Venice can get a pretty bad rap. It is hard to tap into “real life” under the layers of tourists. There are endless leather shops, blown glass shops, big glossy menus promoting copious tourist lunches in English. Ok, it is not an undiscovered gem. But, I don’t care. There is something else.
Venice is still beautiful and breathtaking and astonishing. It’s divided in six sestiere (neighborhoods). We stayed in the smallest and least touristy, called Santa Croce. Thanks again, Airbnb. We had a real campo (a Venetian term for piazza, or square) around the corner where actual Venetian kids played soccer. The closest bakery was taken over by a large group of old men whom you had to part like the Red Sea to get in the morning door. It was quiet and peaceful. It also took more effort to walk to the sites and major attractions. But, the whole family was happier for it. We also had some extraordinary meals that I would recommend seeking out reservations for (next time you are in town!) both at La Zucca and La Lanterna da Gas, both in the Santa Croce district.
Piazza San Marco, the famed piazza of Venice, is a space that no matter how many times you walk into it, can take your breath away a little bit. There is something about the geometric continuity of the long building flanking one side, juxtaposed against the insanely ornate 11th century basilica and ancient clock towers, that makes your mouth drop open. Yes, there are people from all over the world who seem to have come to the piazza just to feed the disgusting pigeons and let them climb all over their bodies. (Please, oh yuck, do not get me started on the pigeons). But, in the city of/by/under water, there is a sense of meta-wonder that can’t easily be described.
We took the kids to the famous glass-blowing island of Murano. Again, we know, we know, it is touristy. But, I haven’t seen the kids so enthralled by something in a long time, if ever. Noah, who is typically reticent in live shows, ran up to the front of the workshop to get a chance to try and blow glass himself. He blew so hard that he popped his glass bubble wide open. He proclaimed shortly after that he was going to be a glass blower when he grew up.
So, yes, there is a been-there, done-that feeling in the air. But, as I took a gondola ride down one of the quieter canals with my parents and my kids, I happily accept the fact that I will be here again. And again. But, I promise, I will NEVER feed those pigeons.