A Trombonists Guide to Europe (well... a small part of it)
For those of you who know me, you’ll know that I recently
went on holiday to Italy; specifically Venice and Pescheira Del Garda. If you
are one of those who know me, you’ll also be aware that I did not stop talking
about this holiday in the weeks prior to going, and in the weeks since coming
back. So for those of you reading who haven’t heard about my holiday yet fear
not! I am about to embark on a literary reflection of my time in Italy.
Part 1
Venice
Thursday 23
June 2016
We are currently sat on board Easy Jet Flight EZY5263
awaiting our take off time. It is British Summer time, and although it’s only 8:30am,
it is already raining quite heavily. We have been up since 4am having had to
reschedule our flights less than 24 hours previously, but the holiday has got
off to a good start. Travel to the airport had been smooth, as one would expect
at such an unearthly hour, and the airport breakfast of smoked salmon and
scrambled eggs (Steph had, surprisingly, consumed a rather large full English)
had been delicious and most welcome. A mad dash to the gate had ensued, and now,
rather warm, we are arranging ourselves for the flight to Venice ‘Marco Polo’
Airport. We have plenty of time to do this as, due to bad weather and an Air
Traffic Control strike in France (the reason our initial flight had been
cancelled), we do not have a take-off time and are presently going nowhere.
Time passes and the rain gets heavier; the low grey cloud summing up the mood
of those currently on board. Eventually a tug rumbles past and we feel the
metallic clunk of it attaching to the front of the plane. This is it, Venice
here we come!
I don’t fly regularly, and it is with a sense of
trepidation I grip tightly to the arms of my seat as the Airbus A-319
accelerates down the runway and up into the swirling grey mass above. As we
level out, I relax and look around. Steph, a frequent flyer, is perfectly at
ease and busying herself with taking photographs out of the window, of the Kent
countryside now appearing below through gaps in the cloud. Eventually I pluck up the courage and swap
seats, peering out as Germany dashes past below, and the ground slowly rises to
meet The Alps now coming into view. We soar over the glittering white peaks,
and begin our descent down towards Italy, and Marco Polo Airport. The clouds
are now a distant memory and the sun is glittering off the water as we make our
final approach. A small bump and we’re down safely. As we are sat right next to
the door, I take far too much enjoyment at being the first out of the plane, but am beaten into second
onto the bus that takes us to Bag Collection. The conveyor is painted like a
roulette wheel and has me idly wondering whose luggage we’ll get?
We exit the front door of the airport and the wall of heat hits us.
We stand out in the crowd, as we are wearing jeans in what we later discover to
be 34 degree heat; fortunately the bus into Venice has air conditioning. This
relief from the heat is short lived and as we are deposited at Piazzale Roma,
we immediately take to the shade under the Ponte Della Constituzione and work
out how to get to our hotel. A friendly American tourist, overhearing our
conversation, provides us with a map, and a rough direction to aim. The closer
we get, the more of the City Steph recognises from her previous trip and we
find the Hotel du Pantalon with relative ease. The heat of midday is unbearable
so for a time, we relax in the air conditioned room and make good use of the
free Wi-Fi.
We emerge later that evening, refreshed and eager to
set off exploring. We make for Piazza San Marco, one of the main attractions of
Venice. The architecture was simply breath-taking; the level of detail that had
been put into the design of the square and the Basilica was simply stunning. We
move around and down to the edge of the Grand Canal, where we sit and watch The
Gondoliers ply their trade. Heading back through the Piazza and taking care to avoid the
thousands of pigeons, we walk through the back streets of San Marco and Dorsoduro.
Every street we go down is different and beautiful in its own way. On occasion
we find ourselves on the banks of the canal with no option but to turn around,
but this is no problem. As we head back to the hotel I sample my first taste of
‘authentic’ Italian pizza. I am not disappointed and it is a great way to
finish a very good day.
Friday 24th
June 2016
Having stocked up on bottles of water for the day,
we set off into the heat of Venice, eager to continue exploring this beautiful
city. We head back up the way we had come the previous afternoon, to Piazzale
Roma and the island of Santa Croce. From here we cross over the Ponte Della
Constituzione and stroll along the Grand Canal. There is a myriad of tourist
shops and market stalls wherever you look in Venice, on the whole selling
variations of the same items and yet we feel compelled to look in every shop
and stall we pass. We find Murano Glass to be particularly beautiful and
interesting and we both resolve to buy some before we leave for Lake Garda. We
press on towards the Ponte di Rialto, the most famous bridge in Venice, still
taking in the sights, sounds and atmosphere of this remarkable place. Upon
finding the Rialto, we encounter our first (and only) disappointment of this
trip. Due to renovations the bridge is
boarded up. We are still able to walk across it, but the view of and from the
bridge has been reduced to a photo, superimposed onto the protective netting.
Heading back towards Santa Lucia station, we stop at the Ristorante da Nino for some
more ‘authentic’ Italian pizza. Following a gentle walk back to the hotel, a Siesta and more UK television
online, we make our way back out for dinner. Steph has chosen tonight’s
restaurant, and has gone with Venice’s Hard Rock Café. This is in
large part due to the quality of the food, but also to add to her list of ‘Hard
Rock’s’ she has visited which includes New York, Hollywood, Boston, San Francisco
and Honolulu. We arrive and are informed that there is a half an hour wait for
a table, so we settle outside on the edge of the Bacino Orselo Gondola station,
and watch these beautiful water craft come and go, as the Gondoliers laugh and
joke with each other. Presently our table comes free and as we are shown inside
I experience my first ‘Hard Rock’ atmosphere. There is classic rock songs
playing in the background, guitars, shirts, drumsticks and other memorabilia on
the walls, the staff look like a throwback to the 1970’s and yet I immediately
relax and order a truly fantastic meal. Full to the gills and feeling at ease
with the world, we exit into the darkening streets of Venice and find our way
back to the Pantalon through another series of side roads, each different to
the last.
