One Winter Weekend

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

O utside the cathedral Lucy had to make a decision about what tourist site to visit next. The Basilica tour guide had recommended the Doge’s Palace, across the Square, but she wasn’t altogether interested in another tour of rooms and historical artefacts.

Instead she decided to take a boat tour.

She’d heard that the slow-moving vaporetto on the Grand Canal offered a great water tour of the San Marco, and somehow she and Dominic had never gotten around to taking one last year. It would be nice to see the city during the daytime when she could really peer at the sights.

She bought a ticket and a hot chocolate and took her seat, with her guidebook at the ready. The views were pretty decent: she could see the bridges on the main canal and the side streets, including Rialto Bridge, which was decorated with festive lights for the season. Gradually she stopped thinking about everything she saw in the context of whether she and Dominic had seen it the year before; she was simply enjoying the colourful buildings and festive displays as they slid by, simply because they were beautiful—not because they evoked any particular memories.

The water bus ran around the city for about an hour. Finally, Lucy collected her guidebook and empty cup and stepped off to plan the next part of her day. She fancied going out to Murano Island to visit a glass-blowing studio, and since the next water bus wasn’t leaving for nearly an hour, she decided to grab a quick bite of lunch first.

There were plenty of cafes and small restaurants offering both traditional Italian lunches and more standardised tourist offerings, like miniature pizzas. Lucy chose a hot sandwich and another frothy cappuccino and watched the tourists around her while she ate. She’d always enjoyed people-watching, and it helped to distract her from the fact that she was alone.

Finally, it was time to board the water bus and head out to Murano. Lucy was happy to see that there weren’t quite as many tourists out here; the island was much quieter by comparison to San Marco, though there were still some tourists here and there exploring on foot. She wandered the streets until she found a quiet glass-blowing shop that appeared to be open, and ducked inside.

The man in the workshop was skilfully blowing and moulding glass before the delighted eyes of a few other tourists. Lucy watched with wonder as the man shaped the molten glass into a vase. The tourists broke into applause, and the man smiled. Lucy lingered on for a while to listen to him explain his craft, the history of glass-blowing in the city, and the time that went into crafting each piece.

In display cabinets there were glass vases, abstract sculptures and glassware for the kitchen; Lucy marvelled at the work that went into each piece. Ultimately she left without purchasing anything; she certainly didn’t need anything for herself and she was terrified of something breaking in transit back to Dublin. Maybe another time, she thought wistfully, giving the colourful, fragile pieces one last look before exiting into the street.

Almost before she knew it the sun was setting over the island and it was time to take the water bus back to San Marco. By the time Lucy reached her hotel, she was famished, and she was happy to pop into a small trattoria down the street for her evening meal. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of the food here, she thought as she dug into a fragrant bowl of pasta and washed it down with a glass of wine.

By the time Lucy returned to her room and crawled into bed, it was fully dark in Venice, and the city was slowly quieting down as people returned to their homes or hotels for the night. Somewhere in the distance, Lucy thought she could hear Christmas carols playing in Italian.

“Goodnight, Venice,” she mumbled sleepily, burrowing deeper into her blankets. For the first time in weeks, she was looking forward to the coming weekend.