Chapter One
“As you can see, there are four distinct colors of marble used in the columns on this section of St. Mark’s Basilica. The marble was brought here from as far away as Constantinople and Alexandria. Imagine not having a truck and moving one of these columns from Los Angeles to Seattle.”
Artie Bryson drew a deep breath, ignored the trickle of humidity-driven sweat at her temple, and directed her group’s attention to one of the pillars at the grand entrance of the Basilica di San Marco. “The pattern of the marble inlay seems almost chaotic. This Byzantine style seems especially bizarre when compared to the systematic pattern of the Doge’s Palace next door.”
There was another forty minutes to her customized walking tour of Venice, and her family of charges ranged from the parents’ great interest in seeing the “important” sites, the teens’ longing looks at gelato carts and espresso cafés, to the overheated and bored little girl’s clinging. The child’s legs were half as long as everyone else’s so she walked double the steps, and everywhere she turned there was a backpack or elbow aimed at her head. Family dynamics were part of the challenge of being a tour guide in a city with no cars, little shade, and filled beyond capacity with tourists all wanting to see the same sights.
It had been Artie’s long-cherished dream of a daily commute over waterways, bridges, and narrow streets that had been there for seven centuries or more. After five years living the dream, two of those spent in stages of lockdown and deep national grief, she wasn’t springing out of bed with quite the same enthusiasm. And it wasn’t solely because the crowds and humidity of peak summer season were nearly unbearable.
But what else was an American with an almost-doctorate in Italian Literature to do? Her other choices had been the life of an adjunct, cobbling together a living by working at four or five different campuses in a single week. Or, to quote her mother the last time they’d spoken, a “real” job, and do real work for once.
As she continued her well-rehearsed speech — pointing out the contrasting colors of marble, the geometric patterns of inlay, and the variation in the number of leaves and stars throughout, all with their own symbolic meaning in the Byzantine fashion — she reminded herself that she was living alongside Art, capital A.
Perhaps living near Art had made its glory a little less uplifting? At least she was living in Venice, she consoled herself. Every day she took a vaporetto along the Grand Canal, passing buildings that Dante and Titian had also admired. Working the high tourist season from May to September meant that when acqua alta came she could simply stay home, where she was warm, dry, and three floors above the flooding. She could spend six days a week, if she wanted, at the Biblioteca dell’Accademia with a scholar’s access to the original texts, letters, and drafts of the wildly original, scandalous, and vastly talented Veronica Franco, who was the subject of her dissertation.
From la Franco she’d moved onto Dante. She was on her second reading of The Divine Comedy in a sixteenth century handwritten copy, turning the pages with a gloved hand. The birth of the Italian language was at the tip of her fingers.
She waved her group ahead of her as they reached the Ateneo di San Basso, glad to have them all out of the sun. “If we check our backpacks here, we can go directly into the Basilica without waiting in the line.” Artie escorted them into the tiny church-turned-school foyer where they exchanged backpacks for claim tickets.
The little girl immediately perked up, and Artie hated to drag her back out into the sun. The piazza was encrusted with tourists, making it a typical late August day. Her skill at navigating the crowds was what the family had purchased, and she at least knew how to minimize the chance of heatstroke.
“The American republic wasn’t the first,” she began as they trooped back to the Basilica entrance. “Rome tried it, and so did Venice. Venice elected a Doge, whose job it was to continue the flow of goods and money, to enforce laws, and administer taxes for public benefit. Repair canals and streets, shore up defenses, provide hospitals, keep factories from dumping waste into the drinking water. These are things we still expect governments to provide for us.”
The father blustered about taxes being too high, finishing with, “Next they’ll be telling me how many times a day I can breathe!”
Unwilling to talk politics, especially in this heat, Artie turned the comments aside with a smile. “There are historic letters from the Doge’s records that make those very same complaints. Some things never change, do they?” Without giving him a chance to comment, she shepherded them quickly toward the promised cooler air inside the basilica. “Here at the Piazza San Marco, we see that the law and the church are very close together, but neither answered to the other — something many modern governments still struggle with. The Patriarch of Venice answered to the Pope and Rome from this magnificent church. Next door, the Doge answered to the wealthy merchants from his equally magnificent palace. We’re going to see that next.”
