Theresa started her day by going for an early morning walk in Venice. For some uncharacteristic reason I couldn’t answer the early morning bell.
She found the streets relatively quiet, and the air not too hot yet. The light was nice too. She watched the shop keepers getting set up for the day, and a handful of other tourists out for a morning walk too. Then for no good reason her Fuji camera stopped working. Above are the last images she captured with the camera before it died.
San Marco square was already starting to fill up with people. The sun was rising behind the basilica which made it very difficult to capture. The square was filled with pigeons because of these guys trying to get tourists to buy bird seed from them. The pigeons drove Theresa crazy. She likened them to flying rats.
After spending more than half an hour lost on her way to per San Marco, Theresa caught a boat back to the train station which was close to our hotel. The views were nice from the boat.
Our first joint venture that day was the island of Burano, famed for its vivid colors. This was our first introduction to Venice Mass transit - a far cry from the air-conditioned, spacious confines of our tour coach. The images below give some insight, but still seem sanitized when compared to memory. Theresa perched herself at the very front of the boat with a window view, and a sliver of fresh air, but not enough room to stand completely erect.
The public boat stopped first at yesterday’s destination, where we needed to disembark and walk to a second location to catch the Burano “bus.” The heat and humidity were kind enough to tag along. We found the shadiest pathway, and a couple of helpful locals showed us the turn.
Almost from the moment we arrived, the colors of Burano impressed and intrigued us, as they danced in and out of full sunlight. Finally, a functional purpose for this relentless radiance. By noon however, the cramped conditions of the water bus and the heat sent us diving under the nearest awning for lunch and refreshment.
Reduced to iphonography, we went on an unspoken quest for competitive contrasts. Along the way, we each attempted to be chameleons, as noted in the shots below. I think I won, with the aid of all the sweating.
As great as the color contrasts were, the reflection opportunities were pretty sumptuous as well. Which do you prefer?
Color contrasts prove more lively and more vibrant in direct sunlight.
The bell tower of the local church seemed to be askew, and we both wondered how long it had been in such a state.
By 3 pm, we decided we’ve had enough color, and more than our share of heat and humidity. A less cramped bus ride back to the Venetian mainland dropped us in an unfamiliar location. Thanks to a fortuitous stop for regrouping and a long look at a map, I managed to chart a course for home - one which passed by the Irish Pub of course. Those orienteering skills deserved a Guinness.