One Winter Weekend

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

W hen he emerged Rachel had ordered two hot coffees to go. They headed back out into the piazza, and Scott hopefully slipped an arm around her shoulders, but the earlier magic was lost.

It was late morning now, and St Mark’s Square was filling up with winter tourists taking pictures and talking loudly in a mixture of languages. It was difficult to have an intimate conversation with all the noise and bustle, and Scott soon gave up trying.

When they had finished their coffees they entered the Basilica, and for a moment left the hustle and bustle of the outside masses behind. Stepping into the cathedral was an experience that Scott could only classify as otherworldly; the paintings stretched up the walls and all over the ceilings of the domes above, combined with swirling mosaics and inlays that made the entire interior seem to spring to life.

Rachel pointed out several of the paintings. “St. Mark’s Basilica was constructed in the eleventh century,” she whispered. “The paintings and mosaics were constructed and touched up over the centuries. Very little of the original mosaic tiling on the ceiling is left—probably only a third—due to restorations over the centuries. If you look up to the roof you can see scenes depicting the life of Christ and the lives of the patron saints of Venice.”

Scott checked out the scenes overhead. Every available nook and cranny of the walls and the ceiling was covered in some Biblical scene or another—some that he recognised, and some that he didn’t. The press of tourists meant that they had to move fairly quickly through the church interior, and soon they were back out in the Square.

Rachel hooked her arm through Scott’s and laced their fingers together. “So, where to next?”

“You’re the tour guide,” he said, and she grinned a little. “True. How about a tour of the clock tower? One should be starting soon. We can get a good view of San Marco from up there.”

“Sounds good to me,” Scott said, wondering if the clock tower would provide him with a good spot for a proposal. Surely a quiet spot overlooking all of the city would be romantic enough for that?

Unfortunately, the stairs were steep and crowded with tourists, and their tour guide kept up a brisk pace as he told them about the history of the construction of the piazza, the Basilica, Doge’s Palace, and the clock tower itself.

“The clock tower, Torre dell’Orologio, was designed by Maurizio Codussi and took ten years to complete, beginning in 1496 and ending in 1506. The wings were added later on, perhaps by Pietro Lombardo. You can see the original workings of the clock, which was wound manually until 1998; now it runs off of electricity.”

The tour ended on the roof, with a magnificent view of St Mark’s Square. Scott didn’t regret the tour for a second, but with all of the people, there was no way he could propose. Rachel was enjoying herself though, even if she was distracted by all of the chatter around her. She conversed for a moment in Italian with their tour guide and turned back to him. “He says that if we love the view here, we should go to the Campanile. It’s the tallest building in the city.”

“Off we go, then.” Scott let Rachel lead the way as they completed the tour and bounded away to the Campanile, where they climbed yet more steep stairs to reach the top. The view, however, was reward enough: at 325 feet tall, the bell tower offered them an amazing view of the city, even more so than what they had seen from the other one. All of Venice was visible from here, and even Rachel stopped talking long enough to be enchanted by the sight.

Snow dusted the rooftops of Venice like powdered sugar. Holiday decorations could be seen strung in streets and along canals; here and there a brightly lit Christmas tree was visible. From up so high the people of Venice looked like brightly coloured ants, rushing here and there in the streets. Scott’s stomach rumbled, and he realised it must be dinner time; many of those people below were likely rushing off to eat.

With this in mind, he and Rachel descended the steep flights of stairs back to street level and set off in search of a restaurant.

It wasn’t hard to find one, and once they were settled in and dining on appetisers of fried meatballs and calamari, waiting for their Secondi to appear, Scott started to relax. This day certainly hadn’t lent itself to the perfect romantic moment, but it was only Friday afternoon; he had two more days to make it happen. He’d already sought out a charming restaurant and a gondola ride, both of which he imagined would be perfect settings for a proposal that would surprise and delight Rachel.

The waiter arrived with part of their order, and she chatted to him in Italian. Scott sipped contentedly at his wine. Rachel was having a blast, and he had to admit that he was having fun, too.

He just needed to be patient and wait for the right moment.

In a city so famed for romance, surely it couldn’t be far away?