VENICE WITH LOCALS
After three days of wandering aimlessly
around Venice, I met up with my hosts,
who showed mehow the Venetians eat.
We stepped out of the train station in Venice and were immediately swallowed by a sea of people. Our group was twenty strong—part of a family reunion, though not my own. I had been invited by a friend to join her on a trip to Italy, where we would visit her relatives in Bassano del Grappa, a town about an hour from Venice.
We pushed our way into the crowd, and before long, I was swept along by the current of bodies moving through the narrow streets. Suddenly, a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me sharply aside, pressing me against the wall of a nearby building. I instinctively tried to pull away—until I saw it was Juan-Carlo, my host in Bassano, his grip firm on my arm.
There were 80,000 people in Venice that day—a record-breaking crowd in a city already bursting with tourists.
“Vamos,” he said simply, guiding us into a narrow alley away from the crush. We wound our way through quiet backstreets and alleys, crossed bridges, passed through a small park. Gradually, the crowd thinned. I had spent the past three days getting lost in Venice, relying on a paper map and a phone that always seemed one step behind. But Juan-Carlo and his wife led us with ease—no map, no hesitation—straight to the Jewish Ghetto.
VENICE GALLERY
We paused outside a cozy restaurant with a chalkboard announcing “Cicchetti e Aperitivi.” We took a seat at one of the outdoor tables, and soon our drinks arrived. I had ordered an Aperol Spritz, mostly out of curiosity, not quite sure what to expect. But when I took my first sip, I was hooked. The crisp, golden-red drink was a revelation—like liquid refreshment on a hot, bustling day. I’m not usually much of a drinker, and definitely not a fan of drinking during the day, but Italy had a way of making exceptions feel like the right thing to do.
Soon after, trays of cicchetti—small, open-faced sandwiches—were set down in front of us, each one topped with salmon, grilled onions, smoked fish, cured meats, and heavenly cheeses. It was another delicious layer of indulgence. With our appetites partially satisfied, we set off again, winding our way deeper through Venice’s labyrinth of streets. I kept falling behind, unable to resist pausing to take photos or admire a particularly stunning view. We wandered from bacaro to bacaro—Venetian taverns tucked into corners of the city—eating and drinking our way through one of the most unforgettable places I’ve ever visited.
The photos above show some snapshot of Venice; simply scroll through to see a glimpse of the city through my eyes.
The photos below show some of the tasty bites we had along the way.
CICCHETTI GALLERY
