All City

Venice is uncompromisingly all city. This working-for-a living, going-about-its-business city in the water mesmerizes us. 50 generations have shaped this intensely urban life, unmodernized by the car, with an enviable quality of life. A self-governing republic for 1,000 years, the public square organizes daily life for the Venetians and we find a vantage point to watch it unfold at the Campo Santa Margherita in the Dorsoduro district.

Our first encounter with Santa Margherita happens one afternoon as we are walking in that general direction and pass 30 or so elementary school aged children being met by their parents at the end of the school day. What in most communities is a line of cars parked out front is instead a gaggle of young and old picking each other out in a public gathering sort of way. We skirt pass them having now become experts in avoiding crowds and continue on to the square ready for our afternoon Campari and soda (Alan) and glass of bubbly Prosseco (Debi).

Within minutes, the square transforms as its residents arrive. There are pick up soccer games,

teenage boys looking at teenage girls,

scratches and bumps being tending to,

young love in bloom,

and elders enjoying the scene.

Loving the way the community has claimed this square as its own, we decide to come back and see what the early morning hours are like. Alan orders his espresso and a machietto for me (somewhere along this trip I have begun to drink real-leaded espresso for the first time in my life) and we take our seats facing the campo and watch an ordinary Venetian morning of people off to work, off to school or early morning grocery shopping.

The evening transforms the square once again. Grandstand seats are brought in, lights strung, and a net and scoreboard put up for the girls’ high school volleyball game. Even if you did not see the posters announcing the event, you are drawn out of your home by the cheering crowd.

Campi are the least decorated parts of town because most of the beautiful homes face the water. But in their plainness, they become teeming with life.

Art, Music and Mums

My friend Steve loaned me his favorite book on Venice, "The Companion Guide to Venice", by Hugh Honour. I read it cover to cover like a novel becoming engrossed in its rich story-telling descriptions of masterpieces by Titian, Tintoretto and Tiepolo. Unlike most cities in the world, Venice’s art has not been removed and tucked under glass for special viewing but decorates the walls of its churches and exterior of its buildings for any street passerby to enjoy. With this brilliant book, I now had a way to avoid Alan and I being on separate vacations together. I simply paused in our wanderings to locate the building I was standing in front of and read about it, sometimes out loud.

I found my favorite church bordering the district of San Marco and Cannaregio, the Santa Maria dei Miracoli. Pietro Lombardi designed the church which was built between 1481 and 1489 and Honour describes it as, “one of the most beautiful small buildings in the world.” Not only does its exquisitely petite proportions satisfy your eye but Lombardi allows the richness of its natural materials to speak for themselves without unnecessary adornments.

We spend an evening in the La Chiesa di S. Giacometto enjoying Vivaldi’s Four Seasons played by a magnificent local orchestra. The church located in the San Palo district is considered the oldest church in Venice and is deeply connected to the Rialto market with the inscription on its cross invoking honesty in merchants, accuracy of weights and the legality of contracts. It was rebuilt in the 11th century but retains its original form dating back to the 5th century. During intermission we strike up a conversation with the couple sitting next to us . . . only to find out that their son and daughter-in-law live 4 houses down from Alan’s father in Toronto and know him from his trips taking the dog for a walk up and down the street.

We were especially moved by a painting (artist and church now lost to me) of a mother offering her child up for baptism. We both connected to the spirit between Mum and baby and picked this painting to light a candle for our Mums who had passed away (mine just a few months ago and Alan’s several years ago). A quiet moment of giving thanks for the gift of life they gave us and wishing their spirits peace.

To Market, To Market We Go

An Italian friend of Alan’s told him to “follow the Venetians like a ghost” (an interesting saying as Venetians are reputedly the only Italians who indulge in ghost stories). Since you have two choices of travel in Venice: by boat or by foot (no cars or bicycles are allowed in the city) – we lace up our shoes and hit the back alleys and streets. Thankfully we lose the tourist crowds within a few blocks of Piazzo San Marco and our feet seem to have a new power, a surge of energy for once not drained by being watchful of sharing public space with the car.

Climbing the steps of the dramatic stone Rialto Bridge we cross into the Santa Croce district to find the outdoor market in hopes of satisfying our craving for fresh fruits and vegetables after the sausages, salami, bread and cheeses of Budapest. We are early enough to watch the boats off-loading crates of brilliantly colored peppers, tomatoes and seasonal squashes. Making purchases of tender, peppery rucola (arugula), plump cherry tomatoes, crisp red and yellow peppers, nectarines and pears we then wander over to the fish market.

Right then and there I decide I only want to eat fresh fruits, vegetables and seafood while in Venice.

Arrival in Venice

We proved out the legendary theory of 6 degrees of separation as we traveled from Budapest to Venice by train – a 12 hour ride that first took us to Vienna and then south through beautiful mountainous countryside. The first half of the trip quickly passed as we shared our cabin with an Australian Mom and daughter-in-law in the grocery business and a woman economist from Israel representing a modern European furniture company. Stories of living on the same kibbutz linked the Australian daughter and the economist. Then Alan and the Israeli swapped names and stories of the Bonfman family members they knew out of Montreal. We all shared our background of working in retail. Of course, our running international commentary on the economic conditions in the States, Canada, Australia and Europe now seem quite naïve in light of what happened to world markets a few days later.

I was so excited about arriving in Venice at night. Cruising down the canal in the evening is magical. Since I was here 10 years before, and this was Alan's first visit, I was the hostess serving up a great treat for him. The San Marco basilica lit in her full majesty is breathtaking.

