We walked over the Bridge of Size today. I've seen a lot bigger ones to be honest. You might say that the title doesn't specify the size and that the Bridge of Size is of a size (to be specific the exact size that it is). But if someone says something is "of size" then you expect it to be big and it isn't. It's one of the smallest bridges in Venice (but not so small to remark of its tiny size). The Rialto bridge is massive. That's the one they should call the Bridge of Size.
There is a theory that the Bridge of Sighs got its name because that is the sound that all wives make when their husbands repeatedly make that joke. But that doesn't make sense as it would have to have been called that first or they wouldn't have made the joke would they.
As you can see it's a million types of fun being on holiday with me. You can't turn me off.
We went to both the Rialto Bridge and the Doge's Palace this morning - why did they waste all that money building such an impressive home for a dog? You can't stop me. But my favourite moment of the day was walking past a pretty Japanese girl having her photo taken by her boyfriend in front of the Basilico. She chose to pose for the photo by doing a little pirouette and standing in tip toe as if she was a fairy about to fly away. I remarked that she was probably quite a high-maintenance girlfriend. She couldn't bear to think that the remarkable building might steal focus from her so she had to put on this ridiculous pose. I promised that I would do the same in all future photos that we took in Venice - but I forgot to do it. Sorry. Maybe tomorrow. The Doge's Palace was sumptuous and luxurious, but my favourite bit was the drab and dingy prison cells, daubed with the graffiti of the unfortunate inmates, as well as quite a few Spanish tourists from the 1980s. It's a testament to our need to be remembered that such contrasting people strove to let the world know they had been here. I guess we're all doing pirouettes one way or another to try and create some artificial immortality. My own one has been going for over ten years now.
On the Rialto bridge I spotted a few bits of graffiti carved into the stone. One was from 1988, another from the 1990s and one from 2001. There were a few CND symbols that might have predated them all and a couple of lovers' initials. But what struck me as odd was how few people had seemingly marked this slab in the last 30 or 40 years. Had others tried and simply not dug deep enough and had their efforts erased by the passage of time? Or were there really only six people who wanted to make their mark? Or maybe the policing of the bridge is so strong that only once every ten years does someone manage to do the stone-masonry involved before being whisked off to the Palace prisons. Maybe the graffiti from the 1980s is also from prisoners after all.
In the afternoon we went for the requisite ride on a gondola. I made sure I sought out the type of gondola that the local Venetians would travel in rather than the touristy ones. It was a relaxing and enjoyable thirty minute trip and it only cost us £75 (and we only went round in a circle) - those gondoliers must be fucking loaded. No wonder you can't get a cornetto here, they've eaten them all. I managed not to sing the song whilst I was in the gondola though.
Then we looked round another museum where the best thing was a 17th Century portrait of the Fonz. Believe me, it's there. I couldn't get a photo but it's worth a trip to Venice to see it.
Our evening meal was less successful. We couldn't find either of the places that we'd been recommended so just took a chance on a more touristy place. I wasn't all that hungry and ordered some pasta and a salad, but the charming owner twisted out arm and said he'd make us a nice small fish dish that we could share. The food was all OK, but when we got the bill we found we had been charged 45 euros for the fish dish that we hadn't really wanted (and that was pretty slight - I am not sure any fish is worth £40 and we didn't even get one each for that price). It basically doubled our bill. It was our own fault for not checking beforehand, but we left feeling like we'd been duped (which is quite impressive given how much everything costs here) and it slightly spoiled my evening. It's fine to make some money out of us but there's no need to take the piss.
We then went on to see a chamber orchestra play some Vivaldi in a church. They were pretty good, but I became a bit focused on the violinist who looked like a cross between Mussolini, Dan Tetsell and Nicholas Lyndhurst. It was astonishing that he could get such varied and sweet sounds out of his violin and I wondered who had first decided to combine sawing and strings to create a musical instrument. It seems such an unlikely combination and totally odd and alien when you forget that you've already accepted that that is a thing.
The children in the row behind me fell asleep in the short 60 minute programme and I could understand the impetus to do so, but for once in my life I managed to stay awake during a classical music event and be relatively entertained, even if I was spending a lot of the time thinking about my Goodnight Sweetheart fixation.
Our short breaks are packed with over-stimulation yet on our longer ones we tend to sit on beaches doing nothing. There must be some middle ground. But with just under three days in this city we want to make the most of it. We're off to explore the islands tomorrow if the weather is good enough. And if I haven't pushed Catie into the canal (I got my first real impetus to do so today, but resisted).
