filtering across the legendary piazza.; stopping for a snack of
cicchetti (small sandwiches and cold cuts) and a plastic cup of
Prosecco on the steps of the San Trovaso canal; the Bellinis, juicy
and fortifying, whether at iconic Harry’s Bar or on the chicly
modern rooftop of Sagra, the poolside bar at the private-island
hideaway of the JW MARRIOTT VENICE RESORT & SPA—
and, of course, the sublime beauty of Venetian art itself, from the
vast trove of Italian Renaissance paintings, to the dazzling variety
of Murano glass, to the city’s world-class showcase of important
contemporary works.
The geography of the city is also on its side. True, Venice is a
veritable maze (“a strange, tricky town,” observed Hemingway),
yet it’s compact. One can walk it from end to end in under an
hour. From my graceful home base of the JW MARRIOTT,
where a gleaming water shuttle zipped with unerring frequency
between the “Island of Roses” and a private St. Mark’s pier, I
soon discovered that what I assumed was a hopelessly optimistic
itinerary was as good as met.
STAR AT TRACTIONS
As fate had it, my first full day in Venice was cloudy and peppered
with rain. I followed the standard guidebook advice of arriving early
to pass quickly through the line at St. Mark’s Basilica, the storied
Roman Catholic cathedral that is easily the most famous church and
foremost example of Italo-Byzantine architecture in a city renowned
for both. On the exterior, amid a riot of riches, I took in its pat-
terned marble slabs, which gleamed in the rain, the winged lion and
stone sculptures of the gable, and its notorious pilfered treasures: the
four tetrarchs, embracing near the base, and the bronze horses of
St. Mark. Inside, the bright marble mosaics, reflecting the Venetian
love of gold, glittered transfixingly even on the overcast day.
The ninth-century campanile, or bell tower, is as notable for its
history as its architecture: the tallest structure in Venice was not
only a popular site to publicly humiliate prisoners, who were caged
and hung from its top, but it collapsed in 1902 and was rebuilt
exactingly (even by the standards of Venetians, who are passionate
restorers). Visitors who make the trip to the top enjoy a sweeping
perspective of the lagoon impossible anywhere else.
A 20-minute queue later—mercifully sheltered from the now-pouring rain—I arrived at the Palazzo Ducale, known in English as
the Doge’s Palace. This massive Gothic building, with its instantly
recognizable checkered façade, was once the political and judicial
center of Venice and is now home to a museum of the Venetian
state and artists including Tintoretto, Tiziano and Veronese. The
winding route through the palace leads one steadily through
ever more ornate rooms featuring exquisite marble carvings and
frescoes, and in the hall of the great council, the world’s largest
oil painting (Tintoretto’s “Paradise”), until finally one reaches the
Bridge of Sighs, which connects the palace with the prison that
famously held Casanova. The sun had now come out, and it felt
surreal to cross the bridge and see the sparkling, transient view of
Venice before descending—that dazzling glimpse of beauty was
one many captives must have assumed would be their last.
Emerging from the prison as from a cinema in daylight, I
blinked in the sun. It was time for a coffee, and a stop at the celebrated Caffè Florian was in order. The prices here are famously
EYE WONDERS
Below: Tintoretto’s
paintings adorn
the ceiling and
walls of the
Scuola Grande
di San Rocco,
left. Modernist
treasures, right,
fill the Peggy
Guggenheim Collection. Opposite:
From the Palazzo
Ducale, one has a
priceless view of
St. Mark’s Basilica.
