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September 2011
more photos here
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Wednesday 21st September Decided to forego the bleary-eyed crack-of-dawn EasyJet this year and go for their lunchtime flight. My train journey was unfortunately rife with delay and cancellation. The only entertainment provided by the announcer at Clapham Junction, after many minutes of regular corporate apologies, saying "The train pulling into platform 13 is not stopping, stand clear...oh, it's stopped. OK. The train at platform 13 is for East Croydon, passengers for Gatwick Airport, Brighton, Eastbourne ... actually wherever you want to go, get on this train and change at East Croydon." Once at Gatwick the EasyJet check in was fine - a long queue, but fast moving. The policemen with big black guns across their chests were a bit unnerving mind you, and the woman behind me transferring stuff from her suitcase to her hand luggage shouldn't have been weird, but the fact that her hand luggage was one of those blue fibreglass sacks from Ikea was pretty odd. The boarding and flight went pretty smooth too - the flight full of couples and parties of white-haired Brits, so I felt young. At Marco Polo I discovered they've moved the Venice Connected desk, where you collect your pre-bought vaporetto pass. It's now the right-most window of the bunch just to the left when you come out of arrivals, where they sell the boat and bus tickets. I noticed on a poster while I was waiting that the museum pass can now be bought including the Chorus churches, which is a new deal on me.
Caught bus number 5 to Piazzale
Roma, walked over the bloody Calatrava Bridge and was at my hotel, the Ca'Pozzo, in no time.
After my falling out with the Istituto Ciliota last year, following shoddy treatment, I decided to go back to one of the few hotels in Venice
I'd stayed in that I'd liked enough to go back. Swift check-in, room is all modern and equipped, the wi-fi is free, and
the first four soft drinks from the minibar are complimentary. Spiffy! And
my first email is from April Steele, my agent within San Giorgio Maggiore
who
regular readers may remember my reporting had accidentally found the lost arm off the
Saint George statue in an unmarked room deep in the bowels. Well, she's
sent photographic proof (above right). Should we start a campaign
to get it fixed back on? |
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Friday 23rd September Today, I thought, Castello. Caught the circular vaporetto anti-clockwise, taking me past the station and the bus station, around by Santa Marta, and through the Giudecca canal to, eventually, the Biennale gardens. (Nice to see the patch of scaffolding on the window on the front of the Doge's Palace that dropped stones on a tourist has finally come down, after a few years. Shame about the remaining big blue blight panels down the side.) Walked through the Garibaldi Gardens and took advantage of unusually not reaching San Francesco di Paola just as it's closing for a leisurely visit. It has four shallow chapels each side with the first ones, at the back, being under the nun's gallery. All the good art here is at clerestory level or on the ceiling, the latter by Giovanni Contarini, a pupil of Titian. Also not at ground level, there's an impressive bulbous organ balcony. The inevitable painting by Palma Giovane here depicts four female saints, but has a hole cut into it top centre for a small somewhat primitive painting of the Madonna and Child to be inserted. Along Via Garibaldi to where Santa Maria Ausiliatrice has become a bit of a focus for Biennale satellite exhibitions. A couple of old artisan houses opposite are housing various exhibitions, and it's nice to wander through crumbly old rooms and corridors, even if the art's mostly underwhelming. It was also nice to get into Santa Maria Ausiliatrice at last, even if the church itself was hosting a big noisy video thing, which blocked the altar. Too dark to see much too, but the restoration seems to have left only bits of the original church, although there is a small nun's gallery, more a nun's balcony really, at the back. The other rooms were lacking in character, but one had loads of fetching little prints of bridges, and I even bought postcards of them. Tim Davies is the artist. Bought myself a bag of giuggiole and made my way to San Pietro delicately spitting my pips into canals as I went. The Chorus attendant woman at San Pietro was obviously somewhat peeved at my interrupting her mobile call with my request for an info sheet in my language, especially as she hadn't put them behind their right dividers and had to search. This church is big (see above right). Not Frari big, but