By the end of the day Artie was sticky, footsore, and slightly dehydrated. Undecided how to have her evening meal, she paused in the Campo Bortolomio, which was a few twists and turns away from the intensely crowded Rialto Bridge zone. She was not interested in eating at the Hard Rock Cafe or anything like it.
Her apartment, though spacious and well-ventilated by Venetian standards, meant three flights to walk up. It was not air-conditioned. She would only welcome being there about an hour after sundown, when a breeze fed by the Adriatic Sea would stir over the vast bay that regulated Venetian weather.
She was about to turn toward a favorite trattoria on the Calle del Lovo when she almost knocked over an older woman wobbling her way out of a corner bodega. Used to the histrionics and ploys of local beggars, Artie stepped back with her hand over her zippered pocket that had her wallet and keys, but she quickly decided her alarm was unwarranted. The woman’s white hair stuck to her forehead under her sun hat, and she leaned heavily on a cane. Her pallor was so real she was almost blue at the temples.
The woman asked of a passerby, in a thick accent of Scotland, “Do you speak English?” Getting a wave of no she asked again of a youth with a book bag and received the same response. The cane wobbled and Artie stepped into the woman’s line of sight.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
“Oh! Oh, you are a dear. I’ve got separated from my group and I canna seem to think my way out of a paper bag in this heat.”
“You’re dehydrated,” Artie said, recognizing all the signs, especially the odd befuddled inability to remain focused on Artie’s face. “Stay right here a moment.”
She popped into the bodega and bought the old woman a bottle of cold water and asked for a tissue. She thrust the change from her five-euro note into her pocket and went outside again.
“You should drink all of this, but not too fast.” She twisted the bottle open, tipped a small amount on the tissue before handing it to the woman. “If I may? I always find this refreshing.”
When the woman didn’t shy away, Artie pressed the wet tissue to the back of the woman’s neck.
“Oh, that’s lovely, dear. Thank you. You’re a blessing.”
“Where are you supposed to be, ma’am?”
Finishing a hearty swallow of water, the woman grappled in the book bag that dangled from one arm. “I have a map.”
Artie had just bent her head to examine the markings when the woman raised her head in response to a called out, “Margaret Ann! What are you doing all the way over there?”
“What are you doing all the way over there?” she shouted back. To Artie she added, “There is my better half. She never gets lost, so forty years she’s been telling me where to go, an’ that’s the truth.”
The old lady shuffled toward an only slightly younger iteration of herself, right down to matching sturdy shoes and canes. “This young woman found water. I’m about done in.”
Artie followed Margaret Ann to make sure the two of them were oriented.
“Thank you, dear, for finding Margaret Ann. I should put a bell on her,” the companion said. She did indeed seem to be weathering the heat better.
“Hang on to that bottle,” Artie suggested. “You can fill it at any well in any campo — the squares, courtyards, like this one. They’re nearly all built around a well. The water is safe to drink, and often quite cool. If for nothing else to wet your wrists and neck. But I drink it all the time.”
“You Yankees are a tough lot,” Margaret Ann pronounced. “See, Caroline? A helpful American.”
Familiar with the not entirely high opinion that many people around the world had of Americans, Artie didn’t take offense. They chatted for a few moments, and the two ladies told her if she was ever “up to Ayr” to look them up, everybody knew them, just ask at the greengrocer.
Chuckling to herself, she jangled the loose coins in her pocket as she decided she really needed to get into some air-conditioning herself. The trattoria was open air. It would be worth it, she decided, to forge through the crowd at Rialto to take the steady, slow-moving vaporetto toward the rail station. A few short stops would drop her at San Marcuola, near the casino.
She nearly gave up when the press of people closed around her near the famous bridge, but the lure of air-conditioning had taken hold. Once she made it onto the insanely crowded water-bus, she found a bit of shade. Languages from all over the world poured around her ears as she sipped from the water bottle she took with her everywhere. When the humidity was so high it was almost impossible to drink enough water.
