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Report 616: Venice - Winter 2004/2005

By Boleskine from New Jersey, Winter 2005

Page 23 of 36: Lunedi 3 Gennaio 2005

I cannot believe it when we awaken to yet another sunny day; this has been the best weather we have ever had in winter, sunny almost every day and yet not very cold at all. The gray clouds keep the warmth close to the ground and usually when it is sunny, it has been chilly, but not this year. After our espresso and kiefers, fresh ones since after three days of holiday the bakeries are again producing fresh goods, we pick up an IHT and go home to lap up the news. We are accustomed to getting two daily papers plus having CNN and several other news channels at our disposal so the Friday to Monday drought seems endless to us.

We manage to have an early lunch, and after a phone call to Cantinone Storico to make dinner reservations, I phone the American Hotel. Before leaving home, we had made tentative arrangements to meet another AOLer in Venice, but I had given her our apartment phone, never suspecting it had been disconnected. I know her hotel, the date she arrived and the day she is departing and her first name, but I have forgotten to include her second name in the notes I copied and brought with me, and I do not trust my memory. The man who answers the phone at the American is incredibly gracious and actually ferrets the right people out with these tidbits of information. He agrees o give them the message to call us on our cell phone with the number I provide. We make one more phone call to our son, Tom, to affirm that he had a good trip and arrived home safely from Colombia where he had gone to spend Christmas with his fiancée and her family.

We resist the temptation to take an after lunch nap and walk down to the vaporetto stop for the ride to San Marco. It is a frustrating ride for me; my back is hurting too much for me to do more than lean against a small portion of the luggage rack. The sun is at an angle from which it makes incredibly beautiful reflections in the water; the colors of the buildings are turning the water pink, cream, gold, red and bright blue, but I cannot take a single photo because my sight lines are blocked by people standing along the rail. A few are taking photos; a few are admiring the view and while I selfishly feel those with cameras should be given front row priority, my sensible realistic side has to admit others have as much right to admire the view with their eyes as I do with my lens. The ones who bug me are those who stand with their backs against the rail paying no attention whatsoever to the wonders we are passing and yet preventing anyone else from getting up close and personal with the canal scenes.

We are heading for the Museo Correr and the Turner in Venice exhibit. The buildings of the Procuratie Nuove, in which the museum is located, are on the South side of the Piazza San Marco and were planned by Sansovino to continue his design for the Libreria Vecchia which faces the Doge's Palace. They were begun by Vincenzo Scamozzi in 1582-86 and were completed by Baldassare Longhena around 1640. They served as a residence for the Procurators of the Venetian Republic, who were the three highest office holders after the Doge. They were the only offices of the Republic except for the Doge who were elected for life. They began as the guardians of the Basilica, but by the 13th century they administered sums of money granted to San Marco by the different noble families.

In 1920 the royal family presented the Procuratie Nuove to the city of Venice, and since 1923 they have been the home of the Museo Correr, the city museum of art and history. The basis for the collection was left to the city by Teodoro Correr in 1830, and was originally on display in his house. The collection was moved to its present quarters in 1922.

We climb the magnificent marble staircase and ask for two tickets to the Turner exhibit. We have visited the permanent collection many times, but today we want to devote our energies to the special show of Turner and Venice.

Martin asks for 2 tickets and then asks if there is a reduction for people over 65. The man at the cash register says "Si - Uno ridotto." Martin says "Due, per piacere" and the man looks at me in astonishment. " Due?" he asks incredulously. "Si," I say "Ho sessante-sette anni." He reels back a step or two in total shock, claps his hand to his forehead and blows me a kiss, "Due ridotti" he says. At this point I m ready to follow him anywhere.

The Turner exhibit is on the second floor and as soon as we show the woman inside the museum our tickets she offers us the ascensore. At one time I would have almost indignantly insisted on taking the stairs; now I am pathetically grateful. She leads us through the museum; we are careful not to look at or admire anything we pass since we only have tickets for the Turner. Twice we are turned over to other attendants and finally led through a series of doors to a small elevator in which we are conveyed upstairs. We are again escorted through several doors and passages until, finally, we reach the beginning of the exhibit, well almost the beginning, we’re in Room 4 where there is a conveniently located restroom.

We make our way to the start, and plunge into the trip through Turner's imagined and remembered impressions of Venice. Despite his admiration of Canaletto, in one work, Turner even includes a small figure of man at a canal side who is purported to be Canaletto, Turner's work is very different from Canaletto's. Far from being precise almost photographic representations, the Turners are often no more than suggestions of buildings, colors and moods. A few other artists’ works are included in this exhibit, but the show is mainly Turner; there are watercolors and drawings, room after room of them. All the rooms are quite crowded, and it is often necessary to wait to get close enough to the small-framed drawings and watercolors to see them clearly.

