One port follow the next in quick succession and there is hardly time to access the Internet, never mind upload photos and write stories about these visits.
Today, a first sea day which of course is as rough as can be after almost two weeks of uninterrupted calm seas and summery days. So, photos and stories appear in no sequencial order...
A few photos of Burano, one of the many flat islands in the Venetian Lagoon in Italy.
 |
| The lagoon is so shallow, that only flat bottomed boats like this dare to venture out into the unmarked areas. The gulls are sometimes only ankle deep in water when wading around. |
 |
| One of the hundreds of channel markers in the lagoon guiding ferries and pleasure boats alike through treacherous shallows. Some islands only consist of an abandoned building of a long gone palace or factory. |
 |
| Street scene in Burano, a fishing village also famous for lace making. |
 |
| A few canals intersect the small island, which can be crossed in a few minutes. |
 |
| Despite all the tempting food aboard, one cannot resist a freshly baked original pizza with a glass of local wine |
 |
| Busy morning of supply deliveries in the fishing village and island of Burano |
 |
| Fishing boats and delivery boats tie up packed together like the proverbial Mediterranean sardines. Even DHL couriers deliver and pick up by boat - no other way to do it. |
 |
| AN example of the intricate hand made lace of Burano, it takes a whole village to make a piece. Stitches are so specialized that each lace make only completes some stitches, so a piece is completed after passing through many hands. |
 |
| Cafes, bistros, bars line the colourful streets of Burano |
 |
| The colours and shapes of bridges and buildings are mirrored in the calm canals |
 |
| Houses are differently coloured to facilitate identification. Front doors facing the canals are usually open but covered with an outside curtain to maintain privacy for resident families |
 |
| A scene begging to be painted at every turn of the canals, across every little bridge and from every little cafe |
 |
| Definitely quieter than Venice, where millions of tourists flow through narrow lanes without let up |
Not much luck with the fatal combination of SHAW Internet provider in Canada and Satellite Internet on the ship...most blogs uploads either drag out for ages or somehow get lost in mysterious cyber space.
But, for this one, I am in Italy again...
Instead of facing the never ending crowds at the main tourist attractions of Venice, one can take a number of Vaporettos, floating commuter buses, and head of towards Murano (famous for blow glass) and finish up in Burano (famous for hand made lace). So off I went, squeezed amongst commuters to Venice 'business' district in the first vaporetto from Plaza de Roma to Plaza Marco Polo. Once there, one walks over another bridge crowded with admirers of the Bridge of Sighs to the second vaporetto which carries passenger around the Gardini (lovely gardens where exhibitions and performances take place), past a number of sailing clubs and industrialized areas. One passes San Michele Island, a cemetery, all surrounded by high walls which are lapped by the waters of the shallow lagoon, where tombs honour famous names such as the Stravinsky's, Diaghilev, and Ezra Pound. Bones of the dearly departed are removed after a decade to make room for the newly dead. One vaporettes past the hospital where a dock serves as emergency entry for the motorized speed boat ambulances, and to another vaporetto terminal. This one is called Fondation de Nuove, a jump off point for the short ride to Murano, and the somewhat longer one to Burano.
One motors across shallows, where navigable channels are marked (some are one way only) to keep vaporettos and private shallow draft boats off the treacherous flats of the Lagoon which expand forever in all directions, with only the skyline of Venice and the surrounding built up island interrupting the vast flat watery expanse. Tourist overload is left behind, a few people travel to Murano to visit glass blowing foundries. The rest of us carry on to the tiny island of Burano, dominated by a leaning campanile (all the bell tower seem to be somewhat off the vertical due to shifting seabed and sinking pylons) of the local cathedral. It's a fishing village, small enough to walk from one end to the other within half an hour easy stroll. A couple of canals bisect the 'town', which is collection of small houses painted every imaginable colour. As some of these houses are almost identical to each other, the starkly different brilliant colours are meant to identify 'home turf' for the residents.
Life is laid back, not even the lace vending store push their wares. The main drag is the centre of 'activity' with open air cafes and restaurants spilling onto the pedestrian only street, and lace shops are tucked in between. Lovely lace so complicated and precise, that each artist specialises in a single pattern of the intricate knots. Many completed works represent days of community work, where a piece is passed from lace maker to lace maker before it is finished.
The colour palette of the little town would inspire any artist, photographer or painter. Houses are mirrored in the still canals, picturesque bridges arch from one quaint ally to another, working boats unload their wares, and fishing nets and laundry dry in the sun.
And Sun we had..perfectly warm and perfectly bright and perfectly wind-less.
