Angela has only cried twice since she arrived in Venice: once over lunch, and once over breakfast, neither of which I cooked. I don’t think it was anything to do with disappointment over the quality of the meal. I think it was an excess of emotion, perhaps related to the beauty of Venice, and the effects of jetlag and Prosecco. Yes, at breakfast.
She has shot lots of photographs, but as yet her efforts at shopping have been, to be frank, a bit underwhelming. Mainly food, alcohol, and gifts for her children.
Nicki and I had an encounter with the Italian John Cleese, who runs the only cafe on Isola de San Giorgio Maggiore. We decided to call him Basilico. He could barely contain his rage at the stupidity of his clientele. Enquiries as to the nature of the Primo Piatti on the menu were greeted with incredulity. There was toast on the menu. Nicki asked what this was, meaning what came with the toast. ‘Square pieces of sliced grilled bread,’ he said.
We had gone to the island to ascend the campanile, which has a wonderful view of the whole of Venice. You can see how small it actually is. We recommend that you go after midday. The bell tolls the hour, and if you are not prepared, you may find your ears ring with the sound of the bells for days afterwards – best to have only one or two, not eleven or twelve.
This afternoon, we went to Ca’ Rezzonico, a beautiful museum of seventeenth century Venice. the walls are covered with damask and velvet in beautiful patterns and colors. Many of the ceilings were painted by Tiepolo. There was an extensive gallery of paintings by early Venetian artists, furniture, mirrors and curtains. Together these things gave a real sense of how life might have been for the rich and powerful in Venice.
A view from the campanile.