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Travel Guide

Travel Guide: Venice and Burano

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My family travelled to Italy when I was 16, and it was there that I fully formed the fantasy that drove my search for a university, a fantasy that never quite materialized. We spent several days in Venice on that trip and, nearly twenty years later, I was excited to return with my partner for his first visit.

We were rather more strategic with our planning of Venice than with the rest of our summer travels, which was to our benefit. We made as much use of the Venezia Unica city tourist website as possible, thus saving time and money, as well as guaranteeing a parking spot in a very convenient garage. We had a few changes of clothes in backpacks and easily managed to pick up gelato for the walk from the car to our blissfully air-conditioned hotel.

After a shower and changing into appropriate clothing, we walked the four minutes through twisting alleyways to reach Basilica San Marco, where we had timed tickets and could skip the line. I was pleased to see that everyone had followed the dress code, which isn’t always the case in places with posted dress codes. I hadn’t been inside on my first trip to Venice; according to a story my dad tells, the family voted in favour of gelato instead. I don’t remember that, but it sounds right.

This time, my partner and I made multiple rounds of the Basilica interior, stunned by the plethora of gold, the intricate mosaic covering every surface of the floor, the saints celebrated on the walls. We tried to match the Latin names to what we knew in German and English, often coming up rather short. I have always been fascinated with the lengths to which people go to honour that which they wish to honour.

After changing clothes again (Venice, much like living in Singapore, required breaks in air conditioning and yet another shower before pursuing the next activity), we headed to the meeting point for our walking tour, always my favourite way to see a city. The tour took us through all six of Venice’s districts with a focus on the northern part where the locals live. As the tour guide explained, her job was to take us to places we wouldn’t find on our own. She told us about the history of Venice and about Venetian culture today, which we really enjoyed. I had taken a course on the history of Venice in university and I was surprised at both what I remembered and what I had forgotten.

We walked over to the Rialto Bridge that evening and took in the view of the Grand Canal . . .

. . . and returned in the morning to visit the Rialto Market, a favourite activity whenever possible. Tourist kitsch aside, the primary ware was seafood, which should come as no surprise.

From there, we made our way leisurely through little alleys and side streets until we reached Piazza San Marco.

We walked along the water to confirm vaporetto (water bus) times for the transport passes we had purchased in advance . . .

. . . before returning to Piazza San Marco for our timed entry to the Doge’s Palace, again avoiding the long line.

Much like Basilica San Marco, the Doge’s Palace is grand. The wealth that the former Republic of Venice had enjoyed, and the power that came with it, was awesome in the original sense of the word. The gold, the art, and the sheer size spoke volumes.

Afterwards, ready to escape the crowds for a while, we took a vaporetto for the 45-minute trip over to Burano, one of the neighbouring islands. Being on the water gave us some relief from the heat, but I would not recommend July as the time to visit Venice.

Burano is tiny, whimsical, and famous for lace-making, evidence of which could be seen in nearly all shops. What we were there to see, however, were the brightly-coloured houses that practically glowed against the blue of the sea and sky. We walked around, patronized a local café, and took photo after photo of this storybook come to life.

Upon returning to Venice and after some much-needed time to cool off, we braved the heat and humidity one last time to enjoy our final evening. Since Venice was designed to be seen from the water, our tour guide had said, many of the oldest building façades seen from the street side were actually the back. A gondola ride gave us a perspective of the city as it was meant to be seen. The sun was beginning to set and the city glowed.

As we rode, we asked the gondolier questions about how one gets into the business (sons are taught by fathers), how a route is chosen (the routes are what they are and do not change), and who owns the gondola (the family). The gondoliers called to each other in Venetian, the language of Venice that our Italian tour guide told us she had learned to understand since moving to Venice years ago but could not speak. Venice is Italy, but mostly, Venice is Venice.

A friend wrote to us that we were in the city of love, though we were pretty sure that designation belonged to Paris. At any rate, we held hands as we watched the sun set over the bridges.

Since we had day passes for the vaporetto, we hopped on board once again to ride nearly the whole length of the Grand Canal, a cruise for the price of a bus ride. It was dark when we disembarked this time.

There is definitely something magical about Venice, something that lends itself well to the mysteries in novels and stories I loved as a kid. The cemetery is an island of its own; the city glows when it grows dark with the lights reflecting on the water; the language is half a secret; mailing addresses function differently here in order to function at all; there are so many twists and turns that we followed a map every time we tried to get anywhere, consistently unable to orient ourselves.

The following morning, we made our way slowly back to the car, managing to cross yet another piazza where we hadn’t been before. We loved our time in Venice but were ready to get away from throngs of people and back into nature. Next stop: Slovenia.

Travel Guide

Travel Guide: Cortina d’Ampezzo and Treviso

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My partner and I arrived in Cortina d’Ampezzo in Italy’s Veneto region ready for a break. We were in the heart of the Dolomites and though the mountains are part of the Alps, they felt completely different. The Dolomites tower. They impose. They are sharp and majestic and magnificent, vast in scale and scope. And they could be seen from everywhere.

We strolled through Cortina, enjoying the cool mountain air and admiring the architecture of the South Tyrol region. The historic and regional connection to where we had recently been in Austria was plain to see. Mountain regions are like that.