A few euros would buy her a lite meal in the casino’s ristorante and gift shop, and she knew where to sit that was close enough to hear the music from the cabaret. Both were located at the courtyard entrance to the historic casino building. She’d been in the casino as a tour guide, of course, but its opulence and intense high-roller, high-money atmosphere was not for the likes of her otherwise. The more casual courtyard would be the perfect respite from the heat, along with the “piatto da cucina” she knew to ask for. The kitchen’s daily special of bread and sliced meats, with fresh figs or sliced pear, was plated for locals only, with a price lower than any dish on the printed menu.
She exchanged a friendly wink with the server who tended the wine bar, whose company had been welcome until breakfast once, but with no strings whatsoever. There was a hint of interest in Giorgia’s eyes for later tonight, but it was simply too hot. Artie declined with a minute ripple of fingers — one of those ineffable Italian gestures that summarized an entire conversation of pleasantries.
She ate the meal slowly, stretching out her time in air-conditioning last as long as possible.
The little ristorante was crowded with a waiting line by the time she finished the last of the figs and drained a second glass of chilled sparkling water. It was time to go. She settled her bill and made her way to the covered courtyard, mentally girding herself to go out into the sun again.
As she settled her satchel along the front of her torso, she heard fresh music coming from the cabaret. The prime of the evening had been occupied by an eternally popular ABBA tribute act that had made her meal all the more pleasant. This music was a softer, bluesier sound that was purely American. Or sounded so to her ears.
Beguiled by the unexpected melody, she decided she could afford the glass of wine it would cost her to listen. She realized she was homesick, something she hadn’t thought possible.
The moment she crossed the threshold into the cabaret, her gaze was drawn to the vocalist. Her dark brown skin shimmered with red highlights in the stage lights. A glittering blue dress wrapped around her shapely, ample body to frame broad shoulders. Dark gold cornrows ended in neon orange, lime, and raspberry beads that sparkled as she swayed to the music she made. Her hands danced over the keyboard as her voice rippled like cool water on marble stones.
Artie found a seat at a tiny table without taking her gaze off the singer’s face. Thick, red lips nearly brushed the microphone in front of her. Large, dark eyes widened and flashed as the melody rose and fell.
It took a moment for Artie to realize that the woman was singing “Take Me Home, Country Roads.” The transformation into a minor key filled the words with longing and loneliness. It seemed an odd piece for a casino cabaret, but it segued seamlessly into a more upbeat “Walking in Memphis.” By the third piece the singer had fully hit her stride with a saucy, sultry rendition of “Route 66.”
Artie was sorry when the set ended. There was no way she could stay for the woman’s next set at eleven o’clock. She had a tour tomorrow morning and ought to be home trying to sleep by then. The cantante had a full, sensuous figure, though, and her parting smile was lively and genuine — and abruptly very tempting.
Another hour spent gazing at it while under the spell of that lush voice would be restorative, a small voice inside argued. But the prospect of an early morning followed by kilometers of walking after only a few hours’ sleep was dismal enough to have her regretfully leaving a five-euro note in the jar on the piano and walking home at last.
The heat of the day had diminished to a tolerable level. The expected breeze had come up as well, making the fifteen-minute walk to her apartment on the Rio Terà dei Biri almost pleasant. The family on the second floor, also her landlords, had had grilled fish and polenta on their balcony, or at least it smelled like that had been dinner.
The children were still playing a game on the landing and called, “Ciao, Artie!” as she passed them on her way to the third floor and its only door. Her apartment was a large, undivided attic room, save for the water closet in one corner, and she had thought it best not to ask if the owners had ever gotten the necessary permits for the heat and running water. Permits in Venice — it was a can of worms only a fool would open.
“Don’t forget Winona, Kingman, Barstow…” She dropped ice cubes from the tray in her tiny freezer into chilled sparkling water from the bottle in the icebox. Ice was a luxury, and she didn’t take it for granted. She woo-woo-woo’d her way from the utilitarian kitchen to the comfortable sofa that had been in the apartment when she’d arrived and would still be here when she left. Nobody moved furniture in Venice if it could be avoided.
