Venice, Ca'SAGREDO and HARRY'S BAR

I am so super excited.
Venice.
Mask ball.
Valentine's.
Harry's bar.
Gondolas.
Bellini.
Pasta.
...

Life is beautiful. Especially when in Venice. (or in the South of France)
Our plane is an early one, dreadful, but less annoying since the destination is VENECIA.


I was 'very busy' trying outfits all day yesterday, making up some sensual wear for the Venetian alleys.
Dressing up is one of my passions. Maybe I should have tried my luck in the Hollywood lane, at least I could dress up and get paid for it.
I guess, this train is long gone though, maybe I still have a chance to do granny dress up, but who wants to see that?
I got my xxl suitcase (Samsonite - black label vintage - by now looking very vintage) stuffed to the top with dresses, shoes, hot curlers, cheap jewels, gloves, hats, bags and a naughty variety of lingerie (from schoolgirl to kitten)...
Just in case.
My sexy mask from Zakynthos is packed separately -carry on - as not to break it.
By 6 we are out the door, in the taxi, high speed to the airport.
I get this feeling that I forgot something. I know this feeling and when it comes, it is always right.
At arrival I notice my carry on bag, with my Zakynthos mask, is missing.
It is still at home, at the entrance, just where I left it.
Oh well...


The airport is FULL today.
I have never seen it so busy.
Portugal has a holiday coming up and people are leaving for snow, sun, romance, carnival or who knows what.
Our plane is almost full too and I spot a few lovers, kissing and cuddling, inspired by the promise of unforgettable love in Venice.
A great book to read by the way, if going to Venice:
"The last Courtesan"


Approaching Venice, one wonders how the 'good-taste-Italians' let such ugliness grow around a masterpiece of beauty, like a cancerous disease. Mestre is the monster's name and it can only be described as a sad example of human growth. Or as Mestre is also called: "the ugliest place in the world". If this is true, I am not sure, as there are a few competitors on my list.
It must be humiliating though, to live next to "the most beautiful city in the world".
2 sisters. One pretty, one ugly. This never ends good.

Is this Venice?

Poor Mestre and poor people who must live there (since nobody can afford Venetian rents), but work in Venice. This is the scoop of modern Venice. It is almost like Universal City, a fake, a movie prop. The gondoliers, the pizza bakers, the receptionists, the musicians... they all head into the train, tired and exhausted late at night, only to return early morning, before the hungry needy tourists are up, to open the shutters and make believe that Venice is still alive.

Do I mind? Or am I happily fooled? I am fooled and my imagination repaints the facts into the sweetest fairy-tale truth. That's me, since there is not much I can do to change the way of Venice. Rising waters, humidity, bad smells, rats, pollution, tourist hordes, inconvenience (imagine the daily chores of shopping alone) and ever growing prices and up-keeping, who really can afford it, but a few fortunate, with pockets full of coins and an army of helping hands?
Venice is a beauty, a DIVA, a goddess, but an aging one. To keep her shine and smile she needs a lotttttttt of attention, love and maintenance. And a bank filled with gold.
The arrival terminal in Venice is just a mess. People, suitcases and lots of noise, we wait more than 45 minutes without any sign of our monster bags.
An announcement explains, that something, somewhere is not working, but is being fixed.
Italian style.
So we wait and watch the crowd.
After an hour the conveyor belt creaks into life and colorful treasure chests (black is still the choice of most modern travelers) appear, going round and round.
Like circus horses.
Where is my horse?
Where is Prince's stallion?
The belt screeches again and everything stops. The last traveling companions are heaved down and then we are left with emptiness.
No Samsonites.
No dresses.
No sexy underwear.
Just a huge line at the LOST&FOUND counter.
A war-painted, yellow broom hair Christmas tree (female, I think) approaches with a dangerous clack clack clack (poor heels), screaming and shouting and jumping the line.
Prince kindly asks her to step back to the end, waiting in line like everyone else.
Her nostrils do not seem to agree with this idea, and a dangerous huffing and tuffing starts, pulling her botox mask dangerously apart. I wonder is she will take off like a wild bull seeing red, or if the botox mask will snap and burst open.
Sadly the show stops here, as an airport representative pulls the botox-bull byside, calming her, with sweet promises.
We are next and the news doesn't look good.
No suitcase today.
Tomorrow, maybe.
I try to take destiny lightly, I have learned the hard way last year, so a delayed suitcase is nothing compared.
Just cloth. Just make up. Just shoes.
Ahhh, who needs it?
All I need is here!
My baby. My lip balm. My hair brush. And our hotel address. VOILA.


Venice is just a taxi ride away.
The day is glorious.
Warm and sunny and crisp, it seems to try to make up for our lost luggage.
It's succeeding.


We wait at the Quay and I feel strangely free without the weight of my suitcase.

Style-police where are you?

