Venice Interludes I

Our hotel, the otherwise perfect Ca' Pisani, didn't have reliable Wi-fi, and I was tired of fighting it so didn't blog for the first week. As recompense, I'll be filling in some details during my downtimes, sharing some stories and photos. Oh, and there was the whole Ira near-death experience too! Ira had the chills so bad he wasn't merely shaking, he was spasming, and we had to decide between water ambulancia or in-room doctor. The thought of being loaded by stretcher onto a boat and taken splashing through the canals of Venice daunted the seriously sick Ira, so we opted for the dottore. He came in, diagnosed the problem, predicted Ira would have a raging fever in two hours, prescribed some medicine, and was on his way. By the time I got back with the pills, Ira was sweating profusely, and though no less sick, on the quick mend. A day of recovery and Ira was back to his old self. Phew!

Our first real day together, we had a guided tour of a ridotto, which is a perfectly preserved specimen of a small gambling hall that was common in the 18th century in Venice. Our friends Alice and Billy from San Francisco joined us and our tour guide Elena for a small, intimate gathering. Ridotto means reduced, and these were small salons designed to encourage bad behavior, whether gambling or illicit affairs. Carnevale used to last for four months, the entire winter, and Venetians would enter these ridottos masked to disguise their identities. It was a time of mixing genres, rich and poor, male and female, everyone masked and ready for fun. As these dens proliferated, the Venetian authorities closed them down and opened THE Ridotto, which is considered the world's first official gambling hall.

The Alliance Francaise rents the rooms now, and they have kept it open for private tours. The decorations were fine and delicate, as befitting such frivolous usage. There were wonderful little touches, like a tile in the front parlor that you could remove to spy on people entering the risotto. We got to lift up the tile and watch the more pedestrian tourists walk unknowingly by on the walkway below. There was a small mezzanine shielded by heavy, ornate screens where musicians used to play to the frolicking locals (and also where someone could spy on the goings on). The tilework was ingenious, the decoration a whimsical mix of mirrors and flowers and light colors. Completely delightful.

And, just for the record, I beat Rick Steves to this by two days. (He still wins on the whole "tens of thousands of adoring fans who copy his advice and are probably the better for it, but I'll take what tiny victories I can.)

Our next stop on the guided tour was the Patriarch's banquet hall. It's separated from the Doge's Palace by St. Marks. Initially, it was connected by a private corridor that ran behind the cathedral, but Napoleon, when he conquered the Venetian states, closed that corridor and gave the hall to the Patriarch, the reigning bishop of Venice, as a sort of political power play. There was a large ceiling fresco, not Tiepolo unfortunately, but strong and notable for its large size.

We were the last ones to leave St. Marks because we were with Elena, so we took the opportunity to have a solo look at the marvelous bronze horses that once stood outside St. Marks. They are so alive after the centuries, a symbol of power and conquest. Originally of Greek origin, they were taken to Constantinople, seized by the Venetians, then penultimately taken as war booty by Napoleon back to Paris. It was the famed sculptor Canova who brokered their return back to St. Marks, else we might see them in the Louvre to this day. With the murky provenance, they might ultimately belong to Greece, but I'm happy they are so well tended in Venice. I think they like it there!