Sitting down, legs stretched out onto the coffee table, felt wonderful. After a half hour spent on her laptop confirming and updating tour bookings, she was in a surprisingly good mood and decided on a cool bath before bed. She emptied her pockets onto the bureau next to the bed. They were full of the usual things from a day of touring — receipts for tickets, a gum wrapper, loose change, and a coil of folding money that had been tips from the group. She tucked the bills into the back of the top drawer to go toward the rent. The rent had become all the more reasonable when she’d offered to pay in cash. A little more cash than that had purchased her landlord’s Wi-Fi password.
As she scooped the coins into her change bowl, she realized that one she’d thought was a two euro at the bodega wasn’t ringed in silver. She looked more closely but couldn’t make out the country of origin. The face of the coin featured two figureheads, bent close together as if conferring. It was quite old, and rubbed shiny across the faces of the figures. It was possibly worth more than two euros.
In better light she might be able to discern its origins. She’d take it to the library the next time she went, maybe, and use one of the magnifiers they had on hand for reading tiny scripts. In the meantime, she’d keep it on the bedside table. It was definitely intriguing.
Her skin cool and clean, she finally curled up in bed and fell asleep humming bars of “Route 66.” In the morning the first thing she saw when she woke up was the coin, gleaming in the sunlight. It was so beautiful that she dropped it into the small, zippered pouch where she kept the key to her flat and headed out to the first tour of the day.
Karin Kallmaker –
The date is actually 12/23/2022. I backdated it so this entry would appear first for future visitors.
The winners have been chosen by a random number generator. You’ll all get an email from “StoreSprite” @kallmaker.com to the address you used to comment. It will have the coupon code for you to use to claim your download. If you don’t see the email, please check your spam folder!
Cynthia
Bev D.
Glenda
Lyn D.
Ruth S.
Congratulations!
Karin Kallmaker –
Thanks for dropping by! This is the place to enter the drawing for a free download of Velvet in Venice. Tell me what you’d like to experience if you went to Venice – or what you did if you’ve been there! Feel free to upload a photo.
This is Seafood Pizza with a squid ink crust we had on Murano Island. Definitely a first for me. The crust was quite salty and I wasn’t super enthused with the particular fish-sort-of-tang that the squid ink seemed to bring. The seafood, however, was sensational!
Karen Marquardt –
The closest I’ve come is staying at the Venetian in Las Vegas (not the same I know!). But I’d have to travel through the canals and eat fabulous food!
Karin Kallmaker –
Um, no, the Venetian is not the same thing. I tried my best in the story to describe just how it’s unique, but I think that Venice has to be experienced to be believed. Like on our second day I realized that there was no sound of cars. Anywhere. For a semi-urban dweller it was amazing.
Kristin Charles –
I would love to experience the architecture and all of the historical stuff.
Karin Kallmaker –
Venice is encrusted with it. Literally every courtyard has a history. Can you tell I want to go back?
Deb Hall –
Isn’t there supposed to be an amazing book shop in Venice..I’m sure I’ve seen pictures of it but cannot remember the name of it..but I would head that way first, then maybe drift down the canals with someone else doing the work.
Karin Kallmaker –
I think while I was there I didn’t see any bookshops. The library, however, is right next to San Marcos Plaza, and it’s glorious.
Julie –
For sure have a woman tour guide boat person take me through the canals and point out interesting things. Maybe I’d take a turn trying to maneuver the boat without hitting anything. And I think the houses/buildings are really colorful there, bright colors. I would love that, just walking around.
Karin Kallmaker –
Just walking around is truly amazing. Just walking over a bridge, or through a courtyard, it’s all wonderful.
Cynthia –
Just seeing the canals & city would be amazing.
Karin Kallmaker –
I thought it must be overhyped, not could be so completely and wholly unique – but Venice was breathtaking.
Myra Sloan –
I always enjoy exploring local foods when I visit. I would probably have tried the seafood pizza! I would love to see local landmarks, museums, and of course take a canal ride.
Karin Kallmaker –
Our canal ride was the public Vaporetto #1, which goes the length of the Grand Canal, then out to the Lagoon and starts the loop again. Travelers get relatively inexpensive transit passes and it didn’t get old, getting on a boat to go everywhere.
Lana –
I’d love a romantic ride in a gondola with someone playing guitar live (no signing) and watching the beautiful houses along the way. Unlimited mimosas is a requirement.