As climbers, Cortina was a draw for us because of its central location in the Dolomites and its proximity to Tre Cime di Lavaredo, or Drei Zinnen, or Three Peaks. We had planned to climb the smallest one and picked up the last remaining pieces of gear shortly after arrival, but the weather, our physical health after our multi-day trek, and the logistics proved more than we were ready for. But we are now prepared for next time!

Instead, we took a bus up to Rifugio Auronzo, the first of the guesthouses around Tre Cime. From there, we walked the easy route around the mountains, enjoying 10 kilometers of beautiful views and rock begging to be explored.

The temperature was much cooler than we had expected and we enjoyed walking with just a day pack. It was suddenly so easy.

We watched the clouds move as we rounded Tre Cime, waiting for the peaks to come into view. And they did.

As we walked, we looked for the route that we had researched and we watched climbers on other routes. This is not an adventure to be taken lightly and we were more than comfortable with our decision not to pursue a climb. It was enough to be among these stone giants.

The following day I walked alone through the woods near where we were staying. We were at the top of a hill, basically as far up as we could go, just outside of town. The usual feeling of quiet came over me as I followed the marked trail through trees. It’s a different perspective of nature than being in the mountains, and I welcomed the change.

Finally, the weather held up enough to allow us to get on some rocks. We’d brought multiple guidebooks with us and found a crag not too far away. It was typical Italian sport climbing, at least as far as my experience goes: Lots of protection, routes helpfully labelled, benches placed in convenient locations, lots of people, grading generally easier than what we have at home. But every crag has its quirks, and this was no exception. For instance, we warmed up on a climb with a grade that would have been much too hard elsewhere, and then we ended up abandoning a route with a much easier grade, leaving behind a green carabiner. Maybe you’ve seen it? Finally, a prominent sign expressly forbade individuals from pooping. All in a day’s climb, I guess.

After the fresh mountain air of Cortina d’Ampezzo, we were not fully prepared for the heat and humidity that greeted us the following day in Treviso, also in the Veneto. The landscape grew flatter as we drove and the mountains remained far in the distance. The air was thick, hazy, and dusty, and as we made our way into the old town, it made sense that everyone was home for siesta. We were nearly the only ones moving about in a city of closed shops and restaurants, precisely in the hottest hours of the afternoon, and the heat and humidity were punishing.

Unable to fathom anything else, we had our first gelato since arriving in Italy. Thus reinvigorated, we wandered through all of the city in just a few hours, taking in grand historic buildings . . .

. . . charming side streets and passageways . . .

. . . the rivers around which Treviso is built . . .

. . . and various stylistic elements (wrought iron, painted buildings, satellite dishes and antennae rising from tiled rooftops) that are, for me, typically Italian.

While seeing what there was to see in the old town, we stopped into multiple supermarkets, enjoying the opportunity to look at what was on offer and at what prices. A peek into another’s day-to-day, leading to reflection on my own, is an activity of which I never tire when I’m somewhere else. And importantly, supermarkets are air-conditioned.

As it would turn out, this heat was only a warm-up for our next stop: Venice.

Travel Guide

Travel Guide: Quedlinburg

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A very old, very dear friend came to visit, which is a rare occurrence in my life. We’ve met up in multiple countries over the last decade, based equally on where I’m living and where he’s travelling for work. This visit was particularly special because I was able to introduce my partner and show off where I plan to spend the next long while; it’s never been like that before.

In keeping with our mutual enjoyment of adventure, the three of us headed off Saturday morning for a night in Quedlinburg in the neighbouring state of Sachsen-Anhalt. The town is located in the Harz, which I’d heard about but never seen, and was an incredibly important medieval trading hub. It is also charmingly known for gatherings of witches. There are signs of former wealth all over town today, as evidenced by the castle, cathedral, and multiple churches.

I’ve been in many European cities of many sizes, but I have never seen anything quite like this. The half-timbered houses and other buildings were intricately designed, the brickwork in patterns . . .

. . . the lines of the buildings were not quite straight . . .

. . . and some of the homes were built for much smaller people than exist today. We noticed that a great many homes in the old town are now holiday apartments , seemingly owned by local people but a sign that, like many other places, the town no longer has the kind of life that it once did.

The multiple squares, for example, were a sure sign of the commerce and wealth that existed here . . .

. . . and alleys of varying sizes, including some so tiny that only one person fit through at a time, were a nod to the town’s over 1,000-year-old history.

As always, we climbed to the highest points, this time at the residential castle and the Münzenberg, an old mint, and looked down at the town and valley below.

I made a wish as I tossed a coin into the helpfully labelled wishing well . . .

. . . and delighted in signs of spring as two people I love laughed together.

We didn’t see any witches, but passed multiple shops with tarot cards and crystals; we spent the evening at a local brewery and tasted the offerings; we took shelter in driving rain, basked in the sun when it came out, and pulled our jackets tightly against the winter temperatures that had come to visit again.

Quedlinburg was a walk back through time, the delight of which was a treat to experience and a real pleasure to share. It didn’t take us more than our two half-days there to walk up every street and down every alley, and we laughed at our ongoing surprise as the windy streets twisted and turned. As we reflected, an invading army wouldn’t have stood a chance.