To the victor go the spoils!

Croissants, churches and cash-machines

8.30am
Dining Room, Ca' Zanardi

Our first Venetian morning, we awake early to the sounds of boats being loaded with produce in the canal beneath our window.  Freshly showered, we make our way downstairs for breakfast.  We're cheerily greeted by Andrea who explains that the rain during the night has made the terrace too wet to sit for breakfast.  Apologising, he offers us a table in the huge dining room which is sumptuous even if its beauty is slightly faded and there's a spot or two of bodgy repair work.  Like the adjoining ballroom, baroque plasterwork is everywhere, a gorgeous chandelier, frescos on the walls and ceilings, and the eye can't help but constantly fall upon little reminders of how this room must have looked in its hey-day: candlelight glinting from the gilded wall sconces and sparkling in the crystal pendants hanging from the chandelier and glasses on the tables, the intricate tiled floor, even the wrought iron grilles over the wall-vents show that the flowers and delicate swirls once wore the colours of spring rather than the dull ivory that they appear to be at first glance.

The dining room at Ca' Zanardi
(Image courtesy tripadvisor)

We sit down to a continental breakfast of freshly baked croissants and real Italian coffee made by Andrea, who suggests a number of places to visit, circling them on our map.  He says that, of course, we must visit the Piazza San Marco and the Basilica  that it is most famous for (besides the pidgeons) but, without a hint of irony, makes a point that the basilica is not actually Venetian - or even Italian! - given that it is Byzantine in design and adornment.  He's not entirely correct (thanks Wikipedia!) but it's another reminder - like the sign at the airport criticising the 'Roman' government - of just how parochial Italians are of their own regions, often referring to themselves as Venetian, or Roman, etc rather than Italian.

Sufficiently stuffed and caffiened, we gather up our map (with recommended spots circled by Andrea) and make our way out into the morning sunshine ready to explore.  Even at this hour, it's clear that it's going to be a warm day and the early humidity quickly brings a sheen to our skin which was until recently hiding from the Adelaide winter wind and rain.  Our good friend, Linda, is joining us tomorrow - it really is quite exciting to make plans that end in "see you in Venice!" - so we decide to do the churches and galleries today.

We pop into a small (by Italian standards) church, Santa Maria dei Miracoli, which, depite seeming relatively modest from outside, is a riot of marble and mahogany within.  While still jam-packed full of all the usual christian iconography you'd expect, this little church has a 'human-ness' to it that the grander and gaudier monoliths usually lack.  It actually feels the way that I think it should - that is, like it was built for people to go about their quiet prayers rather than as an audacious (and frankly, rather sickening) flaunting of the church's obscene wealth.

The interior of Santa Maria dei Miracoli
(Image courtesy Wikipedia under creative commons license)

Having said that, this is no dusty pauper's hovel.  Marvelling at the incredible detail and craftmanship in every single square-foot, I notice there are tombs on the floor dating back to the 15th and 16th centuries and I'm once again struck by the history of this country.  Just to put that in perspective, that's the approximate period of the Rennaissance which gave us Michelangelo and da Vinci, Botticelli and Boccacio, the Basilica of St Peter's, and countless others.  It never ceases to affect me.

Stepping out of the cool dimness of the church into the thick heat of the midday sun, sweat instantly prickles our skin and we seek out refreshment from one of the many street stalls that, by their increasing frequency, tell us we're not far from the Rialto.  Downing a small peach and white wine fizzy drink, we decide to postpone our visit to one of the most famous bridges in Italy until tomorrow.  Checking our map, we decide to follow the Grand Canal (Cannalasso to the locals) around the lower half of its distinctive s-bend curves to the Museo di Ca' Rezzonico, an 18th century palace which now houses one of the most important art collections in all of Venice.

After three quarters of an hour walking in the heat, we are happy to finally enter the cool shade of the museum's ticketing office.  We ask for two tickets as I hand over my Visa debit card.

Traveller's tip #1:  don't rely on eftpos for anything overseas.

As the girl behind the counter shakes her head at us and hands back my card, Holly checks her bag for her card.  Oh oh, we've left it back at the room.

Traveller's tip #2:  if you ignore tip #1, at least have a second card with you connected to different account.

I check my wallet hoping that we've got enough cash.  Hmmm, it seems that the cost of the fizzy peach drink we had earlier is the only difference between having enough cash to cover the entry price and a weary trek out back into the heat to find an ATM.

