THURSDAY 21st July 2005 | ![]() |
Beep-a-ti-beep, beep-a-ti-beep. Our tiny travel alarm woke us up at 8am with a cruel piercing shrill. I had set it just in case we overslept and missed breakfast. I had read that the buffet breakfast at this hotel was actually worth getting out of bed for! An hour later we were sitting outside on Riva degli Schiavoni enjoying the best breakfast we've had in Italy. The coffee was strong and tasty, and a cornetto (croissant) and an apple pastry accompanied it. They had fresh fruit salad, cereals, sliced meats, fruit juices, but my favourite choice was the excellent selection of fresh cheeses; a large mound of Ricotta, a large block of Taleggio, and a bowlful of floating balls of Buffalo Mozzarella. You could help yourself, and I certainly did! I was like a mouse on the moon; in a cheesy paradise. I shoved them into a bread rolls and stuffed my face! |
The interior wasn't anything striking but several of the artwork on the walls were noteworthy. The Last Supper by Tintoretto is considered to be the best. [The image on the right is from the excellent Web Gallery of Art] Another Venetian painter called Carpaccio contributed several other wall murals. |
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We had read many recommendations of a gelateria here called Nico's but we were unfortunately still full from breakfast to sample the gelato. |
We continued to stroll along countless narrow streets and canals vaguely gravitating towards the Peggy Guggenheim Collection. I had heard that there was a Jackson Pollock exhibition at the Guggenheim which was very much of interest to me. So much so that we postponed our visit to the Galleria D'Accademia until we had first seen the Pollock exhibition. I'm glad we did as it did not disappoint me. |
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There's just something about the chaos in some of those paintings that is exciting, although it has been proven that a chimpanzee could have painted exactly the same thing! The permanent collection continued in the kitchen, the dining room or the dressing room and housed several other artists such as Rothko, Dali, Kandinsky, Miro, Duchamp, and Picasso, all heavyweights of Cubism, Surrealism and Abstract Expressionism no less! There were many by Max Ernst who whilst being a renowned artist in his own right was also married to Peggy Guggenheim. |
We left Palazzo Venier dei Leoni and walked across the Nasher sculpture garden to the New Wing where the 'No Limits, Just Edges' exhibition was housed. It concentrated on Pollock's work on paper including several sketches and various experimental combinations of paint type and paper types. The one that caught the attention was 'Gray and Red' which by no coincidence was chosen for the cover of the book that accompanied the exhibition. |
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We stood halfway once again to admire that timeless view. The walk back through Campo Stefano, and down the designer streets of Calle Larga XXII Marzo, and Salizda San Moise, passing the church, was really tiresome as they were incredibly busy. When we entered the Piazza San Marco we were on our last legs and so we decided that we would just have recuperate in the notoriously expensive Cafe Florian. |
By 4pm we were back in our hotel room enjoying a well earned siesta. We had reserved a table at Osteria La Zucca for 8:30pm this evening so shortly after 6pm we made our move up the Grand Canal on the numero uno vaporetto. It wasn't so busy this evening so we sat down inside and admired the ornate palazzo's that passed our window. |
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We loitered for a while before moving on to find the Taverna da Baffo in a small square called Campo Sant'Agostin. This was a great little bar whose sole purpose was to facilitate drinking. Perfect! There didn't seem to be too many of these in Venice. It is apparently named after an 18th century poet, although the term poet is probably used loosely because he was renowned for writing saucy little ditties about the rounded arse of the female form, amongst other parts of her anatomy! Being a close friend of Casanova was his other claim to fame. It was a great place to people watch. I noticed that most of the men were drinking this red liquid, with an olive keeping it company. |
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After a few glasses of Prosecco I asked the barmaid "Can I have one of what he's drinking?" and pointed to this guy who was propped up at the bar. She explained that it was called a spritz, and I could have a sweet or a bitter version. I've since learned that it was Campari in all but the name on the label. So there I was, drinking Campari, with a sunken olive, and with an extended little finger, wearing an italian designer sweater that retailed at €150 (although I only paid €17) and actually feeling quite at home in doing so! I wasn't too sure whether I should have been concerned or not? Well, it's not very rock'n roll is it? We left the cosy pub to make our way back to the restaurant by 8:30pm. When we stepped outside we were shocked that the weather had taken a severe turn for the worse as a violent thunderstorm was cracking its fury directly above us. Lightning flashed and the entire Adriatic sea seemed to be pouring down, soaking us to our skins. Julie was petrified. We arrived at La Zucca looking like drowned rats but at least in good spirits as we were looking forward to our evening meal. Things did not go according to plan however ..... With rain drops dripping off my nose onto their reservations book a staff member shrugged his shoulders and said, "Sorry, we have no one in your name". "But I phoned yesterday." I protested "She said I had a beautiful name!" He flicked a few pages in case we had been written into the wrong day but 'Colin' was nowhere to be seen. He scratched his head, and shrugged again, but didn't offer us a table. He couldn't, as they were full. With raindrops dripping down the curve of my back I was starting to get a bit annoyed with his lack of assistance. I huffed and made other "pissed off" noises but he just stood there flicking pages and shrugging a lot. I just had enough and blurted out "I write on the internet you know" waving my finger at him, " and the whole world will read about your stupidity" "Wait, wait ..." he said and started flicking more frantically than before "You can share a table at 9pm" I wasn't in the mood to compromise nor give them my custom but before I told him to shove his "sharing" suggestion up his shrugging little backside Julie escorted me off the premises and we sat outside in the pouring rain to consider his offer. On reflection it was quite obvious what had happened. All the customers they had dining al fresco didn't want to be eating al dampo so they had to be relocated inside when the thunderstorm suddenly appeared. Our reservation must have been removed by corrector fluid as there was plenty of the white paint covering the reservation book. |
As we walked back through Campo San Giacamo dell'Orio on our way back to La Zucca I just had to stop at a small take away pizzeria where I ate a slice of an aubergine pizza like I was experiencing it for the first time. The groans of ecstasy telegraphing my approval. Once again, like lunch, it's the best spent €1.80 of the vacation! |
I squelched my way upstairs as Julie retrieved our room key from reception. Time for bed Zebedee. |
Next day >>> |
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