All the world's a page

Just prior to his wedding in Rome, my friend the groom announced that following their nuptials, he and his wife would accompany me on a jaunt to Venice. Scattered pink islands, littering a turquoise lagoon signalled our descent into Marco Polo airport. The captain congratulated the newlyweds, the newlyweds debated the plausibility of catching a water taxi directly from the airport. “Impossible” muttered my friend, his Italian wife smiled serenely.

And so it was we boarded the sleek, white and polished oak craft, wind in our hair, Sonny Crockett at the helm, and cruised into the Grand Canal. “You’ve surpassed yourself here old girl,” the doubter nodded in my direction, as we came alongside the private jetty of the Westin Europa & Regina. Stepping from the powerboat and into the 14th century, we checked our bags and ordered peach Bellini’s at Bar Tiepolo, taking our seats out on the terrace in time for the start of the Regatta.

Black gondolas and masked revellers drifted by, an amusing distraction, but I wasn’t watching. I was instead transfixed on the same sight that first captured my soul nine years before, the magnificent Santa Maria Della Salute, ‘Salute’ to the locals. 17th century weathered marble, atop thousand year old wooden stilts, smacked, literally, into the mud. As though someone has jettisoned St. Paul’s into the middle of the Thames.

The first time I found this hotel, I followed a wooden plaque on an ancient wall, down a series of alleys into a small courtyard. The foot entrance not nearly as grand as the boat launch, I was struck by the disparity of scruffy exterior and unimaginably opulent interior, like finding Druzy inside a Geode. The piano led me the rest of the way. I love this place. I’ve drunk beer here before dinner with nuts, had coffee in the morning with nuts. Ordered Martini’s and Cokes and Cognac’s, all with with nuts. The light and the music changes, the vista and snacks stay the same.

All Venice’s beauty is in its madness. It has you scratching your head and gaping in awe, every scene toys with your understanding of reality.
After dark Venice is noiseless, aside from gently lapping water. What other city in the world doesn’t have road traffic? What other city in the world doesn’t need fire hydrants? Where else in the world can you sit outside a palace, opposite a basilica, and watch three piece suites float by on boat decks? “Well, here we are, on your honeymoon,” I toasted the happy couple, and resumed my private musing.