After a hearty breakfast (see below) to start the day in the hotel’s garden-side dining room, I met the other travelers in my group for OAT’s Undiscovered Adriatic Small Ship Adventure.
Our tour leader, the wonderful, exuberant Marco (wearing one of his trademark hats in the photo below) led us to the nearby Piazzale Roma where we all boarded the vaporetto.
We got off at the Rialto stop, which is where Venice’s oldest (900-plus years old) covered market is located. We only had time to sample some cherries before we embarked on a morning walking tour, led by our local guide, also named Marco. Venetian Marco, or Marco II, was a true local, born and raised in Venice.
As you can see from his photo, tall slender Marco II, with his fitted sports jacket, soft loafers, and no socks, looked like he walked out of the pages of a glossy European fashion magazine.
Marco II set off at a brisk pace through the bustling neighborhood and across the famous Rialto bridge, which dates back to 1592.
I trailed behind as I was constantly distracted by the shop windows where colorful blown glass items were displayed. And the bakeries – oh, I wish we could have stopped for a cannoli, or two, or three.
During the course of our walk, we covered a lot of territory and saw numerous examples of Venetian Gothic architecture. We also stopped briefly in front of La Fenice, Venice’s famed opera house, built in the late 18thcentury. Maybe the next time I'm in Venice, I'll get a ticket to the opera.
Marco II was an excellent guide and he shared several interesting facts about Venice: the city is divided into divided into 6 neighborhoods, or sestieri, which means 1/6; the tide changes every 6 hours; the average depth of the Grand Canal is only 1.5 meters; and Venice has over 400 bridges.
When the top of the Campanile (bell tower) of St. Mark’s Basilica came into view, I knew we were approaching the most famous piece of real estate in Venice, Piazzale San Marco, or St. Mark’s Square.
The expansive square was even more jam-packed with tourists and vendors than I had expected, especially in front of the entrance to the Basilica. My tolerance for crowds is low and I was almost ready to flee. But I couldn’t come to Venice without going inside.
Of course, there was a long line of people waiting to get in. Fortunately, with Marco II’s connections, our group didn’t have to wait at all. Once I stepped inside, I realized that it was worth battling the crowds. The interior of St. Mark’s, with its gold, its mosaics, its soaring architecture, was breathtaking.
It was a relief to get out of St. Mark’s Square, but even the nearby streets, lined with eating establishments and souvenir shops catering to tourists, were crowded. Along with some fellow travelers, I was lucky to find a spot in one of the high-decibel restaurants. I ordered a Caesar salad with chicken and ended up with the strangest deconstructed version I’ve ever had. And yes, that’s bacon on the top.
In 1516, Venice’s ruling council (the doges) decided that Jews should once again be isolated. 700 Ashkenazi Jews from central Europe were relocated to a small island where foundries (geti) had been located in earlier times. With their German-influenced pronunciation, geti became ghetto. This small island, the world’s first ghetto, is now called Ghetto Nuovo. Not long afterwards, the community in the Ghetto Nuovo expanded with an influx of Italian Jews from Rome and the South who were experiencing antisemitism, and more German Jews, who were facing persecution.
In 1541, a number of Sephardic Jews (Jews of Iberian origin), who had been living in the Levant (eastern Mediterranean area), arrived. They were required to settle in what is called the Ghetto Vecchio, located right across a narrow canal from the Ghetto Nuovo. Another section of the ghetto, called the Ghetto Novissimo, goes back to 1633. Each group of Jews (German, Italian, and Sephardic/Levantine) built its own synagogue. The term used in the ghetto for synagogue is scuola in Italian or scola in the Venetian dialect. This is equivalent to shul in Yiddish or “school” in English.
When Jews left the ghetto, they had to wear distinguishing clothing. They were forbidden to be outside the ghetto at night. Christians were allowed to come to the ghetto and they patronized Jewish banks, doctors, and shops. Despite extremely crowded living conditions, the Jewish community grew and prospered. The 17th century is considered a golden age, when Jewish commerce and scholarship reached their highest levels. This came to an end in the late 17th century, when the economy declined and anti-Jewish feelings rose. In the 18th century, many wealthy Jewish families left Venice. The remaining Jews were forced to pay extremely high taxes, often resulting in bankruptcy.
With the arrival of Napoleon’s army in 1797, Jews were free to live anywhere in Venice. While wealthier families moved into other parts of the city, many Jews continued to live in the ghetto. Finally, when Italy was unified in 1866, the Jews of Venice received equal status. Italians elected a Jewish prime minister for the first time in 1910.
When Mussolini came to power and allied himself with Nazi Germany in the 1930s, the situation for Jews became dire. About 1200 Jews were living in Venice when the Germans occupied the city in 1943. Over 200 of them were transported to death camps. It was sobering to learn how the Jewish population of Venice has gradually shrunk over the years. It now numbers about 500 people, and only about 30 live in the ghetto.
On our walk towards the ghetto, we came across Stumbling Stones. Each one of these bronze plaques set in the sidewalk recalls a Venetian Jew who was killed during the Holocaust. You can see them in other European cities as well.
Signs indicated that we were getting closer to the ghetto.