Karin Kallmaker –
I think that would work for me too!
shannon –
I would love to take a gondola trip down the canals.
Karin Kallmaker –
That would be lovely on an autumn or spring day. Summer – bring a big hat and lots of sunblock!
Shay Coker –
I don’t get to travel much right now so for me books are my travel. But someday if I could make it there honestly I would want to see everything I possibly could!
Karin Kallmaker –
That’s a good approach!
Mercedes –
Take me back to Venice, darling.
Karin Kallmaker –
Venezia, que bella!
Maddy –
I’d want to take in Venice with all five senses, savour the sounds and sights and smells the city has to offer and see what locals suggest I check out over typical tourist destinations.
Karin Kallmaker –
If you ever go, find a walking food tour. It’s a great way to get an insider’s view and find places to eat in the neighborhoods away from the Grand Canal.
Maggie –
I’d like to see the canals in Venice. I’ve been to Italy very briefly when I was a teenager, but not Venice. I was literally in Milan for just some hours. There were strikes so our travel plans fell through. So it’s a country I’d like to see.
Karin Kallmaker –
So much history and the countryside moves at a different pace. I know someone who toured Venice and Rome, then spent five days in Tuscany just to chill out after all that. It sounded perfect.
Bev Davis –
I haven’t been to too many places, but Italy is definitely on my bucketlist.
In Venice I would have to go on a gondola ride – it’s the quintessential touristy thing to do! And food. . .did I mention food?! I would also try to find an element of Venice that is off the beaten path, trying to experience a uniqueness to their local culture.
Karin Kallmaker –
The food … The touristy places are full of pasta and heavy cheese sauces. Get away from them and you get fresh fruit, and homemade tomato sauces, and grilled vegetables with simple fish or chicken. It’s heavenly.
C –
When I was in Venice I bought one of the beautiful masks. I would love to go back when the Carnival is on. I would also happily return for the architecture too
Karin Kallmaker –
I was yearning for hand blown glass in a shop on Murano Island, but the luggage was already STUFFED.
GAIL –
I’d want to absorb as much of the history as possible, the art, architecture, mystery and romantic vibe. Walk wherever I can and enjoy the beauty of the bridges then take a canal ride.
Karin Kallmaker –
Yep, that’s all going to add up to a great visit.
Sloan –
We went to Murano and had a Bellini at Harry’s bar. We found the ghetto area very moving…
Karin Kallmaker –
Our hotel was on Murano which was perfect.
Cheryl H –
I’ve never traveled to Italy. I want to see the art and the architecture, experience the canals and history, and eat all the food. I think I would need a week or two.
Karin Kallmaker –
We were there for 5 days and it wasn’t enough. One of the ways I got in the mood was reading all the Commissario Brunetti mysteries by Donna Leon. They get at the complexities of Venice, and the struggles of a very old city in a modern world.
Christine Reid –
I would like to go to the carnival there
Karin Kallmaker –
Wouldn’t that be fun?
Carolyn –
My wife and I love exploring old cultures and architecture. Venice would be right up our creek. (Ha, ha.) But until a miracle happens and we can afford to go, we’d be happy to live vicariously through your writings.
Karin Kallmaker –
I’ll do my best to take you all around the world!
Lyn Denison –
I’d be wrapped in the fantastic photographic opportunities. Oh, and a gondola ride.
Karin Kallmaker –
I wanted to take a picture of EVERYTHING!
June –
Been there but not for long enough to really enjoy it. Would love to go back and stay a while.
Karin Kallmaker –
I hope you get to do so!
Shai –
Venice is all about the history and architecture BUT my partner is a lover of the food! We will no doubt leave 20 pounds heavier! 😉 (Aus/UK)
Karin Kallmaker –
Yeah, there’s the food. Wine. Gelato. Pastries…oh the pastries.
Karen –
Checking out the architecture and doing some sketching.
Karin Kallmaker –
Venice made me wish I could draw. Which I can’t.
Denise –
I would love to explore the city and see the historic sites during the day, then enjoy local cuisine and wine in the evenings.
Karin Kallmaker –
Many of the restaurants in the campos are open air and it’s truly lovely in the evening to dine and listen to a busker play Vivaldi or a fountain bubbling.
