Continuing our slow campervan trip to Greece
Venice dripped. I saw it through a veil of fog and all its edges were soft and fuzzy. Then the sun came out and made the black gondolas gleam, washing flapped over narrow green canals, peeling terracotta walls glowed and red geraniums shone under blue shuttered windows.
We leant on a tiny bridge as a Lawrence Llewellyn-Bowen look-alike sang 'Santa Lucia' to a gondola full of tourists. We splashed out 2 euros on a wobbly gondola ride directly across the Grand Canal, (it's what the locals do when there isn't a bridge nearby), ate huge triangles of pizza sitting on the canal steps and took ages choosing a flavour of creamy gelato. Like the Queen of Sheba on the Nile, I sat right up at the front on waterbus no.1 and travelled the length of the Grand Canal, past churches I knew were crammed full of jaw-dropping paintings by Tintoretto and Canaletto. Then we ducked into an Osteria opposite the yard where they make gondolas and sipped sparkling Prosecco before catching our water bus back to the campsite at Fusina.
|
|
No comments:
Post a Comment