certainly San Salvador big. It's three naves wide, with a large dome. It's full of middling 18th Century art, with some good doge tombs and a large Longhena high altar. There's an odd Basaiti of five saints that seems pasted into a too-large frame (over the third altar on the right) with some mock stone work painted in to fill the gap. I sense a story here. Also earlier than most of the rest is a Veronese high on the left over the entrance to the Lando Chapel, of the few chapels in a Venetian church named after a character from Star Wars. I then headed back via the Arsenale to take advantage of their bookshop's toilet. On the way, as I approached a steep bridge, I became away of an elderly chap behind saying something about 'giovani' and 'aiuto' and realised he was asking me, young chap that I am, to help him get his heavy shopping trolley over said bridge. Call me giovani again and I'll do your shopping for you, I would have said, if I'd known how to say it in Italian. Coming out of the loo I spotted a display of Swatch watches, there because they're sponsoring the Biennale this year, it seems. Now I'm looking for a new watch as the one I bought in Venice on a past rip (the infamous Basil Fawlty trip to be precise) has been playing up lately, regularly setting itself to midnight on the 1st of January 2004. Presumably this is the time when the watch was most happy and it wants to go back. Anyway, after considering a bright red or a tasteful grey model and finally deciding on frugality I wandered out, checked to see whether it was time for lunch yet and, you guessed it - it was the early hours of 1.1.2004 again. So, an omen I thought, and now a tasteful grey Swatch embellishes my wrist. Got myself a slice of focaccia di cipolle and some little tomato flavour bruschetti things and sat in the campo outside San Giovanni in Bragora and lunched, and listened while an African bag seller made a sale and told his 
life story to two sympathetic women. Visited the bookshop with all the
cats, and found a book all about San Pietro Martire on Murano. It's
multilingual and seems to have been published in the late 1970s. I
say seems as it has no date, but has a dedication written in it in
blue biro in Italian with the date 1980. I bought it anyway, and
stroked a large plush grey cat, lounging in a small box, to celebrate my
find. Back via the gelateria by San Zanipolo for a celebratory coppa (fior
di latte and fragola), stopping also to buy a celebratory tart to go with
my afternoon tea. I was told it was mele, and it seemed to be just so,
with some spiceness too.After my siesta I strolled to a couple churches past the bus station, for exterior pics. Then up to Campo Santa Margherita. Nearby I happened across a restaurant in a garden called Trattoria da Silvio which did a pizza with onions, a fave topping of mine not often seen. I went in and choose a seat and looked up and...there smack centre of my sight line was the famous campanile of San Pantelon, my comparison of which to a vibrator has got me more than a couple of emails, I must say. Returned via the gelateria that does the odd flavours - the Gelateria Alaska di Pistacchi Carlo. I had cinnamon and almond flavours and congratulated Pistacchi Carlo on his fine flavours. |
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Sunday 25th September Them what knows me knows me to be a creature of habit, and so it being Sunday it must be the Lido. All made a bit easier by my staying in Cannaregio this time and there being a Vaporetto from the Guglie stop direct to the Lido. I poked my head into Santa Maria Elisabetta when I got there but there was a service on and it was packed, so no sliding into a back pew and trying to look pious. I made for the Ospedale al Mare, my Lido habit bordering on addiction. This time there was an impromptu sign over the entrance, signalling a move by locals to reclaim the building as their own. I wandered the rooms and corridors and took many photos. There was yet more evidence of more people getting in, from debris like water bottles to the plaster underfoot having a finer-ground path down the middle. I revisited old bits, with my swanky new camera, and found some new subjects, like the peculiar shaped baths (below right) and the most spectacular damp patch ever (below). After a fair while I realised that I badly need  ed to pee, which put me into something
of a quandary. I'm in a building with dozens of toilets, but they've all
long since seen any running water. They also probably won't see demolition
for decades though. What to do? On my way out I passed the theatre, where
a chap and his dog made eye contact and invited me in to tell me something
about his group's hopes for the buildings' preservation and reuse.
