Italy, how I missed you!
After enjoying my first international solo adventure on the Heart of Italy tour a few years ago, I knew I would want to return and dive deeper into this vibrant country. So when I spotted a ticket to Venice for under $200 including all taxes and fees, how I could not resist? Friends and family had been raving about Venice for years, and with such consistent praise. The newest release of the Rick Steves Venice guidebook was released just months before I left and was the perfect companion for this leg of my journey.
After landing, I grabbed a bus ticket right at the luggage carousel kiosk and soon arrived at the train station to pick up a multi-day vaporetto pass. These water buses may take a little longer than walking, but after 20,000 steps a day, they are a Godsend for tired feet.
Pro Tip: Save yourself time by purchasing your bus ticket in the luggage claim area instead of waiting in line at the station outside
After quickly unpacking and freshening up, I set out on a cichetti tour, sampling small plates and local wines at cozy Venetian bars. The wines were delightful and lighter in alcohol than what we typically find back home. Our guide, Alessandro, kept us laughing with his tongue-in-cheek critiques of the “terrible, terrible” American wine and food compared to the high standards of Venetian cuisine. We ate, drank, and met new friends along the way—so much so that one of the couples invited me to join them for dinner the next night. Why not embrace the joy of meeting new people while traveling? We exchanged information and I quickly made my way back to change for my next experience of the night.
Alessandro ensures that you have a show with your cichetti and wine dinner
Our final stop of the night was pure joy. With infectious laughter and smiles all around, it was impossible not to enjoy ourselves.
My hotel, Pensione Guerrato, was recommended by my parents who stayed there on a previous tour. From my window, I could hear the lively chatter of young Venetians unwinding at a nearby bar. I headed to bed as I was meeting Stefano Mazzola early in the morning and I wanted to be rested and ready for what the day would bring.
As an avid fan of classical music, I knew I had to hear Vivaldi’s Four Seasons while in Venice and bought my ticket well in advance. I packed a silk dress for the occasion (pro tip: silk is lightweight, packs small, and releases wrinkles beautifully in a steamy bathroom) and strolled through the canal-side streets to the church hosting the concert.
At the ticket window, they asked if I had a companion. When I said no, the woman smiled and mentioned they had one seat left and it was on the stage. Would I like it? Absolutely! From that vantage point, I could feel the vibrations of the strings, watch the cellist conduct while playing, and soak in one of my favorite chamber pieces in a truly magical setting. What more could a music lover ask for?
I even spotted a few familiar faces from the earlier cichetti tour and gave them an enthusiastic wave. After the performance, they told me how lucky I was to land that final seat. I could not have agreed more—I felt wonderfully, completely blessed.
Knowing my time in Venice was limited, I booked a private 3 hour phototour with Stefano Mazzola—and what a pleasure it was! We met before sunrise for a fast-paced three-hour walk through the city. He was delighted to learn I had a background in photography, and I was equally thrilled to be guided by an award-winning photojournalist who knew exactly where to be at precisely the right moment. Just as important, he was a positive and encouraging teacher as I learned an entirely new style of photography—quite a contrast to my usual high-desert subjects of sweeping landscapes, waterfalls, macrophotography with its flora and insects, and astrophotography.
Photography in Venice is all about architecture and reflections. Water and windows in every nook and cranny become part of the composition. Its tall, narrow streets are flanked by looming buildings that funnel light in unexpected ways, creating dramatic contrasts of shadow and glow. Water and windows in every nook and cranny become part of the composition. Unlike most cities, where you might include more sky in an image, Venice invites you to look lower—letting the sky live in the reflections and avoiding the overexposed brightness that can overwhelm an image. The architecture lends to the beauty of the city with the arches forming perfect frames for each image. What follows is a reflective glimpse of my time with Stefano.
Above: Sandolos are often mistaken for gondolas. They are much lower in the front and back and flat underneath, passing under the shorter bridges at high tide when gondolas do not dare to tempt fate.
Below: St. Mark's Square at dawn
Above: Torre dell'Orologio (Clock Tower)
Below: The morning clean-up crew at work
Right: Prisoners saw one last glimpse of Venice before entering the prison while crossing The Bridge of Sighs
Dawn in St. Mark's Square is reverent and tranquil, a rare moment when the city exhales and your heart is moved by the quiet beauty around you.
Sunrise is a viscerally reverent experience—one of deep, mindful awareness, where every sense is alert to the beginning of a new day, almost like a sacred ritual. In the hush of early morning, you could hear the stillness as a small gathering of people lined the waterfront to welcome the day together. Stefano showed me the perfect spot to snap an image worthy of hanging on the wall, a rare honor in the era of technology and digital photography.
The essence of Venice is contagious—so much so that even couples drifting by on romantic gondola rides seem eager to share their joyful spirit with anyone who happens to pass by.
Including postcards in your frame makes for a fun photo with context
Upper left: Peek-a-boo!
Middle left: Another beautiful smaller canal off of the beaten path and away from the tourism of the Grand Canal
Lower left: Dorsoduro is a quieter part of Venice where the locals gather and a more authentic Venice can be experienced
Upper right: A true craftsman's table at a woodworking shop
Lower right: Corners are tight, even for a sandalo and the oarsmen are often seen directing their boats away from the perilous corners with a strong kick of their leg against buildings to safely maneuver into the next small canal.
