By Tobias Vaughn
The first thing I learnt when I arrived in Venice is that the locals have this perspective too. Only the attitude is relevant to: how can I make these tourists pay more money? And so it doesn’t take us long after our arrival to find this out. When we arrive at our lodgings which are relatively affordable for Venice we are told we have to pay extra because we don’t have a print out of our reservation. He’s got our names and we’ve got our ID. We’ve got records of conversations we’ve had with the owner of the lodgings (presumably him) but clear proof and common sense proves no match for a piece of A4 paper. We argue but after he says he could legally throw us out we decide not to push our luck. Sometimes it’s not worth arguing anyway. Venice in Spring feels pretty incredible. It’s amazing just to wander around the relatively suburban Cannaregio district, with it’s lines of colourful clothing hanging between narrow waterways, and look out from the edge of the city at the bay of Venice. The weather’s warm enough for a t-shirt (unless you’re Italian) and soon it’s time to eat. 
Our first evening meal was a lucky find. The labyrinthine centre of Venice with it’s disorientating webs of passageways can be daunting with a map, and unnavigable without to a visitor. Just when we expect to be held to ransom for a dog’s dinner by some mustachioed conman, however we come across a tiny square. It’s serenely quiet, when only moments before we’d been carried along in a bustling river of tourists… The empty square is half covered by a small row of charming, candlelit tables, under an awning. It’s a good spot. Though Restaurante Pizzeria Malibran sounds like the sort of mouthful you may want to forget, it’s a good pizza at a cheap price, and a nice atmosphere, right in the centre of Venice. Away from the district of San Marco with it’s breaktaking square and architecture replete with Venetian bling, there’s much to see and do. A tried and tested, watery adventure in Venice can be had on the water buses, which ferry you up and down the Grand Canal, and can also take you beyond the main landmass to surrounding islands. This was recommended to us by the excellent tour guide who shortly after we followed for a few sun stroked hours, filled with fun facts. A tour comes highly recommended from me, but be sure to eat before you join up, if, like me, you can go a bit funny when you don’t eat for a few hours… The next day, too busy in our stride for breakfast we head back to San Marco, to visit the Basilica; an insane edifice, filled with the medieval booty of the super rich. It’s very impressive and a little kitch. After we stop next door at the Doge’s Palace for another tour, this time of the hidden areas and secrets of the palace. Here we get a glimpse of what it was like to be Casanova, the archetypal stud of medical times, as he spent four years of his life imprisoned here in various small, oppressive rooms. After two escape attempts finally he was released. That’s all well and good for Casanova but I’m looking at the clock furiously, the minutes are fading fast for our lunch slot at the fantastic, and reasonably priced restaurant I’ve picked for lunch. But, like Casanova, I remain at the mercy of a Venetian until the tour ends. By now I’m beyond hangry and have entered a state of somewhere between voracious fever and religious vision as I stare at the gigantic, sprawling religious scenes depicted in paintings the size of house fronts on the interior of the palace. Outside it’s dreamily warm and breezy, as we drift around without a lunch reservation after normal service. We wander from terribly overpriced restaurants to cichetti places down what now start to resemble (in my delirious state) secret passageways, where shutters and doors are slammed in our faces. I think back with uncomfortable fondness to the strawberry ice cream I had at Gelataria Nico earlier, pulling out my phone to find the picture I’ve taken, before licking the screen. My resolve stiffened, we make a final effort into a square, only to realise this is exactly where we’d been half an hour before. Time is circular in Venice. That was the end of the trip and although I haven’t been on holiday since, it was a journey that’s stayed with me. I was thinking that if it’s true, what they say about time, and that the same things will happen over and over, time and time again, then we’ll relive any good holiday memory forever.
