Light Day - Favorite Restaurant
or some reason we don’t quite fathom, For some reason we don’t quite fathom, the Monday immediately before Fat Tuesday is a light day. The crowds are certainly thinner, there are fewer costumes out, and there is no promenade.
Perhaps it is to give everyone a break before the big culmination. Maybe there’s a religious basis for it. Maybe out-of-towners had to get back to work.
Whatever, it’s a good time to hit the streets. I had been wanting to get out to the Academia/San Trovaso area — this was as good as opportunity as any. We do a quick run through San Marco for a few grab shots of whoever/whatever happens to be there, and then leisurely meander the calles gawking at the shops and snapping pictures here and there.
Twilight at the Academia Bridge is a perfect time and place for posing, with the Grande Canale and the duomo of the Santa Maria della Salute in the background.
We try to enlist the aid of passers-by in taking our picture, but one after the other, the framing is appallingly bad (see the “Photographic Challenges” appendix.) Finally, we spy a fellow who has some reasonably good equipment - we figure perhaps he might have a better eye for what we’re after. A bit of cropping after the fact, and the result is a pretty reasonable portrait of ourselves (presented upper left).
South and west of the Academia Bridge, in the large campo next to Academia itself, we discovered a large enclosed arena containing — a costume market!
This is good for killing at least a couple of hours. The costumes here are better than the ones in the tourist stalls. We note also they have capes like ours, available for 140€ and 110€ each. Ok, I paid a touch over for mine, but I’m glad I paid the cash price.
There is more of the frilly stuff here, too. Jabots, bautas, and the like. I try a bauta (the black satin piece that drapes under the hat), but it’s too lacy and it covers the mouth. It looks too much like a piece of religious clothing, so I opt out. I’ll stick with the scarf-cum-mantle. I try a Jabot, as well, but it’s brilliant white and doesn’t go well with my ivory colored mask. That’s out, too.
But this is the place to go for new costume shoppers. If we wanted to do something else in the future, or were to recommend a place to someone starting out, we’d definitely start here.
Rose is fixated on finding a prop. Ever since seeing the “Mistress of the Sea” costume with the “alter-ego” doll, she’s been eyeing articles to occupy her hands. At first, a walking cane seemed appealing, and they’re around town. But at 80€ to 200€, they became less appealing. I’d love a walking stick, but I can’t tie up my hands — the camera hand has to be free.
Next, she looks for a mask on a stick to work as an “alter-ego”. We stop in shops all around the Rialto, but don’t see anything that really works. I remember seeing some miniature masks like hers and suggest perhaps that might work, so we search the shops and find one. It’s a perfect miniature, down to the aura of gold feathers around the faux eye-mask. The only departure is the lips are red. It’s also a bit unweildy to hold — no stick, so she can’t hold it close, comfortably.
But, armed with a prop, we’re ready for the next onslaught of paparazzi.
I’ve noticed something else in our walks, now that my costume is more complete: other Casanovas are bowing, deeply and gracefully — with an elegent flourish of a gloved hand — as we walk by. I’m nodding in acknowledgement, but I realize that’s quite inadequate: In the real age, my less-than-enthusiastic response could be interpreted as impertinence, and I would likely be challenged and invited to prove myself on the field of honor, if not skewered or blunder-bussed on the spot.
Since my fencing skills are non-existent, and my inventory of dueling instruments is down, I need to work on my bow.
That means a trip to the glove shop, since bowing exposes my fingerless cycling gloves. They simply will not do. Fortunately, there is a very nice glove shop in Venice (no kidding…) and, with the separation of a few euros, I acquire a nice pair of thin unlined suedes that don’t hamper my ability to manipulate the camera. And they’re nice gloves. I can use them elsewhere.
I am much relieved as we return to the calle.
Dinner hour approaches and we’ve made reservations at our favorite restaurant in Venice, if it’s possible to have a favorite in only three visits. This is off the Rio Trovaso and is called, appropriately enough, the “Trattoria San Trovaso.” Off the beaten path, the prices are very reasonable and the dishes are varied and terrific.
Unfortunately, it’s a lot of other people’s favorite restaurant, so reservations are pretty much required, especially during carnevale.
Day three winds down quietly over plates of osso bucco (roasted lamb), pollo con crema e funghi (chicken with cream and mushroom sauce), and a semi-litro of chianti. As we dine, a group of ladies from the US — Texas, we think, judging by the volume of the conversation — blusters into the restaurant. They’re enjoying their part in the masquerade, and remain masked for dinner.
Dinner over, we pay our check and go to the cloak room to retrieve our — well, cloaks — and proceed to don our costumes. The room is visible from the group of ladies’ table, and they watch open-jawed as we progress. Finished, Rose departs and I follow, but — the ladies all have their cameras out. What to do, but bow in theatrical flourish with now properly-gloved hand over breast? They’re fumbling with the cameras — but they get it right and snap the shutters.
“Gratzi, signori,” they gush, in deep salutation, repacking the cameras.
Oh, to let them know — or to not let them know. That is the question…