The hand-made signs spoke of a group in its early stages, but I gave him a
card for this website and I hope for some fruitful contact for both of us.
(More photos from today are on my Ospedale al Mare page.) Leaving the Opedale, which has been in development limbo for years, and
walking past the Hotel des Bains, where work has been halted by Italy's
(and Europe's) financial state, and the scaffolding remains, it's
easy to despair of any progress.
And the big new white buildings up by the Excelsior - is anything
happening there? They seem eternally ringed by
high fencing. Caught the boat back, passing a marina at the tip of Castello
which was bizarrely full of just vaporetto stops. A slice of pizza for lunch. Followed by some tart indecision... Tonight I went to Al Faro again. This time I had some bruschetta and pesto gnocchi, and it was good again. The gelato on the stroll was just plain old stracciatella and limone. |
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Monday 26th September I feel I must begin by clearing up a couple of questions left unanswered yesterday. Firstly I have to confess that I did use the long-unplumbed facilities in the ruined ospedale. And yes, I did eat both of the cestoni - the cocco and the mandorla - the photo makes them look larger than they were. A Dorsoduro day today, beginning at Angelo Raffaelle, a church I'd not visited in a while. It's Greek-cross shaped and given a warm glow inside by the orangey net curtains. The fluffy-looking scenes from the life of St Tobias along the organ loft are by brother-of-Guardi. The 18th Century art here holds little to surprise, and there's the statutory Palma Giovane painting. The ceiling fresco by Fontabasso is a bit darkly out of tone, but impressive. He also did the somewhat overpowering (as I remember it) low ceiling in the sacristy. One can go have a look if there's anyone to ask. The woman who had climbed up onto an altar with a feather duster seemed like she might not want to be disturbed and have to climb down. On to San Sebastiano, which I'd not visited since the recent restoration finished, but when I got there...access only to the very back because of mucho scaffolding and more restoration starting and clanking of scaffolders. Bugger it! The helpful woman who sold me my Chorus pass had mentioned some closures and opening time changes, but not this one. I made for the Frari, as I have been here four days now without one Bellini. On the way I notice that San Pantalon is open, which is odd as it's always been an evening opener. But no, it now opens M0n-Sat 10-12,1-3 and even has a website sanpantalon.it. It's better inside for being daylit, as opposed to the evening light of previous visits, especially to get a good look at the painted ceiling, which is spectacular (see above right). It's by Fumiani, whose work can be found in some of the chapels here too. In fact the ceiling can now be lit by putting a very reasonable 50 cents into one of the boxes by the middle right chapel. The other box takes 50 cents to light up the nearby Veronese, but it's considerably less of a bargain, it being a much smaller painting. The church is big and tall and aisleless, with three deep chapels on each side of the nave. To the left of the high altar there is now access to two chapels. The first is the Capella del Chiodo which contains a mighty impressive large Coronation of the Virgin by Antonio Vivarini and some bits from an earlier altarpiece by Paolo Veneziano. Have these works been gathering dust here awaiting display? I doubt that they were painted for this chapel. I'll find out. There's also the Capella della Santa Casa di Loretta. This is medium-sized, dark and brick-walled, with sweet fragments of fresco by Pietro Longhi, which are mentioned in guidebooks, and must've been made for here because they're, like, stuck to the walls. So, what with the new opening times, the chapels, the Vivarini, the ceiling, the lighting, and all, this one moves well up the ratings and becomes a bit of a must-visit. I went to the Frari, as all this 18th Century stuff had only increased my Bellini need. A quick visit, just paying respects to the Titians and the tombs. I didn't realise that the weird black and white tomb with the blackamoors carrying the sacks has a door in the middle out to the calle. It was left open today with a barrier, so people could peer in, which was even weirder, after all these years of not having thought of the tomb as an enormous doorcase. Aside from the important (if not so lovable) Titians and the wondrous Bellini, the Frari's