrs before the flight, poor Alex can finally relax … he
really suffers a bad affliction of being scared of being late. But Aegean
Airways works to rule and we have to stand in the queue for a full 45 mins
before they start checking people in. To the dismay of my family I still finish
the half bottle of wine from the previous night while in the queue, before we
go though the final security check (where you are not even allowed to take
bottled water through).
Inside we have
another 1½ hrs to kill before boarding. No passport control, because flying
from Italy to Greece is an internal Europe (Schengen countries) flight. We sit
at a nice table in an expensive café, but for some inexplicable reason they
only charge half price to the menu rates. Who are we to enquire or complain! In
a corner I notice a smokers’ cage, a small glass enclosure filled with
desperate persons sucking madly at lit cigarettes … obviously with an efficient
extractor fan to the outside.
Our 2 hr flight
is uneventful, fortunately I manage to get an empty seat instead of being
squeezed between Alex at the window and a woman at the aisle. Otherwise the
plane is chock-a-block.
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