Our water-taxi arrives. My eyes caress the beautiful vision. Those taxis are just beautiful. Elegant and classy and utterly romantic.
My only dislike is the dress code of the modern taxi-captains. Unlike the gondoliers, who still sport the traditional stripy garments, the taxi-boys are dressed in Jeans, T-Shirts and baseball hats. Someone ought to complain to the Venice fashion police.
We are whizzed away in our luxurious aqua limo and I feel heavenly happy.
Venice here we come...


Our hotel is the Ca'Sagredo.
A newly opened boutique hotel, with pretty good reviews.
The Danieli, our usual preferred choice was fully booked, but one suite. (Let's not talk about the rates)

But for location, beauty, romance, elegance and all that stuff dreams (my) are made of, the DANIELI is it. Next time...
We arrive at a fabulous pink palacio, our hotel?

What a beauty!
I grin at Prince, my eyes shiny with pleasure. Beauty, you always touch me.
Ca Sagredo is a real surprise. A gem discovered.

We take the grand tour of this stunning palace (read more at the hotels website about the colorful history) and we are just awed. What a place. An what a room. Grand Canal views, airy and bright and the midday sun painting glittery images on the walls. I must be dreaming...

 room with a view...

Since Prince is a bit sleepy, I pull the heavy chair to the window and watch Venice's life unfold like a dramatical theater play. The sun is surprisingly strong and I bath in the golden warmth like a lazy cat.

Barolo, mhhhh...

Time to take a stroll and have some yummmy Italian fare... (and wine)

The seduction of the unknown...

 Death is always around

Johnny Depp in disguise...

It is a glorious day and the streets are bustling with people from all over the world. There is so much to see and I just cannot stop smiling. Venice, you are a my sunshine...
We lunch in a tiny trattoria (Trattoria dai Peochi) and fill up on Spaghetti Vongole, perfecto****
And then on to our fitting for the Grand Ball tomorrow. Oh, I can't wait!!!


Antonia Sauters' (famous party Queen of Venice) costume shop is Paradise for girls.

3 floors of dresses, coats, masks, shoes... I could live here!
I am hushed upstairs, where an American student is looking for dresses in my size. Looks like, I am a bit late for my dream creation, as there is not much choice left in a 36. Megan, who is from San Francisco and here to fulfill her life-dream of working just once for one of Antonia's ball (wow) is trying hard to find something that pleases me.

A sexy 20's number? NO! (I prefer something more historical)
The ball's theme is 7 sins and the dress code goes from 15th century up to the swinging 20's.
No 20's.
I now have to choose which century. Some era has the fashionable style, where dresses sport huge side-airbags (also usable as armrests), others have the bottom-airbag and others an all -rounder.
I am lost. So Megan starts pulling some numbers and like a BARBIE doll I am getting dressed.
Luckily Prince loves to watch and instead of getting impatient, gets excited like a little boy. He is really one rare breed.I find a blue satin dress (all-rounder) which I love, but Prince finds it a bit too PRINCESS.
Shame, since I feel very Cinderella in this one.
An orange side-bag vision gets thumbs down from Prince and Megan seems lost for other options. Prince decides to start digging himself (Megan is not excited, but cannot resist MR. CHARM) and so he disappears in a mountain of dresses and surely returns (some time later) with a dream creation, all flowers and gold and the biggest naughty smirk on his face.
" I took it off the window doll. She has your size. I know. I could feel it."
He just has undressed the window doll!?
Goshhhh, what a pervert!
Megan tries to protest, but a look - THE LOOK - from Prince and she starts dressing me again.
This is it.

This is going to be my gown. It is lovely...  (proof in images tomorrow)
Thank you my Prince.
And now it is time to find his matching version. Much easier for boys, for some reason...

The heavy costumes (and heavy price) will be delivered to our hotel and we make our way to the mandatory first dinner at HARRY'S BAR. Bellini heaven and people watching, a must for every Venice visit. A great read by the way, the making of Harry's.
And with that, a few Bellinis and  the infamous Venetian liver dish we say GOOD NIGHT from Venice...


PS: I will for sure sleep like a Princess in his Palacio chamber of ours...


TRATTORIA dai PEOCHI
simple Italian fare
Cannaregio 2232
Venezia
+39 41 721 555


Harry's Bar
www.cipriani.com
Sestiere San Marco, 1323
Venezia
+39 41 528 5777


Dress to IMPRESS!


Harry's Bar is a bar; it began as one. It offers in some ways the very essence of the cafe society that once played so large a part in the affairs of Europe. It is not that one would normally go into Harry's just for a cup of coffee, though some people do; but the atmosphere of the restaurant, the warm immediacy of it, the company always of people who know each other, the ease of converse, the somehow knowing attitudes of the staff — all these add up to the club like feeling that all the best 
European cafes possess.