Monday, June 19: On our third day in Venice, we got started about an hour later than we intended and we paid dearly for that. The earlier you go someplace in Venice, the fewer tourists you will encounter, or so we’d been told. But it was lovely to enjoy our Airbnb apartment with breakfast, coffee, and leisurely journal-writing.
The vaporetto line 3 to the island of Murano from the train station near our apartment was packed and though it had a few open windows, it was already like baking in an oven at 9:30 am.
Murano
In all, it was about a 20-minute boat ride to the island of Murano, famous for its glass industry. Though Venetians had worked in glass since the 10th century, the industry moved to Murano in the 13th century due to the fire hazards of glass-blowing. Trade secrets were meticulously guarded and any glass worker who left the island was guilty of treason and subject to assassination. Now glass artisans work in Murano’s workshops.
We strolled along the canal and popped into some glass shops. Mike was taking a picture of me in front of a wall of colorful glasses when the shopkeeper yelled at him several times, “Sir. No pictures!” It was too late; he’d already taken the photo.
We loved the pretty window boxes bursting with flowers; one even had glass flowers. I stopped at Prestige where I bought 3 pairs of Murano glass earrings. Later I bought an asymmetrical red/black flowered necklace with a Japanese aesthetic at Vetro-Mania. I would have loved to have bought some glassware but knew it would be a pain to pack and carry.
We stopped at Da Tanduo where we found and ate Venetian tapas called cicchetti for an bit of an early lunch snack, accompanied by a cappuccino.
We then had to stand in a long miserable line up against a building directly in the sun, waiting for the Line 12 vaporetto from Murano to Burano. It was another 33 minutes in the sweltering oven of a boat to Burano.
Burano
We disembarked and immediately headed in the opposite direction of the crowds to find the deserted areas with the brightly painted houses.
Burano was once famous for its handmade lace, but as the intricate lace went out of style in the lean post-WWII years, the industry declined. Now the brightly painted houses in Burano are a draw for photographers.
It was steamy but we wandered around taking photos. Finally we stopped at the slightly air-conditioned Ristorante Bar Sport Pizzeria, whose unimaginative name should have warned us of the bland and predictable food. We had Vongole Vapore (steamed mussels) and a super boring Insalatona Boscaiola (mix salad. mozzarella in cubes. mushrooms. artichokes. peppers). The mozzarella was missing and the salad was incredibly bland.
Strolling a bit more after lunch, we came across the 53m-tall Leaning Tower of Burano, built in 1714, part of the 16th century Chiesa di San Martino Vescovo complex. It is one of the most heavily leaning towers in Italy, showing a difference of around 1.8 meters from its base to its steeple.
We walked through the rest of the town and then we were herded like cattle onto the line 12 vaporetto back to Venice Fondamente Novo (40-50 minutes of pure misery). Sweat was pouring off of me and I thought I might never make it back to our Airbnb apartment. I desperately fanned myself with the pages I’d torn out of my guidebook in a vain attempt to cool off. I had been sick with an upper respiratory infection about two weeks before we left home but still had a lingering cough. By the end of this day, I felt a major setback, like I was getting sick all over again.
Venice
I was so happy to get off that boat, even though we were let off quite far from our apartment. We slowly made our way back to Santa Croce via Cannaregio. A police boat went zooming under a bridge. We were exhausted, but we found a little bar, Enobirroteca, patrolled by an elderly dog named Vicky. We sat in a shaded alley under umbrellas and had Spritz Venezia and cicchetti (codfish with zucchini flowers – so good and refreshing). It was the perfect respite to an otherwise miserably hot day.
We bought some tricolor pasta so Mike could cook dinner in our Airbnb. On our way, Mike found a shop called OVS, where he bought at shirt and pair of shorts. I bought a light blue peasant top with a white pattern and a white linen cropped sleeveless v-neck.
Back at the apartment, after a quick shower, I fell asleep under a comforter in our icy cold Airbnb (we could never get the remote to work to change the temperature). I felt awful and exhausted. My cough had gotten worse and I was utterly wiped out. I wondered if I might have walking pneumonia, a lung infection that causes airways to swell, the air sacs in lungs to fill with mucus and other fluids, a high fever and cough with mucus. A person with walking pneumonia may feel well enough to walk around and carry out daily tasks without realizing he or she may have pneumonia.
When I woke up, Mike served up a kind of tri-color Cacio di Pepe for dinner. Accompanied by wine of course.
I didn’t really feel like going out but I’d promised Mike we’d go have an after-dinner drink at a neighborhood bar. I had a refreshing mojito and he a double shot of tequila. We sat and watched the people walk by but the motley tourists weren’t as stylish as others we’d seen in other neighborhoods.
Steps: 12,393; Miles 5.26. Weather: High 84°, Low 68° (It felt a lot hotter than that!)
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