also good for an appreciaton of the Vivarini, all of them. Vivid red robes and square heads - that was their thing. But that was enough church action, so I headed for the Ca' Corner della Regina, a palazzo done up by the Fondazione Prada to show modern art. I was intrigued to visit it as I had been reliably informed that it was worth the €10 admission fee. Walking around the ground floor with its, admittedly attractive, stony and bricky spaces full of big and stony art I was sceptical. But the main room on the piano nobile is a treat of decorative frescoing (see right), with some nice bits of old stuff in the other rooms to. And even some of the new stuff was a bit fascinating. But not the Jeff Koons of course. €1o does seem a bit steep though.  Lunch eaten
in a favourite
canal-side spot, and for the more savoury amongst you (including my n & d)
I photographed what I ate (see right). The one on the left is a
cheese thing and on the right is a cheese and tomato thing. With my tea
back at the hotel I had a frutti di bosco...well the shop label described
them as ravioli (see below right) - biscuity pastry, jammy filling.Me evening stroll was to San Marziale, an  evening-opening church.
It was open and empty when I got there, the trick seeming to be to get
there after it opens at 5.00, but before the service which seemed to be
kicking off at 6.00. It's aisleless with 3 altars along either side of the
nave, with a pair with barley-suger twisted (and coloured) columns either
side of plainer central ones with statues. The high altar is one of those
exuberant jobbies - highly populated and surging up to, in this case, a
gold globe. There are even carved figures under the table, as it were. The
right hand central altar has an unconvincing Tintoretto of Saints Peter
and Paul which, a sign says, was over the high altar before the 17th
Century 'restoration'. I left as the bells rang and people started
arriving for the service, and had a photographically fruitful evening
stroll. Evidence to the right, and on the Facebook photos page
here. |
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Tuesday 27th September Blimey, where has the week gone - it's my last day already. Things yet to do: the synagogues, San Zaccaria to see 'my' Bellini, the Accademia, Burano, the Real Venice exhibition at San Giorgio Maggiore, Ravenna ... and I haven't been into Piazza San Marco once the whole week! Or checked out the San Lorenzo cats. Bearing all this in mind I decide to head up towards Madonna dell'Orto and then head East, letting chance play its hand. I do this because if I've learned anything it's that if you want to have your faith in Venice strengthened it's best to keep to the back canals, and if you want to get jaded then head up, for example, the Strada Nova. Today I'm also going to learn that Palma Giovane is maybe not as bad a painter as he's painted and that someone up there is intent on making this my best trip in ages. On the way to Madonna dell'Orto I pass the decidedly small and mostly-closed Santa Maria dei Redentore and its doors are open. I'd found it open a few years ago and taken a quick photo but been intrigued by a likable altarpiece, which I tried to get a better photograph of. Some noise out the back resolved itself into a friendly chap who showed me some leaflets telling the church's history! That exclamation mark is because I have a very brief paragraph about this place on my churches site, and now it gonna get a whole lot longer. And that interesting altarpiece ... Palma Giovane. On to the Madonna dell'Orto, and the refreshment of not having to be polite about the art in a church. Here we have Tintoretto and son, of course, but also a fine Cima and a couple of impressive works by Matteo Ponzone, a new name on me. Even the Palma Giovane Annunciation is one of his more original compositions. (A church full of Tintoretto and Palma gets the high altar position!) The Presentation of the Virgin is still one of my favourite Tintorettos, but has it been cleaned lately? Ever? Titian's Tobias and the Angel, taken from San Marziale (presumably because it's a less visited church and so doesn't deserve a painting by a big name) still looks very unTitiany to me. The cloister next door was open, for the showing of art, but not Biennale-related stuff. Some of it was actually quite good and the cloister is lovely (see above right) but aren't they all? Heading vaguely towards the Miracoli I passed Santa Caterina, a church I'll never get in as it's part of a school and rumoured to be used as storage, but the side door's