Saturday 25th
June 2016
Automated ticket machines are a wonderful thing; as
long as there is someone there to fix them when the go wrong. We are currently
walking to Rialto ‘C’ Vaporetto Stop, as the machine at Ca’ D’Oro stop wanted us to pay
our €40 for the day passes in coins. Clearly this is not going to happen, so we
board the exceptionally crowded vessel by the Ponte di Rialto instead. We
squeeze through the gaps in the crowd and hover near the seating area waiting
to pounce if a chair becomes free. Eventually a family group disembark and
Steph and I get seats next to each other. This is something I’ve been looking
forward to, and I sit and take in the sights as the diesel engine of the water
bus bangs and clanks its way along the Grand Canal. The large thump, and waves
crashing against the side of the boat tell us we have arrived at Arsenale, so
fighting our way through once more, we head off the boat and down towards the
exhibition centre. If you take an architect on holiday to the location of one
of the most famous architecture festivals in the world, you cannot be surprised
at the inevitable outcome. So with an open mind I follow her into “La Biennale
di Venezia Architettura”. I find to be a fascinating experience. Far from
showing off different types of design (admittedly there is a reasonable amount
of this) the exhibition focuses on sustainable living, towns of the future, and
growth and development that will benefit both mankind and the environment. While Steph
explores some of the more ‘technical’ exhibits, I sit down in a bean bag to
watch a documentary about a housing development in Japan. The comfort of this
bag, the dark exhibition hall and the air conditioned climate soon has me on
the verge of sleep. Before I can drift off completely, a tap on my shoulder
rouses me, and Steph, after helping me off the floor, sets off for the second
half of the exhibition. 
We exit the former warehouse, and head through into
La Biennale Giardini – a more permanent facility with pavilions for countries
across the world to present their exhibits. As we enter the Australian
pavilion, the sound of splashing water meets my ears. We round the corner and
are in a large public paddling pool. With no encouragement needed I immediately
take off my shoes and socks and have me feet placed in the cold refreshing
water. We stay where we are for some time, both loathed to leave this welcome
relief from the heat. Yet, time is marching on, so reluctantly we leave the
pool and make our way back to the Vaporetto stop. We decide to go
back on a different route, and whilst we start on the Grand Canal, the boat soon
branches off down the wider canal towards Giudecca. Over the tops of the
buildings a large white shape begins to appear and the closer we get, the more
the enormous Cruise liner looms over the rooves of Venice. This particular
side is less picturesque than the Grand Canal, and seems to be used more by the
local population going about their business. Eventually we moor up just past
the cruise terminal, and we walk around to The Piazzale Roma and catch the Vaporetto
back down to the Piazza San Marco. We are fortunate that the boat arrives empty
and we manage to get good seats right at the back. By now we are past the heat
of the day, and we relax into our seats as we slowly make our way back down the
canal. From San Marco we start walking back to our hotel and debate where we
shall eat tonight. In the end I suggest a rather pleasant looking restaurant
just across the street from the hotel. We are seated outside, and for the first
time there is a slight chill in the air; the skies which had been cloudless for
the last two days were suddenly beginning to become grey. We begin to eat and in
the distance, thunder rumbles. The waiter stands looking into the sky, and
appears to be watching, and counting the thunder claps. He heads back inside to
grab side panels, and in a moment has turned the four separate parasols into
one large marquee. Not a moment too soon; as we are tucking into our dessert,
the heavens open. Being from Britain I have seen my fair share of rain, but
this is of a scale and power I have never witnessed. For five minutes water
descends from the heavens, sending tourists scattering for cover, yet as
suddenly as it started, the rain stops. The thunder and lightning continues
into the night streaking across the sky in bright flashes: a spectacular end to
our last full day in Venice.
Sunday 26th
June 2016
I open the shutters of our hotel room to see that,
despite the electrical storm of last night, the day is as bright and calm as
the preceding three. With heavy hearts we pack our suitcases and, after handing
in our key, leave the bags in the lobby until later. This afternoon we will be
catching the train from Santa Lucia Station to Pescheira Del
Garda where we will be spending the next 6 days with my family. Before we do
however we have a mission to attempt: buying train tickets in an Italian
railway station. As we enter the huge 18 platform station, I realise that our
first issue will be to simply find the ticket booth. There are no less than three, and
you can only buy certain tickets in certain booths; we aim for the biggest and hope
for the best. It seems that everyone else around us is taking a number from a
machine (something I remember Clarks shoe shop having when I was a child) and
waiting for the number to appear on a screen. There seems to be no logical
pattern to how these numbers are appearing, and we find ourselves talking to
two American girls who have missed their train. They had been standing waiting
for a lot longer than us, yet our number was called up before them. The
gentleman behind the desk was most helpful and soon we are leaving the station
with two single tickets in our pockets.
We collect our luggage from the hotel and return to
the station, both with a heavy heart that we are leaving, and with excitement
at the next few days to come. We step onto the Frecciarossa 500 train (heading to Milan), say a
final farewell to one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and head on to
our next adventure.
Excellent writing, I felt like I could have been reading a travel novel.
ReplyDeleteThank you :)
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