Finally, Venice!

Yeah. It's been two weeks. Time to finish this trip. I have other things to write about. I think I will just show the buffet o' stuff I saw. Most on the last day. All, very much worth it!

I spent Monday in Cannaregio & San Michele. Like Sunday, I went down the Riva degli Schiavoni to the Strada Nuova. It's where the locals go to shop. I was supposed to stop at the Ca' d/Oro, a museum, but on today's trip, I was taking the Vaporetti, and for reasons I will never understand, the one that I was on did not stop at Ca' d'Oro, but instead at San Stae, so I had to walk back. And from the streets, Ca' d'Oro doesnt' look like anything. It's from the Canal that is is striking. By the time I found it, I lost interest as the streets were getting full.

I wanted to spend time to two places today:

1. Campo Ghetto Nuovo, and
2. Rialto Bridge. Now technically, Rialto Bridge is in San Polo, and it has one of the largest markets in Venice.

Rialto Bridge [built 1588 to 1591] was the only bridge over the Grand Canal until the Accademia bridge was built in 1854. It spans 92 ft with a height of 25 ft. Rialto is a corruption of rivo alto, or upper bank. It's the area of the lagoon which was higher than elsewhere and less likely to flood. The main market has been on its present site since 1097. This area became a commercial hub. Relative to San Marco [the political heart], this was Wall Street. Throughout the Middle Ages, it controlled trade between western Europe and the East. This property came to an end in 1499 when news of Vasco da Gama's voyage around the Cape to India reached the Rialto, and the city merchants realised that the sea routes would spell the end of the Venetian overland monopoly to the East. Fifteen years later a fire reduced most of the area to ruins, except for the church of San Giacomo.

Mercato di Rialto ... wow! It has everything, fish, gold, fruits, vegetables, sausages, pasta, dried fruit, beans, cheese, tea, coffee, spices, etc.! And it was hot! And it was crowded! Of course, I did decide to go to Venice in July.

From the Rialto, I went to Il Ghetto. Ghetto is a Venetian word and all the sad ghettos in the world were named after this little island in Cannaregio. It was once the home of an iron foundry. Members of the Jewish community were permitted to live in Venice for not more than 15 years and to earn their livelihood through money-lending, second-hand trading and, later, as doctors and musicians. In 1516 they earned the right to live permanently in the city.

The iron foundry island was closed off from sunset till dawn by heavy gates across its access bridges. No members could leave, except for doctors visiting patients. Property rights were limited. The Ghetto became the goal of Jewish people escaping persecution. Overcrowding was a problem and the only way to go was up. Many of the buildings have as many as seven stories. After the Republic's fall in 1797, the Ghetto closed. Jewish Venetians gained citizenship in 1866.

The Campo del Ghetto Nuovo is the heart of the Ghetto, approached by three bridges.

In the Campo dei Mori, gets its name from the three 13th-century stone figures of Moors set in it buildings. They are thought to be the Mastelli brothers, Greek merchants from the south Greece.

Jesuit church of Santa Maria Assunta, commonly called the Gesuiti. The Jesuits were refused entry to Venice for 50 years during the 17th century. They commissioned this church in 1715.

I had a bellini in a cafe' outside of Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari. The Franciscan friary was founded in 1250. This Gothic church dates from the 14th and 15th centuries.

Wells and water - every Venetian campo has a well, dating from the time before fresh water was piped from the mainland by an aqueduct. Below each well-head there is a 16-foot deep, sand-filled cistern with an impermeable lining. The brick-lined well-shaft stands at its centre, connected by tiny drainage holes to the sand. As rainwater drains into the cistern from cracks in the paving, it is filtered by the sand and passes into the shaft ready to be drawn up.

Madonna dell'Orto is a Gothic church known as "Tintoretto's church". The great artist [1518-94] lived near by and is buried there. The church was originally dedicated to St. Christopher, the patron saint of travellers, in the hope that he would keep an eye on the gondoliers who ran the ferry service to the northern islands from a nearby jetty. He was demoted when a miraculous statue of the Madonna and Child was moved here from a neighbouring orto [vegetable garden].

I did end up getting stuck in a big rain storm, complete with sleet. I hid in one of the vaporetti stops. Other than that, I figured out how to get myself to the airport for 2.50 Euros; only 10% of what it cost to get to my hotel the first night! I am done! Time to move on to writing about new adventures. G'night!

