I called Mamma at a little past 7am and told her I could meet her for Mass at the Redentore church at 7:30 if she wanted to. This gave me the hour for Mass and time for the boat ride across the water in time to meet them. I was not meeting my clients until 9am at their hotel and the boat from the Giudecca lands directly in front of the Danieli. She said she would meet me there.
We sat in the services with her holding my hand clasped in both of hers the whole time. I prefer Italian Catholic masses more than in the US; less gymnastics. No kneeling, except if you want to after receiving the host wafer, which I don't do since I'm not officially Catholic.
Years ago during one family-attended Mass, Chiara, Marco's niece, who was then about 12, upon returning to her seat with the wafer on her tongue, asked me why I didn't have to go up and see the priest in the line with everyone else. In Italian: “Did you forget to confess this week and you can't go?” I told her “I'm not Catholic. I attend out of respect to your family and mine.” She rolled her eyes and responded “You are so very fortunate, you aren't forced...”
I miss that kid. We all do. Such a beautiful girl and such a short life.
After services, I kissed Mamma on the steps and caught the vaporetto over to San Zaccaria and flew into the Danieli with a few minutes to spare. My clients were ready for our trek through the streets over to the Rialto markets. We didn't buy anything, but it's always lovely to see the stalls all stacked beautifully with fruits, veg, and fish ready for sale. It's all incredibly artful. I love to hear the vendors calling out their wares for sale to the masses, their voices robust and loud, telling us what is fresh and on special.
From there we wound our way through the San Polo sestiere to the Frari church, where I showed them the tombs of the artists Titian and Canova and four Doges. I was technically sneaking a museum visit in, since the artwork of the church could be in any major museum anywhere in the world. But such is almost any renowned church in Italy; there is always at least one piece of art by a well known artist . This one has more than one: two figures of St John the Baptist, from Donatello and Sansovino, the painting over the high-altar of the Madonna's Ascension from Titian (along with another Madonna in a smaller side chapel), and yet another Madonna painting from Giovanni Bellini.
The basilica was first completed in 1320, but this expansion was finished in 1396 with the completion of the campanile (belltower) the second tallest in the city behind the one at Piazza San Marco. The Titian altarpiece is an example of art “in situ” - it was created specifically for this sitting; it melts into the surroundings and the borders of the painting show the church itself in its framing. It was always meant to be here, and always will be. It's the largest altarpiece in Venice.
From there we walked through the Dorsoduro district (my home turf) and I took them to my favorite church, Santa Maria della Salute. It's pretty spectacular, and how often do you see an octagonally-shaped church dedicated to the plague? Afterward, it was starting to sprinkle, so instead of an official gondola ride, we opted for a ride on a traghetto, which is a gondola that ferries you only across the Canale Grande. Yes it doesn't have as much romance, but you get the idea of how they work the oar and forcola for 1/100th of the price. Seriously. Gondola rides are really overrated. The only people you really see in them are Japanese tourists. If you want to spend 90Euros go for it, but a traghetto ride is only 50Eurocents. If it the forecast didn't call for an absolute deluge the rest of the day, they would have been happy taking that ride later on, but nobody wants to get wet and the gondoliers don't like to expose their incredibly expensive boats to the wet if they don't have to. The Japanese however, would be taking those rides come hell or highwater as scheduled, which happens quite often in Venice actually.
We stopped for lunch just outside the Fenice Opera House, at Ristorante Al Teatro, a personal favorite of mine. La Fenice was destroyed by fire for the second time in 1996 (arson!) and rebuilt ten years with the mandate of “com'era dov'era” (how it was, where it was) using the original architectural plans from 1790. La Fenice means “Phoenix” so being named for the bird rising from ashes is not lost to the people of Venice, who has twice had the theater rise from the ashes as well. Rigoletto and La Traviata had their original premieres here. We were not taking the tour inside, but the fact that the edifice is there once again is remarkable. John Behrendt (known for “Midnight in the Garden of Good & Evil”) wrote a captivating book about the process of the rebuild – “The City of Falling Angels” - I highly recommend it. It gives great insight to the inner workings of municipal bureaucracy in an Italian city and the drive to rebuild an historical legacy to the world.
It was pouring by the time we left lunch, and we trotted over to “my consulate” (tm Mark Strange) to grab umbrellas, three minutes away. It's the sister hotel to the Danieli and all the umbrellas say “Westin Luxury Collection” so it's not as if we were stealing. The manager on duty recognized me and nodded when I mentioned the name of the tour operator as I grabbed four umbrellas. My group tours stay there during spring, summer and fall. I will bring the umbrellas back later after the rain, but they always have at least 20 on hand at the door for guests at any given time, so it's really not a big deal.
We walked on, now fortified with cover from the rain and made out way back to the Danieli so they could have a few hours rest. While we had plans to take another walk in the afternoon into the Ghetto and for shopping, the clients said they would rather wait out the rain and just go to dinner later. They are going on a cruise after this to Turkey and Greece and nobody wanted to take the risk of getting sick being out in the elements. I told them I would return at 7pm to escort them to our farewell dinner.
I made my way back to the house and had a nice afternoon to myself. It was storming pretty heartily but had subsided considerably by the time I left the house to pick them all up for dinner. We went to Da Fiore, one of the city's best restaurants (and one I hadn't been to yet) for our farewell meal. A great time was had by all. I stopped in at the Consulate to say hello to “uncle” Giorgio at the bar and “brother” Marco at the Concierge. I didn't give him the third degree about our family dinner the night before, only asking if Donatella had a good time. He said Mamma had a good time, but was pretty stoic about Donatella. This is telling...
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