Picnic by a canal

The list of places to visit here is almost endless, even though we have a 3 hr driving limit for weekends. Hubby wants to visit Venice, we last visited 21 years ago whilst Inter-railing a concept both children found hard to believe and I remember Venice as hot, smelly and well you’ve seen a couple of canals and you get the picture. Hubby returned during a work trip to Mestre with 2 blokes, one recently divorced in January a few years ago and loved it. Found a locals trattoria, an empty San Marco piazza and loads of atmosphere. I am unconvinced but the history of Venice is good enough to put the children through a visit. We book for Carnival which although will be busy will at least detract from the gondola/canal /tourist trap and add another dimension to our visit. We are booked off island over night and I plan an alternative for the Sunday in case we feel we have done enough of Venice on the Saturday. I am told by my Magenta Mums that Venice is bella, but Carnevale will be pieno (full). I read that the police have been known to close the link road during Carnevale , great 2 small children, one of whom does not like masks (too much Dr Who) and half of the world on a island known to be sinking. This gets better.

Ever the Brit I pack a picnic for the weekend so we do not have to fork out for endless cokes and crisps at tourist rates, get my DK and Rough Guide books ready and after negioating the snow and fog that invaded Magenta on the Friday day and night we are off.

We arrive at our hotel after sat nav attempted to take us to Austria, re-pack the picnic that was practically eaten by 2 well fed children during the journey, buy the 24hr passes for the buses (land & water)- no discount for children (€72 in all), get the umbrella out as it is raining and jump on the bus to Venezia. I was under the impression, no idea how, that we would have to catch a bus to a railway station and then catch a train to the island. I think its because Alan Bennett mentioned catching the train to the island, but how this translated to being the only form of land transport to the island I am unsure. ‘How will we know when we get to the right stop?’ I query. ‘Well, its the end of the road, we’ll be on an island and there’ll be boats’ is the incredulous response from my husband. Not unreasonably it turns out.

Tickets are validated at 12.30. 24hrs and counting. I haven’t forgotten plan B.
Bus Stations are generally not the best view of a town, but in Venice the charm and difference of the town are immediately tangible. A beautiful half glass bridge spans the Grand canal, water taxis stream up and down and the masks are already on show on people not just stalls. Wheeled suitcases are being dragged from buses to water taxis regardless of the quality of the accommodation chosen or the age or quality of the tourist. Venice seems very democratic to its tourists as few take the gondola option for a trip to the hotel.

We pile onto a waterbus and head out back in the drizzle and the cold, but we are all excited by the water and the noise of the boat and slowly but noisily make our way along the Grand Canal to San Marco Piazzia. We spy a few costumes and a huge poster of Emma Watson on the side of a building. ‘Hermione’ screams my daughter. A positive for Venice somewhat unintentionally via Harry Potter.
San Marco is busy, there is a queue for the church, its raining and cold but there are enough people and tourists in costumes and masks to improve the view. The blue clock is instantly recognised as the clock broken by James Bond in one of the films, and the piazzia is equally known to my 11yr old boy. He is told after 10 minutes of James Bond scene recitals BASTA. The children are fascinated by the masks and my daughter wants to get one and wear one. It seems that already we are shopping when we should be sightseeing.
Our shopping trip nets a white & glittery mask for daughter who not 2 hours ago was stating her dislike for face coverings. My daughter has joined the carnival. We tick off San Marco’s and start to wander. 1 coffee stop (and a loo break) later we are back on the boats taking a trip to Murano for some glass blowing. We are urged to turn left as we disembark onto Murano and are herded to a glass blowing centre where because there are not enough tourists no glass blowing takes place. Feeling very uncharitably towards the island we continue our walk and it slowly reveals itself to be a quiet, almost serene island still with a local life full of the most beautiful glass and a co-op. We spy children on a scooter and skateboard which I feel surrounded by water must concentrate the mind somewhat and an ambulance on route to somewhere with its blue lights flashing. We retrace our boat steps back to Venice and wander slowly towards the Rialto Bridge. The streets are quiet, inhabitated only by locals completed with shopping trolleys laden with food, walking dogs and the occasional costume on route to the carnival. We peak inside one church which it seems is trying to be the coldest church in the world as we can see our breath as we walk around. Outside seems warm again. We turn a corner and are back in tourist land. Costumes and Masks are being worn from the elaborate full 17th Century Venetian lace and silk to home -made Nuns outfits. We spot a 4-5 year old girl dressed in a chicken outfit made entirely from clear plastic gloves used in the fruit & veg section of supermarkets. She looks fab. We are in the middle of a party & and only 1 of us has joined in so far.

By the time we reach Rialto Bridge I have a mask on. I am no longer a tourist, I have joined the carnival. We stop for dinner feeling we have earned our bottle of wine/coke and shortly after we resume boy has a mask & has also joined the party. Husband refuses to join in on the grounds he wears glasses but the rest of us know his real mask is his camera which rarely leaves his face at tourist destinations.
Back to San Marco for a quick night time stroll soaking up the atmosphere and watching the world go by and then a water and land bus back to the hotel. We are asleep in minutes. Plan B has been abandoned in favour of another day on Venice.
Thirteen hours later we are back on bus ready with our masks to re-join the party. Its the official start of the carnival at midday & costumes are everywhere on the bus. Feeling completely expert as we jump on the water bus we push our way straight to the back of the boat and I get a seat. The seat next to me has a small black Chanel bag on it and the coiffured fur coated lady it belongs to refuses to move it until her equally elegant friend joins her. They then chatter continuously completely ignoring the carnival and beauty around them, the sun is shining, the canals are full of small boats with masked venetians, Spiderman, British Police uniforms, packs of cards and clowns but the woes of Venice are being right in the 15 minute journey to San Marco. We arrive in San Marco just after midday. It is beyond packed and we don’t even try to get on the square. We don’t need to. The carnival is all around and we spend the next hour taking photos of the children with various more extravagant and elegant costumes. We reach the piazzia next to the Grand Canal and as the sun is shining and there is small bridge calling out to be sat on we stop and have lunch. The children haven't stopped smiling.

I love a picnic. I love the randomness of the locations you can stop. I love the views as you are sat eating, and I love that other nations don’t get it. So what if its February, it doesn’t have to be sunny, it normally isn’t even dry when we picnic and if I have to wrap a blanket (or spare coat) round my knees to keep warm whilst eating who cares. I’m sat in the fresh air with a walk completed and another one to look forward to with a view. Today our picnic was in the sun, by a canal, it was warm (in the sun) and the view was of the Venetian world walking past. What more could you want with a cheese roll, an apple and a packet of crisps (Actually a cafe nearby for a coffee & a pee would be good would make it perfect but it was close to perfection).
It was during the picnic that we broke the news to the children that the 24hr bus passes had run out and we were walking back to the station. Once the initial and inevitable confusion of ‘No not the hotel- where we got OFF THE BUS’ was over, maps were produced for them to navigate us through the streets and canals. Perfect navigation took us passed a geletaria with fabulous chocolate orange gelato and through streets littered with locals enjoying the sun. Santa Margarita had its own party just starting up as we left.
There’s still so much more to Venice that I now need to see, I haven’t stepped inside a gallery or a scuole or numerous churches but my son is determined to live in Venice when he’s older so I should have somewhere to stay.

Plan B is still on the list.

Buona Festa