Today was our last day in Venice. I think we’d seen most of what we wanted to see. More days could probably be spent soaking up the atmosphere, but I think we were ready to leave a lot of the hoards of tourists and tour groups denoted by their pastel baseball caps. I definitely liked the area around Accademia and Dorsoduro the best – more residential and quiet. Our first business of the morning was queuing in PSM to enter Basilica San Marco. The line wasn’t too bad at 9:30 (it opened at 9:45), so Kirstin held our spot while I ran to check the vaporetto (water bus) schedule to Torcello out in the lagoon. Fighting my way back through the crowds, I noticed Kirstin was close to getting in, so just in time.
Basilica San Marco is grandiose, it’s meant to make you realize how small you are in the presence of God. Furthermore, the tiny details and minutia are simply stunning, with ceilings and walls adorned with small pieces of glass mosaics all hand crafted and placed. We moved through the church fairly rapidly wit hother tourists (the gruff ticket taker at the Pala d’Oro or Golden Chapel saw to that) as we also had to make the 10:15 ferry to Burano, and then the short connection to Torcello. We had a lunch reservation at 12:30 at the famous Locanda Cipriani, the same owners as Harry’s Bar in Venice. We snoozed most of the way to Burano, the island famous for its lace-making, which we unfortunately had to skip. Once across the lagoon to Torcello, one could definitely sense a different ambiance than the one left behind in PSM.
Torcello was once an island of commerce with 50,000 inhabitants during the early millennium. It now houses some ancient ruins, a cathedral, bell tower, and few other homes and eateries. After poking around for an hour, it was time to sit down for what was to become our most extravagant (and expensive) lunch of our young 30-something lives. Given the reservation I had made by fax and email nearly a month ago, they seated us in the lovely garden under a trellis and grape arbor. The setting could not have been more perfect, with sun shining and cool breeze. We both had risotto with shrimp and new asparagus (I don’t think they understood “splitting” the dish – or that’s just not done here) which was very good. I had a steak fillet with artichoke and grilled vegetables while Kirstin had a pasta e fagioli soup and mixed green salad. We both had drinks and espresso to finish. After a leisurely meal, it was time for the bill – let’s just say it was memorable. We had to hurry to catch our scheduled ferries back to PSM. Then we bid arrivederci to the Westin E&R and boarded a packed vaporetto with our bags toward Ferrovia/Venezia Santa Lucia, the train station.
Kirstin chatted with a friendly lady from Manchester, UK who was touring Italy with 39 other “sterling” mates. Upon disembarking at Ferrovia, we dashed to get on the regionale train to take us to Castelfranco Veneto. I actually had to run back from the platform into the station to validate our ticket, or face a fine on board – amazingly, no one ever checked our tickets unlike on Amtrak! The regionale was pretty full with businessmen commuting home and a notable group of machismo young college dudes. I had a hard time hearing and seeing the stops, but luckily Kirstin caught a glimpse of the right sign and we got off at the prescribed station Castelfranco Veneto, about 50 minutes from Venice.
Next up was a very interesting taxi ride with our driver Rosario who would: drive us to Asolo, tell us about the weather, inquire if we needed or wanted to reserve a return to the Castelfranco Veneto station, ask why I booked our train tickets the way I did (“why Castelfranco Veneto – Venezia – Milano, and not Castelfranco Veneto – Vicenza – Milano?”), and curse (“Ma donna!“) when the road to our hotel was closed for construction. All in Italian. Finally, I had gotten the conversation with a non-English speaking native just as I had secretly hoped for and dreaded simultaneously. I think I managed ok (explaining how the other train route would only leave us 15 min. to switch in Milano Centrale to Monterosso, if the train was late we’d be out of luck, etc.). In the end, we secured a return with Rosario (or another driver if he couldn’t come or traffic was bad, etc.) for Friday morning. “E importante e sicuro” he kept telling us – this is important and your reservation is safe, don’t worry. Kirstin and I laughed about our ride and beamed with pride at my Italian skills while wheeling our bags down the closed cobble streets of Asolo to our hotel, the Villa Cipriani.
Starwood came through for us again. We were given a 3rd floor corner room #307 with view of the garden and Veneto hillside, as well as a hand-signed note from the manager, a bottle of chilled prosecco, and fresh fruit. Simply amazing. It was so beautiful and peaceful, sipping our wine from the garden terrace, enjoying the birds and cool breezes, sheep grazing on the hills amidst grapes and olives trees, just…..peaceful. Tranquillo. A great place to unwind from the frenzied tourists and hawkers selling knockoff handbags in Venice (“You like Fendi? Gucci by Gucci?”). Asolo is called the Land of a Thousand Horizons, famous for its resident, the English poet Robert Browning. After an evening stroll and reasonable meal at a local tavern, it was time to retire to our room and savor the wonders of Asolo.
Ciao, Tom
