As I arrive in Italy, the land of Ciaos, Bella and Tutti,where the well dressed men sip their espressos at coffee bars and the ladies elegantly strut their designer shades and handbags. Before leaving the airport you become aware of the beauty, style and wonderful culture of this little Versace Boot shaped country.
The cold crisp air of Venice slaps you on your cheek just to say "Ciao Bella!" "Allora" I greet back, ecstatic to see this amazing place.
Venice, the floating city, the city of love, one of the most visited cities in the world with over 50,000 visitors daily, has become the ultimate location for falling in love, being in love and celebrating new love. The rich history of Crusades and battles,Spice and Silk Trades and the birthplace of the great Antonio Vivaldi adds to the romance and perfect architecture surrounded by the Venetian Lagoon and Adriatic Sea.
Exploring the city is a walk in the clouds as every shop, building, cafe and even tourist looks so perfect you would think they are part of the show.
We start our exploring with an early dinner at a little restaurant called Pedrocchi, invited in by a charming waiter dressed in a tuxedo and bow tie. Italian vino to accompany real Italian food in real Italy- a dream come true!My Siciliana pizza arrived, elegantly decorated with plump black olives, which I imagine are from Tuscany, on the thinnest crispest base that crackles with each bite. The lasagne is a no-fuss, perfect square of rich beef ragu and lasagne sheets. Now I realise how South Africans, Americans and all fast food "Pizza Pasta" joints have completely missed the plot on Italian food... We put every possible topping on a thick bready base, kill it with cheap mozzzarella and sometimes even cheddar. Lasagnes are over-cheesed, swimming in oil and bechamel and usually house some lost looking peas and diced carrots. Pasta is overcooked and the sauce sometimes drowns the pasta. An Italian would weep at the site! Especially when you dare cut your spagetti with a knife!!! Where is the Italian style in that?
After my taste of Italy in this charming bistro, apparently established in 1882, we head towards the infamous Rialto Bridge. On the way, the pretty Italian men sell fresh and polished fruits and vegetables, and Chestnuts roasting in big black pots. I have never eaten a chestnut before and the only thing I know about them is the Christmas carol "chestnuts roasting on the fire... Now humming the song, I decide to buy some and give it a try. For 2 euro I buy half a brown bag of warm rich chestnuts. My Spanish friend teaches me to peel them and eat them and think I was born in a cave. The buttery, fat nut warms and satisfies and reminds me of butter brioche just out of the oven (without the cholesterol).
Standing on Rialto Bridge, you fall in love. The beauty and perfection of this wonderful place, the energy and lights, the music and the gondolas floating in the channels, and the magical thought that some of the best artists and performers have walked these streets...To cool my nostalgia I head for a good gelato shop. Not hard to find here as the dispalys of the hundreds of gelaterias are so mouth watering. I choose the biggest cone and fill it with a scoop of Tiramisu, a scoop of Staciatella, one Chocolate Cookie and a scoop of Mocha flavoured gelato. The creamiest, most delicately flavoured ice cream with the smoothness of Valentino's silk scarves makes other ice creams bow their head in shame. There is no comparison between a gelato and an ice cream. It is like comparing French fries to French wine..not the same thing!
In San Marco Square the great open square is filled with lovers strolling, children running with balloons, musicians performing classical pieces and Italian policemen looking very handsome in their tight and military uniform. Enclosed by buildings from the Renaissance and stories from the middle ages, San Marco Square is a magical place and I wish I never had to leave. Unfortunately my gelato is now finished and left us freezing on this beautiful autumn evening.No better thing to warm you up in Italy than a perfect Italian espresso accompanied by a glass of good Grappa! Sitting outside a tiny street cafe on the cobble stoned walkway with tourists wandering past, locals going about their normal life and the Venice Canal glowing in the moonlight, I cannot decide whether it is the espresso, the grappa or this magical city that leaves me with this warm tingling feeling.
The next morning has an icy wind and the sky is the bluest blue. We stroll through this sleeping city as it lazily awakes for a Sunday morning and the church bells call it's millionth call. The homes look too perfect to be real and we wonder whether they are for show, or if real people really live there. The washing lines flaunting freshly washed underwear, pretty flowers on balconies and chimneys sticking out as if to invite Santa Claus just look too picturesque to be functional. But as the inhabitants slowly awake, they are visible with their dogs, scarves and bicycles on the cobble streets going about ordinary Venetian life.
A last lunch before we need to say good bye and of course we opt for the Italian food at the prettiest street restaurant. I order a Canneloni- a classic Italian where pasta tubes are filled with a rich ragu. My friend orders a pizza with every cured meat available in Italy on top of it. My Canneloni is stylish, of course without the white buttery bechamel sauce the rest of the world kills it with, nor does it have a touch of mozzarella. Instead it is accompanied by freshly grated mature Parmegano cheese. Simplicity. The ultimate elegance. They must have invented the "less is more phrase".My al fresco pasta lunch in the sun in this beautiful town is ended off with a good espresso and then we silently and sadly leave this wonderland, bidding Ciao and wishing to return soon to fall in love all over again.
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