open! I do my best to look casual and slope in. The church is here being used purely as a space, and a space with three big portakabin school rooms built in the middle. You can walk around this block, getting some odd looks from the kids learning stuff as you pass the open doors. The church fittings are in a very poor state. Two side altars remain, one on each side, and the high altar in it's charred-looking apse. No art works remain. There are bits of partitioning and modern doors to further make for a functional but unlovely space. Consulting my map to make sure I'm on a direct route, I pass over bridges and through calli where my feet have not previously trod, which is always a treat. Until I find myself at the door of the House of Corto Maltese, a museum dedicated to Hugo Pratt, Venice's most famous comic-book artist. Any more such surprises and I'll have to double up on my blood-pressure tablets! It turns out to have only been open since February of this year and to cost €6. It's not a big place, but there's some art to look at, a mocked-up room in the British-Empire-inspired style of the comics, and the opportunity to dress up and create stuff and write messages to our hero. And to buy a Corto Maltese fridge magnet (see right). Lunch was (fine, fresh-saladed) falafel from a place beyond San Zanipolo, eaten on a bench by the side entrance of same, with entertainment provided by three policemen checking the papers of a couple of chaps of middle-eastern appearance, at great length. And some pushy pigeons demanding bits of pitta bread. The bakers by my hotel's entrance alleyway provided me with a marmalade ravioli and an almond kiffle. They were small and looked boring (so no photo) and were boring in the eating too. A disappointing end to a somewhat special morning. Laying my weary bones down for my afternoon snooze I registered the time as 3.30. My afternoon constitutionals rarely last longer then an hour. Any longer and they tend to lose their refreshment value. Imagine my surprise, then, at waking up to the sound of church bells. They're ringing early, I thought. But no, it was 6 o'clock. So I zipped over to Dorsoduro for a last chat with Kim, saw her onto her Giudecca vaporetto, and took me to Gianni's nearby on the Zattere for some penne al arrabiata. A pera and fior di latte coppa from Nico followed, and a night-time weave through from the end of the Zattere to the Scalzi Bridge and back to the hotel. Why does one always feel most arrived and comfortable just before it's time to go home? |
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Wednesday 28th September Breakfast, pay bill, catch bus, queue for flipping ages at the EasyJet desk, now on the left as you enter hall, and one long snaky queue for all destinations. Seriously considering going for more expensive, less stressful flying experience next time. With food maybe. The flight was hitchless, though. At Gatwick they're now using machines to read the new UK/EU passports and teething problems involving people brains made this queue a bit long too. You put you passport's page with your photo on face down on the glass of the machine (like an Oyster card reader crossed with a photocopier), then you go through the gate that opens when it decides you're not dangerous, then you stare at a camera lens over a screen while it reads your face, and then the big glass gate opens and you're in the country. I did it in about 30 seconds and I am not, as you may have noticed, a rocket scientist. Last thoughts: one of my best trips, the time flew, I went to new places, I saw inside churches I never thought I would, it didn't rain, my accommodation was near faultless and my shiny new laptop is now one of my very best friends. Everyone was friendly this time, at the hotel, in shops, in most of the churches, and in the Corto Maltese museum the chap was helpful beyond the call. What I didn't do this trip was walk through Piazza San Marco, even once, or visit the Accademia, or San Zaccaria. I'm wondering if I could've stayed longer. I do get homesick after a week on my own, but there's also that thing of it taking a week for one to get really settled in. So next year I might stay longer, or maybe miss a year and concentrate on Florence. |
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Back, somewhat indirectly, via the bakers over the Rialto for a slice of their
olive and cheese focaccia, which I ate sitting on some canal steps feeding
bits of it to fish - a lot of little minnowy ones, yes, but several
full-size fish too, I kid you not. The video proof is