There is an abrupt sensory transition point when you arrive in Venice – simultaneously thrilling and bewildering. Our directions after getting off the vaporetto are to “go down the calle, turn left and go over the bridge, look for the archway and turn left by the gondoliers and continue into the courtyard.” Never the mention of a street name. We are staying 5 nights at the lovely Europa and Regina Hotel and after getting settled we go out for a late bite to eat.

Castle Hill, Street Fairs and the Baths

The next few days we continue mostly on foot but also begin to use their wonderful public transportation. Strolling across the Chain Bridge, we go up the funicular to Castle Hill only to stay long enough to have a non-descript bite to eat and look back at the amazing Parliament Building. We then wander down the back side of the hill until we reach Attlia Ut. There we find a smokey pizza joint with red and black modern decor that replenishes the calories burned by our quick steps trying to ward off the chill in the air.

It is in these wandering through residential streets that we really begin to appreciate the"clues" - much like a scavenger hunt - on how the neighborhoods and streets are interconnected for the pedestrian. After all, this is a very old city and common pathways were linked together long before the auto exerted its presence. Beautiful cascading steps suddenly appear to take us from one block to the next.

Under the Soviet rule, few cars were in the hands of individuals. That has now changed and the rules and the hierarchy are being sorted out between auto, bicycles and pedestrians as to who gets what part of the road. Some sort of social pact allows the car to encroach on the walker's space narrowing it to a few feet while in other areas its presence is refused and instead space is dedicated to a calmer demeanor. Alan soaks this all up as he thinks about what can be applied to communities willing to embrace a more walkable culture. I watch as he retreats into measuring the width of a sidewalk or lane and wonder why he doesn't go into sensory overload keeping track of all the details. But he is like a kid in a candy store taking it all in.

The next day we take the underground out to Andrássy Ut only to find that this major boulevard is closed for the day to car traffic for a street fair celebrating, what else . . . but the bicycle! Craft booths and a stage with music are rolled in.

Coffee is again first on our agenda and we find the classic Muvész Kávéház with its 19th century elegant interiors for indulgence. This is a city that Alan describes as "has great bones". Beautiful large blocks of buildings from the 1800's, while in need of repair, are rich in their history. It reminds Alan of London during the 1960's and '70's before its major redevelopment spurt.

I enjoy the greeness. The people here love their public squares, parks and tree-lined streets. While indulging at a chocolate shop, we meet a Canadian real estate developer who believes Budapest is one of the best real estate values still in Europe.

Riding the M-1 line, we see how easily the mass transit acts as a glue allowing residents to commute throughout the city. I love the ease of the wayfinding. It is brilliant in its simplicity. A rudimentary system of dots and arrows always let me know where I am, what direction I am traveling in and what I can expect next. Perfect for confidence in exploring a new city.

High on my list is to spend a few hours soaking in the public thermal Széchenyi Baths in the middle of the City Park. We head out there on a chilly day and walk through Heroes Square. After wandering through the park, we see our destination . . . the big yellow copper-domed building. Soon we find ourselves laughing among jets, bubbles, waves, waterfalls and whirlpools. Our tired legs are revived and I am convinced I can look further over my shoulder as my muscles relax in the hot mineralized waters. Alan lets the fountain pound his neck getting a powerful massage. And we both laugh as the circular motion of a whirlpool whips us around the perimeter, buoyant both in body and spirit.

Our stay in Budapest is coming to an end. This is Alan's second trip to the city and my first. It has grown on me over the five days. It is a city of rich history, a little tired, a little confused, fashion and retail-oriented and with a vibrancy that feels young in its potential.

Budapest on Foot

Although Budapest has an amazing public transportation system with ring roads and the first underground on the Continent, we decide to first experience the City on foot. Staying at Le Meridien for 5 nights near Deák Square in Central Pest aka Belváros, we only walk a few blocks to the pedestrian-only boulevard Vaci ut lined with restaurants and high-end retail shops. We avoid the stores but do enjoy coffee and a treat at Gerbeaud, the landmark pastry shop at the north end of the Vorosmarty Square.

Here we are given a clue for the rest of our trip - coffee is meant to linger over. Even the smallest cup of espresso is given its appropriate time to savor. While Starbucks does appear in Vienna, coffee to go is still an oddity in all the cities we visited.

Fueled with caffeine and sweets, our serious exploration begins. We make our way down Vaci Ut and then into the neighborhoods surrounding the restaurant row Raday Ut. Alan studies the city's grid as pedestrians, cyclists and cars each claim their part of the sidewalks, alleys and roads. Using his shoe as a unit of measure, he steps off widths of pathways, making notes to share with his colleagues and snapping pictures with his new camera. We notice some streets allow cars and others are blocked off for pedestrians - often by a shop owner's van. How agreement is reached is not clear but the result is restaurants spill into the street with their tables and chairs.

I am on the lookout for clues that pull people in for natural gathering spots and soon become immerse in the cafe scene. With a simple formula of heaters, blankets and retractable awnings, the outdoor cafe scene gets extended to 10 months a year. Why haven't we figured this out in Seattle? If you keep people warm, they too will enjoy a steaming bowl of soup outside.

We pop in to the Great Market Hall or Nagycsarnokm but it is closing time so I will need to return another morning to buy strudel, paprika and fresh fruit.

In desperate need of food, we find what is to be our favorite restaurant in Budapest - Borbíroság. Goulash soup and a great Hungarian wine selection bring us back several times. I love that they stash all the wine corks under the stairwell!