Glenda –
I’d love to tour the canals in a gondola, then see the historic sites.
Karin Kallmaker –
Everything in Venice is historic. If you go, make a list or you’ll miss one that you wanted to see. My big recommendation is The Frari.
Kathryn Klingerman –
We went to Venice in the mid-90s, armed only with our Frommer’s Guide. One of the things that I wanted to buy was a carnival mask, specifically comedy-tragedy, since I was/am a stage manager. We followed the map in the book, got totally lost wandering through a sketchy, boat-building warehouse-y area, then suddenly stumbled upon an amazing mask-maker’s shop. They had one comedy-tragedy mask, but it was exactly what I wanted!
Karin Kallmaker –
It’s so easy to get lost in Venice! OMG, how did anyone navigate the city by torchlight, for example?
Karin Kallmaker –
P.S. Love that mask!!
Penny Mabie –
I would love to talk with the city planners to hear how they are planning to protect the city what with climate change and rising seas. And of course gondola, architecture, walking, etc. I’m a bit of an infrastructure nerd!
Karin Kallmaker –
I gather that there is a great deal of talk about what to do. And then more talking…
Milena –
Would love to just to take a tour of Venice since I’ve never been and try some food. It would be awesome to even see all the buildings since they have buildings older than me!
Karin Kallmaker –
The buildings are endlessly fascinating. I wanted to take a picture of every single one.
Lorraine Rusnack –
I would like to just absorb the culture and people watch.
Karin Kallmaker –
It’s easy to do in Venice. Remain still and let the rest of the world go by.
Diana –
It would be fantastic just to be there in a city of canals and wonder at all they built and continue to maintain. The architecture and people would keep me enchanted for months!
Karin Kallmaker –
I definitely needed longer than 5 days!
Susan Anson-Briggs –
If I went to Venice I would take my wife for long romantic walks through the museums, take a tour of some wineries, enjoy gondola tours introduce her to the opera
Karin Kallmaker –
Sounds ideal!
Patty –
My wife, very Italian, would love the food. As for myself going on the gondolas. I just think it’s so cool to travel that way.
Karin Kallmaker –
It looks luxurious and romantic, that’s for sure, but oh – it’s spendy! My wife and I, being an old married couple, decided to dine well instead. 🙂
Karin Kallmaker –
I took this picture on our trip and was fascinated that these 4 fellows are navigating their boat up the Grand Canal standing up, but not in a gondola. They looked like they were training for a race. Check out the palazzos in the background!
Lynn Heilesen –
Oh to ride around in the gondolas as view all the fantastic architecture of the city.
Karin Kallmaker –
Venice is a treat for the eyes in all directions.
Ruth Simon –
I’d love to visit to see the museums and experience the food. I’d also like to find some of the storied artisans–like glassworkers and the like–to see what they’re working on.
Karin Kallmaker –
These are good goals!
Betsy Duncan –
Oh, boy! “Velvet in Venice” took me back…waaaay back! I had just turned 17 and was traveling with my mother and older brother throughout Europe in the summer of ’73. Venice was a stop for us and I remember climbing the stairs in Saint Mark’s Basilica. I was an athletic lass, but I remember that it was a rather difficult climb, especially given how cramped and narrow the spiral stairs were for those of us who dared to attempt the feat! I’m glad I did it, but swimming in the Adriatic was a much more refreshing and enjoyable activity to engage in on a hot August day! I loved Venice then and fell in love with it again as I read and reveled in the lovely romance, “Velvet in Venice”! I am so looking forward to following the love adventures of new characters in future tales from the Coin of Love Romance series! I’m already hooked!
Karin Kallmaker –
I didn’t climb those stairs! It was a zillion degrees and that was an easy “nope.” I’m so glad that the setting of Venice rang true for you. I wanted to give everyone who hasn’t been a way to feel as if they had.
Natalia –
I’m a bit of a foodie and I usually organize my trips around nice lunches and dinners. From that trip I remember a very nice burrata and some delicious duck gnocchi! And of course beautiful buildings and a really nice atmosphere!
Karin Kallmaker –
DUCK gnocchi? Oh my. Oh oh my.