First we visited the Campo (main square) of the Ghetto Nuovo. Today, you’ll find the Chabad center, a kosher restaurant, and the Museo Ebraico in the Campo. Unfortunately, the museum has not reopened since the pandemic. As a result of the overcrowding in the ghetto, the buildings that surround the square were high, up to 6 or 7 stories.
Also in the square, Marco called our attention to the former Banco Rosso, a Jewish-owned pawn shop that gave red (rosso) receipts to its customers. He told us that this is the origin of the expression “to be in the red.”
Crossing a small bridge to the Ghetto Vecchio, we entered the Campiello delle Scuole, a small square where two still functioning synagogues are located. The Scuola Spagnola (Spanish Synagogue) was established in 1550 as the center of worship for the Spanish and Portuguese Jews. It was rebuilt in the Baroque style in the 1650s. It holds services on a regular basis throughout the year.
The neighboring Scuola Levantina (Levantine Synagogue), originally serving the Sephardic Jewish community, is housed in a building that dates back to 1680. The Scuola Levantina has a limited schedule of services. We passed by the entrance to the Luzzatto Beit Midrash, a hall dedicated to Torah study, which is part of the synagogue.
I peered into a Judaica shop in the neighborhood and saw many familiar items.
A few doors down, I spied a kosher bakery. I’m always on the lookout for food and I was surprised to see hamantaschen, the triangular-shaped filled cookies usually associated with the holiday of Purim, which falls in February or March. I couldn’t resist buying a few. The chocolate ones were especially delicious.
On subsequent days in Venice, I continued to enjoy my free time by walking around the city. I learned to navigate by looking up at the signs posted on the sides of buildings that pointed me in the direction I wanted to go.
While I was out one day, I decided to visit Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari, which contains the tomb of the artist Titian.
Marco provided plenty of additional opportunities for us to enjoy our free time in Venice. When he suggested a visit to the workshop of Franco, an oarlock maker, I initially wasn’t interested. But I’m so glad I decided to go along to learn about this unique Venetian art form. Sitting in the oarlock maker's workshop, redolent of sweet-smelling sawdust, I was captivated by Franco’s presentation. He explained that each forcula (oarlock) is tailor-made for the individual gondolier.
The gondolier stands in back on the right side of gondola with his left foot in front of his right foot and uses his entire body weight, not just the arm, to row the boat. The flat-bottomed boat, designed for shallow water, measures a little over 11 meters (approximately 36 feet) long and weighs about 550 kilos (approximately 1200 pounds). The oar measures 4.2 meters (nearly 14 feet). With passengers onboard, the total weight would be over 1000 kilos, or 2200 pounds.
Here are some other details I learned: the gondola’s oarlock is like a car’s gear box; there are six different positions on the oarlock; the gondolier brakes by moving the oar to the front of the oarlock; the oar measures 4.2 meters (13 feet) long; the iron on the front of the gondola works like a sail; each gondolier owns two oars and one oarlock; it takes ten years of practice to become a gondolier.
When making an oar lock, Franco starts by taking the gondolier’s measurements. He personally selects the timber (usually cherry, pear, or walnut) he uses. After it’s cut, he lets it dry thoroughly, a process that can last three to four years. He then approaches the block of wood as a sculptor does. Franco estimated that it takes him 550 hours of work to produce a finished oarlock.
Not surprisingly, these custom-made oar locks are considered works of art and are consequently quite expensive, ranging in price from 1000 to 1700 Euros. I wasn't surprised to learn that oarlock making is a dying art form since very few young people want to learn this demanding craft. Both Franco’s father and grandfather were oarlock makers. Now, he is one of only four oarlock makers in all of Venice.
The knowledge I gained made our subsequent gondola ride much more meaningful. Seeing Venice from the gondola was a real treat. We passed by the now-familiar palazzos in the Grand Canal but our gondolier also steered into narrower canals where we got a first-hand look at the damage that continued exposure to flood water is doing to Venice’s fragile buildings.
On hot afternoons, Marco often led us to outdoor cafés where we stopped for cold beverages. At one of these cafes, I had my first Hugo spritz, a delicious and refreshing combination of elderberry flower syrup, prosecco, seltzer, and mint leaves.
He also introduced us to the Venetian custom of aperitivo, the way locals wind down at the end of the work day. You sip a drink, such as wine or an Aperol spritz, and munch on a variety of cicchetti. These are the Venetian version of tapas, miniature savory snacks, served on slices of crusty bread. Our cicchetti assortment included creamy bacalao, thinly sliced prosciutto, and tomato bruschetta.
Our group certainly ate (and drank) well in Venice at dinnertime. I have fond memories of our first group dinner, where we had a choice of a three-course meat or fish menu. I was delighted with my double fish appetizer of bacalao on toast plus sarde in saor, a typical Venetian dish of sweet and sour sardines. Equally satisfying was the main course of spaghetti con frutti di mare. Dessert for all was the ever-popular tiramisu. And of course, all the wine you could drink was included.
Believe it or not, there’s more to share about the time I spent in Venice. My next post will be devoted to our day trip to the islands of Burano and Murano.
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