The quantity is amazing since Turner was only in Venice a total of three times; since they were not finished enough for the taste of art patrons of the time, many of Turner's works were considered to have no value until fairly recently. I find them very appealing because in many ways they remind me of the reflections I love so much. The light is there and the colors and even some recognizable buildings but most of the time the images are softened, and the sharp edges of the stones are slightly blurred making them more like reflections in the water or in someone's memory than the actual edifice.

I am also in agreement with a friend, Denise because my favorite painting in the entire exhibit is one of a handful in a small room by a man named Ippolito Caffi, of whom I know nothing except that I love his paintings of Venice. My absolute favorite is the one of Santa Maria della Salute entitled - Neve e Nebia. Note to self: Check this guy out and learn more about him and see if there are other paintings of Venice that he has done.

By the time we reach the end of the exhibit I am so hot I am carrying my coat, which does nothing to help the sore muscle in my back; for the first time in a long time my knees are sore too. I do wish more museums in Venice had seats on which the weary could rest while studying a favorite piece, but then I remember the Palazzo Grassi did have seats, and they were always occupied by the younger generation.

We ask about the elevator down and once again we are graciously passed from person to person, led through doors and finally, as we enter the elevator asked if we want the first floor or piazza level. Much as I would love to browse through the gift shop, I know that would mean either walking down two flights of stairs or all the way back through the museum to return to the elevator so I settle for the street. I can always return to the gift shop without paying an entrance fee.

We exit near Florian's - quite a distance from the man entrance, and walk tiredly to the vaporetto. A bride and groom, dressed in their finery are waiting in line; no one seems to pay any attention to them. It seems slightly surrealistic that they are just there in line with everyone else for the vaporetto and no one seems to notice they are in wedding attire. We get seats in the back where we chat with a young couple from Texas as we move slowly under a darkening sky from Valleresso to San Toma. Over the Peggy Guggenheim the sky is beautifully streaked with pink, but for the rest of the ride, it is just twilight gray.

I stop to buy postcards, and when I get home the friend, Pam, whom I had tried to reach, phones me. Bravo to the American Hotel for being so good about helping me locate Pam and Patrick and for then making sure she got my strange message. We are both going to La Fenice on Wednesday night and we will try to speak to one another before then so we can meet during the day or after the opera.

We take the vaporetto to the Accademia stop because it is the nearest to Cantinone Storico. When we had arrived home from our outing, my back was very sore, and I felt tired and not much like going anywhere but the vaporetto ride, as always restored me, and the restaurant is a delight. It is very child friendly; there is a family with three little girls who are happily eating when we arrive; we see another family leaving with a slew of small children, and as we are finishing, another family with four quite small children is not only warmly welcomed, they are moved to a bigger table when one becomes available.

The complimentary prosecco is very good and tonight is especially appreciated. We both begin with prosciutto and melon, a basic Italian appetizer, which we have not enjoyed yet on this trip. We enjoy a quarter carafe of red wine with that, and another quarter of white with our secondo which is the grilled giant scampi. Giant scampi split and grilled seems to be a real Venetian specialty. They are tender and sweet with a delicious and delicate charred flavor clinging to every morel. We share an order of French fries, which happily are not overly salted as they so often can be. I finish with a sgroppino. Martin orders the cream cake, but is also given a small piece of the house meringue because Alessandro wants him to taste it. I also taste a teeny tiny piece, and it is heavenly. If you eat at Cantinone Storico and the meringa is offered as a dolce, order it, you won't be sorry.

This is a very friendly place; everyone greets us when we arrive and says Buona Sera or Arrivaderci when we leave. It has a simple homey decor; paintings by the owner, Alessandro, who has exhibited in several cities around the world, line the walls. Other painting may be from his personal collection.

We make the short walk back to the vaporetto at Accademia, and for once our timing is good; there is a #1 arriving just as we do. As we walk home from the San Toma stop, I show Martin how I think I fell on New Year's Eve. There is only a narrow ledge of the half step in front of the Tragic-Comica Shop. The security gate that is pulled down at night has two big locks that hook into the step, and also a handle all of which protrude ever so slightly into the calle. With lots of people there, it would be impossible to see them, and catching any one of them with a foot at the wrong angle would be more than enough to send a klutz like me flying. Feeling justified that it might not have been entirely my fault, I march down our calle and into our building, safe from further falls at least for the night.

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