Our last day in Venice we decided to take the water bus across the lagoon to Torcello (oldest site in Venice) and then to Burano. These islands are about 6 miles northwest of the city of Venice which is also an island. The water bus is a large boat, efficient and kind of gritty, with seats for some and standing room for the rest of the tourists, mostly Italian, heading out for a Sunday excursion.

Burano is famous for its colorful houses lining the canals. It would be a photographer’s dream except for the crowds.

Venetian lace has been made in Burano for centuries. Today they also specialize in linens and linen clothing. In search of lace I stepped into a “factory” in which the downstairs shop was filled with beautiful clothes and lace. The lovely shopkeeper explained that the lace was made upstairs; that her mother made the clothes, and then she pointed to a line of little watercolors painted by her dad.

We had a charming conversation in Italian and English as she showed me the lace, and explained which was cotton and which was linen; which were macrame and which were needle lace. Things were on sale because it’s the end of the season and even the non-sale prices seemed reasonable. I wish I needed handkerchiefs because they were beautiful. Instead I settled on a lace collar that I don’t need either but it was too pretty to resist.

We went on a quiet ride in a gondola, through the “backstreets” of our little neighborhood Castello. We saw the palazzos of Casanova and Marco Polo. That’s how old this place is! We passed the garbage boat and delivery boats; people waved at us from bridges. Sounds were subdued, just lapping water and quiet working motors. The pace is slow.

Here is Alessandro, age 36, one of Over 400 native Venetians who passed the gondolier apprenticeship and purchased his regulation Venetian gondola.

His only rule was not to touch the decorations, some pom-poms and little gilded statues of horses on the sides.

He was very solicitous getting us from the “curb” (see the steps) in and out. As we were klutzy, so he was nimble, especially going under the bridges when he had to steer and duck. If we went around a sharp corner he called out to let others know he was coming.

I had to wonder if Walt Disney visited Venice and was inspired by the canals for those Disneyland water rides. This was the highlight of my trip and a dream come true.

Mike asked me today if Venice met my expectations. I’ve wanted to come here for maybe 45 years so that’s a great question. I had to think about it though because yes it’s all I’d heard and read about but more intensely so. For example the gondolas really are everywhere. The handsome gondoliers really do have the striped shirts and hunky shoulders, and when they say sing, wow, you can hear them from far across the canals. A stereotype…yes…but true!

We saw a lot of large scale religious art (14th – 16th centuries) in museums and churches today. For contrast, we visited the Peggy Guggenheim Museum of modern art. She was an early (and very rich) collector of 20th century paintings and sculpture, and owner of a modest palazzo on the Grand Canal. She was even married to Max Ernst for 5 years. I loved seeing the work of Ernst, Picasso, Braque, Mondrian, Calder, Kandinsky, etc. Most of the paintings were monochromatic so I really liked this one by Severini that reminded me of an art store window nearby.

When I started this blog I promised myself to be short and focused on one thing a day. I break the vow already. I can’t help myself.

We stumbled onto the Teatro la Fenice that we’d read about in John Berendt’s City of Falling Angels. The entire opera house was rebuilt, mostly with foreign funding, after a 1996 fire. The pink foyer was redone exactly as it was in 1792. The hall has seating on the floor in rose colored arm chairs and five stories of boxes (painted aqua) including a “royal box” that was golden everywhere. The ornate relief designs were formed in paper mache and gilded in pure gold.

The flight from Philadelphia wasn’t too terrible, in spite of coach seats and a 6 hour time change. Entry into Venice is via a “speedboat,” a long low craft seating about 50 people.

You walk to the dock, cruise for about a half hour through rain and gray water, then alight in Venice. As Rick Steves would say, it’s a back door entry, rolling the bag over bridges with stairs and through narrow “streets.” There are no cars, trucks or motorcycles. As we walked to the hotel we saw a garbage boat and carrier boats with bottled water and printer paper.

Our hotel is off the beaten path in Costello. After a nap we set out to find St Mark’s and the Rialto. We did find them many hours later after exhilarating but confusing walking.

We did eventually find our way back with the help of obliging waiters who would circle where we were on our map. Supper was extraordinary pasta for Mike and zuppa de pesce (bouillabaisse) for me on the plaza.

As a seamstress, I had to visit the Betsy Ross House on Arch Street.

She may not have ever lived in this tiny house or sewn the flag per George Washington’s orders, but I was enchanted with her upholstery workshop where she was sewing bed covers. She demonstrated her easy way to cut a specially folded paper into a five point star. She showed me both her single and double sided appliqué stars and her flat felted seams for the stripes on linen flags. Most flags were constructed from worsted wool for durability.

We have a 27-hour layover here and a chance to breathe and become travelers /tourists.

My last and only visit to Philadelphia was in 1976. I visited the archaeological site in Ben Franklin’s yard. Today we saw plaques in the courtyard for his well and his privy: the result of that excavation I assume.

The National Park that encloses Independence Hall and other buildings from the 1700s is integrated with modern buildings and businesses. I saw many ethnic restaurants and heard numerous languages. As cars dropped tourists on the curb I tried to imagine horses on the cobbled streets. I tried to channel signers in their breeches headed to debate liberty as the joggers ran by.

I’m writing on this on my cellphone in a wing chair in the parlor of the Thomas Bond House circa 1763. Cool jazz plays in the background.

As a lifelong Westerner, I am always moved when I visit the East Coast. “It’s so old!

Thank you for reading and responding. It means a lot to me.

Saying goodbye to Anchorage.

We have packed. It’s a challenge to put clothes for 3 seasons and activities from hiking to the Symphony in little carry on bags. I’m going to be the Lady in Black, not my usual color scheme.

Thanks for joining me!