Globus tour, June 14 - more of Venice

This man just turned red-hot glass into a blue vase!

[My blog's days are mixed up.  June 12, Breaking Away, is out of order and I don't know how to fix it.] 
June 14:  No luggage out today!  Globus bus to boat to the island of Murano for a tour of a glass-blowing factory.  We settled into some bleachers in the workroom (evidently this demonstration is a common practice), and watched an old man who has worked there since he was 11 years old.  He turned a red-hot blob into a vase that was cobalt blule, with a fluted huge lip, and long slim neck, and a bulbous base. 

Another man took a small amount of molten glass, also red-hot, and created a little horse that was aqua-colored inside and clear crystal outside.  Both of them were older men, but beyond them were younger men working individually.  So this strange craft does not seem in danger of dying.

This was followed, of course, by a visit to the sales room.  This large room was full of glass shelves with a multitude of brilliantly colored decanters, vases, pitchers, coffee services. 

Sales pitch in the glass-blowing factory

Multi-colored glass

The shelves were backed by mirrors, and large chandeliers hung over the table that ran down the center of the room.  Very pretty and colorful.  Some people bought sets with decanters or coffee service, for shipment home.   We have little or  no space for such in our small house, and we do not entertain on a grand scale.  I looked at the individual art pieces and then at the jewelry room   I could not resist a small bracelet made of glass and gold beads.  But I can only take so much of overpriced frou-frous.  So I went outside for a little walk along a canal.

Nicolas directed me down the quai, across a little canal on a sweet bridge, and into San Donato Church to see the mosaics.  The church seems to be notable for the mosaic stone floor - -

mosaic floor

covered in very geometric patterns in many-colored triangles, squares, rectangles, with a few that depicted something more material - - like a rooster.  It was lovely to be in this quiet and empty church, by myself for a few moments.  I just needed to stretch my legs, but also to rest my mind.

Ceiling of a staircase.

Back on the boat toward Piazza San Marco, where we met the local guide, Loradona.  She guided us through the Doge's Palace.  This palace is full of staircases of great magnificence, many rooms with wonderful paintings on the walls and ceilings by Veronese and Tintoretto, no place to sit, huge number of other tours all with "whisper" devices round their necks.  It was a little overwhelming.  And from the Great Hall of the Doge, we then headed down a tiny narrow low-ceiling stair to the claustrophobic passage leading across the Bridge of Sighs.   This is the place where prisoners were led from the court where they were sentenced to the prison from which, if they were very fortunate, they might someday return. We walked through that prison, a horrible place with narrow corridors, huge bars and heavy small wooden doors to the cells.  I did not like it at all.   One fellow, Fred, I think, was so overcome that he pushed through ahead of all of us to escape.  Finally, we crossed back over the Bridge to the Doge's Palace, down a very lovely spacious staircase, and exited.  This put us in a small courtyard next to the Basilica of San Marco, next stop on the tour.

A courtyard next to the Basilica

Once inside the Basilica, I found again beautiful floors of small colored stones in geometric patterns, like those I'd seen before on Murano.  The building is centuries old and its floor so worn by centuries of footsteps that the floor is no longer level but sort of wavy and uneven.  Loradona was very happy to see that the lights were on; on for thirty minutes and off for thirty minutes, I believe she said.  With illumination we could see the gold-highlighted mosaics that cover the ceilings, the domes and the walls.  However, no stopping at all, ropes to keep us in the aisles, just go, go, go.  To be rushed through a magnificent church of the size and fame of San Marco, with entry restricted only to thosse who pay an admission fee, was disappointing in the extreme.  Not at all like France, where entry to churches is not restricted.

An afternoon at leisure in  Venice.  So off we went, Joe and I, to find the Dalmatian Scuola, officially called the Scuola San Giorgio degli Schivoni.  This took a long time, with many wrong turns, especially one that was less than 100 feet from the building.   We finally got it right, waited a bit for the 2:45 pm re-opening (after lunch).  A woman with keys opened four locks; two were antique with great large keys; two more were modern.  Inside the walls had paintings that each told a story.  St. George battled his dragon.  Next painting, he led the dragon into town on a bridle.Then my favorite:  St. Jerome who had tamed a lion by removing a painful thorn from the lion's paw.  The painting depicted the saint leading his lion into town and all the monks in their blue and white robes were fleeing in terror, climbing trees and stairs to escape the beast.  

St. Jerome and the lion, painted by Carpaccio

A wonderful painting - a bit like a modern-day graphic novel in one frame.   I think we spent maybe a half an hour looking at and talking about them all.

Before we found the Scuola, we passed a Chinese restaurant.  It smelled good.  It was half-full with Asian diners.  It was not expensive.  We were hungry.  So we had  soup and eggrolls and spicy cabbage in the heart of Venice.  And they had lemon soda and ice to pour the soda over.

At some point I left Joe and went looking for the little park I'd seen from the lagoon, with trees, shrubs, benches.   It was full of young teens taking up most of the red benches.  Italian teens act much like those at home:  travel in groups,  mostly boys with boys, girls with girls; and with cellphones everywhere. 

There are no benches along the quai.

The entire quai along this part of the  Grand  Canal is crowded with kiosks that sell all sorts of souvenirs:  teeshirts, hats, Carnival masks, keychains, mugs, beaded bracelets and earrings and necklaces, umbrellas of lace, umbrellas with images of Venice.  And lots of people, young, not-so-young, and old.  It reminded me of the Midway at a county fair, but without the yelling and noise.  What would it be like in November, without all the summer visitors?

At the boat dock we were to meet Nicolas beneath the green clock.  It was a funny sight.  Everyone was there, but they were all crammed down a narrow, shady, breezy passageway.  The wide quay was too exposed, very hot, very crowded.  While some had bought glass back on Murano, the older West Virginia daughter was proud of her negotiation with an African streetvendor for purchase of a purse.  Bev from Australia had a white teeshirt that spelled "Venezia" in rhinestones.  I had bought amber glass earrings from one of the kiosks.

Another boat ride back to the bus, then a bus ride back to the hotel.  If I ever visit Venice again, I'm staying in Venice.  Too much travel time otherwise.  After dinner, Joe and I took a short walk through the neighborhood.  We washed some shirts and hoped they'be be dry by morning when the luggage was put out for another motor trip.