Traveller's tip #3:  make sure you have sufficient cash for the day's activities before setting out.

Backtracking to the nearest piazza, we ask a waitress at one of the cafés for directions to the nearest ATM.  She doesn't say anything but distractedly waves her hand vaguely towards the square which, if I've understood her correctly, seems to indicate that the ATM is thankfully just on the other side of the square we're in.  After another five or so minutes fruitlessly searching, I ask another, not-so-busy, waiter for directions.  He indicates a glass door several metres away and we're only a few steps from the air-conditioned embrace of the vestibule of the holy cash machine.

Relief at finally finding the ATM is short-lived however when the truculent machine refuses to provide the sole bounty it was created for.  It doesn't even bother with trying to confuse us with its perfect Italian, rather it leaves no room for confusion or argument and states in the clearest English, "INSUFFICIENT FUNDS!"  Despite the air-conditioning, the stinging sweat of frustration instantly pebbles both our foreheads.

Resigned to a long and hot walk home, we leave the self-satisfied ATM on weary legs.  We don't get far before, like Hansel and Gretel finding the Gingerbread cottage in the woods, we serendipitously come upon an internet café and, like Gretel, it's Holly who suggests we follow the breadcrumbs inside.  This chance find lifts our spirits and I surprise myself as I ask in suddenly faultless Italian if we could purchase 15 minutes of internet time.  The lanky, bearded chap behind the counter gestures at the first computer and I quickly log-in to my online banking account.  Transfer completed, we leave with a spring in our step and don't feel the heat outside quite so keenly anymore.

We make it back to the ticket office where I confidently hand over my card to the same girl behind the thick glass.  My smile soon slides off my face as she looks up apologetically, again shaking her head.  No, wait!  Something must be wrong.  I ask her to try the card again.  She tries and then silently slides it back to me under the glass and I know there's no point trying again.  The heat returns with a vengeance.

Feeling even worse than before, we again leave the museum having got no farther than the ticket booth in the entrance way.  Holly suggests we make one final, hopeful attack upon the ATM before writing-off the rest of the day.  Not wanting to give in to defeat, I reluctantly agree and we trepidly retrace our steps to the same smug machine.

How it felt to battle the heat and the ATM

It seems to sneer at me as I insert my card and I'm sure I hear it snigger as I enter my PIN.  In seemingly mocking tones, it asks how much I would like to withdraw.  I'm not a superstitious person but with fingers crossed, I boldly instruct it to give me 120 euros hoping that my doubt and fear is not obvious to the vile creature.  Oh wonder of wonders!  All glory be to internet banking, I have bested the ATM-beast!  Crestfallen, it does as instructed and dispenses the cash.  I have defeated the miserly dragon and am now the undisputed master of wallet and coin!

Sweet victory brings relief and a refreshing breeze to our uncreased brows as I justly snatch our reward from the maw of the black-hearted monster.  We stride back to the museum knowing that nothing can thwart our entry now that we brandish the currency of entry proudly in our fists.  Our fiscal prowess now acknowledged, tickets are exchanged for cash and we check our bags at the cloak room as we finally enter the museum.

We spend the next two or three hours moving from fresco-adorned room to gilt-and-gem-encrusted room, over three sprawling floors.  The palace itself is amazing both for its contents and its views over the Grand Canal which is unsurprising given that the son of the household was later elected Pope Clement XIII.  The first two floors are remarkable for the richness of the statues, paintings and furniture right down to an entire, fully-furnished in near-original condition, the lady of the palace's private bedchamber, complete with painted wooden wall-panels, inlaid floor and hidden dressing-room.  A six-foot glass cabinet next to the bed proudly displays the silver and ivory toiletry contents of the lady's wedding chest.  The entire third floor is given over to paintings by prominent Venetian and Italian artists of the 18th century, the number of which would fill a large part of the entire Adelaide Art Gallery.

One small part of Ca' Rezzonico
(Image courtesy venicewithaguide)

After a long day in the field, we leave the museum-palace and begin our walk home under twilight skies.  Our path takes us right between the Rialto and San Marco's so we decide to see what all the fuss is about, which I'll describe in the next post.

We finally find ourselves back in the familiar and comforting square of our neighbourhood where we go to dinner at the restaurant recommended to us by Andrea.  Tony, the owner of Trattoria Storica, shows us to a table where we order a bottle of prosecco and risotto marinara for two.  The light prosecco is a perfect compliment to the risotto which is full of fresh, local seafood and perhaps the best we've ever had.