Venice
Small Details that Made Me Wander
Venice
It feels as if I know exactly where I’m going; after all, I’ve been walking alongside Commissario Brunetti through the streets of Venice for years. He’s the fictional Venetian detective from Donna Leon’s novels—part guide, part philosopher—whose quiet observations made the city feel like home long before I arrived. With each step, the city reveals itself to me. I wander without maps, without an itinerary, with no places to be, and with no gondolas to catch.
In a world where Uber arrives in minutes, the boat ride from the airport to our hotel is pure magic. The pace? Decidedly unhurried. It whispers, slow down—you’ve arrived. As we wheel our suitcases over ancient cobblestones and down slender calles, Venice reveals herself as a storybook come to life.
The city unfurls like a labyrinth of secrets. Bridges lead to more bridges. Osterias lure us in with the smell of garlic and wine. Cicchetti bars offer bite-sized bursts of joy. And somewhere along the way, I realized that here, life moves only as fast as your feet.
No cars. No trains. No bikes buzzing by. Just you and your rhythm. With every step, your senses wake up: the clink of glasses, the echo of footsteps on stone, the scent of sea air and sun-warmed stucco.
Wandering the alleys, you stop trying to “get somewhere.” The point is to be somewhere. The narrow lanes pull you deeper, and suddenly, you’re not a tourist - you’re part of the city.
We don’t follow a map; we follow whatever charming path opens up in front of us. It’s a rare joy not to simultaneously be yanked in a dozen directions. We’re free to notice it all: the ornate ironwork, the peach and orange facades peeling back to reveal weathered brick, the glimpses into Venetian homes with their own private docks—like a whispered invitation into another world.
Every turn feels like a surprise party. You might stumble upon a crumbling archway, a hidden church, or a swanky rooftop terrace near the Rialto, where Aperol spritz meets the 14th-century skyline.
Boats zigzag the canals while the blue-green water reflects palazzos in motion. Bridges connect more than just streets—they link centuries.
Every corner offers a fresh delight: an ornate window here, a Gothic arcade there. The palaces, with their lace-like crenellations, could double as wedding cakes.
And then comes the finale: the sun dips behind the Basilica di Santa Maria della Salute, casting the lagoon in a fiery orange glow. It’s like someone turned up the saturation just for us.
We make our way to Piazza San Marco, now shimmering in the evening light. It’s calm, majestic, timeless. Best of all? You can walk across the square at your own peaceful pace—no rush, no crowd, just you and Venice, glowing under the stars.
Until next time,