Venice, the next day

The problem with having the freedom to write long entries is having the time to finish them!

Alright, it was Sunday morning and time to hit the streets again before the crowds. Today, I was going to focus on Castello [another ward]. I headed back to the Riva delgi Schiavoni. It's a broad quayside where you can eat or buy tacky souvenirs, dodge the fake-handbag-selling-dudes, and run across a few panhandlers. Mostly though, you get on or off the vaporetto and dodge tourists!

There was a statue that I had taken pictures of the day before that I learned was of Bartolomeo Colleoni [1400-76]. He was a successful mercenary that bequeathed the State a large legacy on the condition that a statue of him was erected in front of St. Mark's. The State wanted the money, but was unwilling to commemorate an outsider in the Piazza. They commissioned a statue and he very much looks like a war hero. And then just to show that they have a sense of humor, there are pear-shaped objects on Colleoni's coat of arms that refer to a play on his name, which sounds very similar to the word coglioni ... testicles!

On the Riva delgi Schiavoni, there is the Hotel Danieli. It is an exclusive hotel where rooms are furnished with antiques, paved in marble and have Fortuny fabrics draped on the walls. Dickens, Proust, George Sand, Balzac and Wagner were all once residents.

Speaking of distinguished places, I forgot to say that I had stopped at Harry's Bar on Saturday. It's one of the most famous in Venice, and I would add, expensive. It has no terrace, service with an attitude, and a dress code for men [cover your knees]. I had a Bellini, a mix of peach juice and sparkling prosecco [wine]. It was about 3 oz. and cost 15 Euros. Two days later I had one in a cafe' in a campo outside of a Basilica and it was 8 oz. and cost 2.50 Euros! Ernest Hemingway used to spend a lot of time here, Harry's, that is, not outside the Basilica.

I headed East to the Via Giuseppe Garibaldi, a wide 19th-century street which is the heart of Castello for the locals. It's full of shops market stalls, and there's a park! It was the first "green" I had seen really. There was a park, the Giardini Publlici. There was a long, tree-lined street that led to some gardens created by Napoleon. The trees were particularly useful as an afternoon storm rolled through, complete with hail. I stood underneath the canopy of the trees and stayed virtually dry.

I also found this leaning tower. There were two distinct bell towers in Venice in addition to the Campanile, and they were both leaning. This one [on the right] is the church of San Giorgio degli Greci, Greek Orthodox. Greeks lived in Venice from the 11th century.

The one on the left is San Pietro. The church dates from 1557 and was the first seat of Patriarch of Venice. It has housed a bishop since the eighth century and did so until 1807, when the official seat was moved to San Marco.

San Pietro was near the boatyards. It was a very scenic walk. As I walked through the streets and along the canals, I almost felt like I was an intruder. You can hear conversations from inside the houses; see people gazing out of their windows; and really get a feel for what it's like to live here. When walking through here, I took off my camera and hid it in my bag and tried not to stand out so much as a tourist. I also found the place where they maintain and build the gondolas.

At the end of the day, I went back to the Canale della Guidecca on the Zattere [the long fondamente that borders the canal, created in 1519 and named after rafts that were once moored there] but to a different restaurant. This time, other Americans were about. I continue to gain an appreciation for the term, "ugly American". Remember I said before that most restaurants have an American menu to avoid ugly confrontations? There were a number of tables sat at the same time, all Americans, but apparently not together. A table of five women were next to me, and as they settled in, ordered their drinks and reviewed the menu, I was happy to just listen in on their conversation and try to figure out where they were from, and why they were traveling together. As the main waiter came back to table to take their appetizer order, one of the women suddenly stood up and told the waiter he was being rude. He [and I] were startled, after all, I had been eves-dropping. Anyway, she was adamant that he was being rude because they were thirsty and had not yet received their drinks and the table next to them had theirs and she intended to leave. As she was shouting this, a junior-wait-staff member, female, arrived with the tray of drinks and looked scared out of her apron! I think the waiter handled himself and the irate woman beautifully. They didn't leave, but I don't think they really ever understood or appreciated that the waiter was a professional. He wasn't a kid putting himself through school. He had very few tables to attend, and as a customer, the table is yours for the night. You are free to enjoy conversation, the food, the scenery, and you won't be rushed out because the wait-staff needs to turn that tables once or twice that evening. He was a polite man that brought them lemon cello at the end of their meal as an apology. I observed the irate woman drinking hers ... and two of her dinner-mates'!