Italian fast food consists of well prepared food that is ready to go and pretty healthy. I really enjoyed this turkey and apple panino as I walked through the streets to my next destination
Another great tip from Stefano: have a female say "Ciao!" to the gondoliers as they pass by (our voices are heard a little more easily in the canals than our deeper voiced male counterparts). They almost always smile and wave in return! You can get a great image or video of this if you time it right and it breaks up the monotony of their day.
Taking another tip from Stefano, I ducked behind St. Mark’s Basilica for a quick lunch and iced coffee at a spot where Venetians gather—far from the tourist fray. The pace was calmer, the Italian rapid and musical, and the atmosphere refreshingly unpolished. No souvenir menus or photo ops here; just locals going about their day. Pigeons casually wandered in and out across the stone floor through the open doorway, clearly regular patrons, as no one gave them a second glance.
On my way to the vaporetto, I stumbled upon an unexpected slice of everyday Venice: workers driving wooden poles deep into the silty lagoon floor. These humble pilings quietly hold the city together (or in this case, the gondolier stations) and must be replaced every few years as saltwater slowly wears them down. As I paused to record the process, others noticed and followed suit. Not before long, a small crowd had gathered behind me, phones raised. Who knew routine maintenance could become a pop-up tourist attraction?
Perhaps it is my own faith that draws me to sacred spaces when I travel. Perhaps it is simply the desire to connect with God in places that inspire reverence, peace, and awe all at once. St. Mark’s is neither the first basilica I have visited nor the largest Christian church, yet it stands apart; its identity unmistakable, its splendor unlike anything else. It contrasts sharply with the Byzantine-inspired Metropolitan Cathedral of the Annunciation (the Metropolis) in Athens. Both evoke a sense of ancient faith, but in St. Mark’s nearly every surface gleams with gold, while the Metropolis—despite its size—feels like a gentle, comforting embrace from the Creator.
The domes of St. Mark’s rise vast and luminous, giving the impression they might reach the heavens themselves. I made sure to purchase an 11:30 a.m. entry ticket with access to the altar, museum, and rooftop to capture those classic, beautifully and evenly lit photographs at the height of daylight. This might also be a good time to admit: I am afraid of heights. Though I have been working on this irrational fear for years, rooftop viewpoints atop grand cathedrals still make my heart race. Even so, when in Rome, Venice, or Milan, I push myself to the edge, quite literally, to fully experience the spectacular views these remarkable cities offer.
The View from the Altar
Nave
High Altar
From the Balcony Over the Front Door
Left: Detail of the high altar
Above: Campanile
Above: St. John the Baptist
Below: Piazzetta
Bronze Horses (La Quardriga) utilized the lost-wax method, weighting nearly a ton apiece. These were said to be made in Greece during Alexander the Great's rule, taken to Rome by Nero, then to Constatinople by Constantine, Ventice by the Venetians in 1204, and finally Napoleon in Paris. They were returned to Venice after he surrendered, though their rightful home remains highly contested.
Left: The originals, protected from the elements.
Above and Right: The replicas.
After wandering the streets and canals of Venice, I met up with the travelers from Arizona whom I met on the cicchetti tour. We chose a restaurant recommended earlier that day by Stefano for its authenticity—Al Vagon. Our table sat right at the edge of a quiet canal, where the soft glide of the occasional passing boat added to the magic of nighttime Venice.
Over a shared carafe of wine, we enjoyed good food, easy conversation, and the surprising delight of discovering how much we had in common. It was the perfect way to end a day of exploration—unhurried, genuine, and enriched by the simple joy of new connections.
The Doge’s Palace is a stalwart staple of Venice. Situated directly beside St. Mark’s Basilica, it commands the island’s waterfront with quiet authority, facing the lagoon like the sentinel of a bygone empire. As the elected ducal seat of Venice, this palace was the heart of a maritime powerhouse—ruled not by king, bishop, or tyrant, but by a remarkably stable Republic system that endured for four centuries. Quite the feat for its time!
Inside, the palace dazzles at every turn. Nearly every surface is gilded, and masterpieces fill the rooms. Paintings, sculptures, and sumptuous displays of Venetian wealth and pride. I could not help but wonder about the people who wandered these halls over the centuries. Could they have imagined that, nearly 500 years after the fall of their empire, visitors from around the world would still step into these grand chambers with the same awe and wonder?
The Secret Itineraries Tour revealed layers of history far beyond what the audio guide provided: the rise of the empire, key figures in its story, the expansion of Venetian influence across Europe, and even the dramatic tale of Casanova’s imprisonment and daring escape just before his sentence was set to be commuted.
Above: Our Secret Itinerary tour group, ready to step behind the scenes and uncover a lesser-known side of the Doge’s Palace
Below: This spot practically begs you to look up—and maybe snap a photo, just like the gentleman in the lower left who clearly couldn’t resist!
Above: The expansive courtyard is anchored by two beautifully decorated wells, reminders that even the most practical features were treated as works of art in Venice’s golden age.
The Venetian archives offered a fascinating glimpse into the great families of Venice’s Golden Age. Each family was assigned a cabinet, proudly marked with its crest and motto. The nouveau riche families, lacking generations of history, often made up for it with enthusiasm, adding especially long descriptions beneath their freshly minted crests, as if extra words could substitute for centuries of lineage (see below).
One of the Venetian prison’s most famous inmates was Giacomo Casanova. Arrested in 1755 for offenses against religion and “common decency,” he was confined to the section reserved for prisoners of higher status. Sentenced to five years without a trial—and without even being told the full reasons for his arrest—Casanova plotted several escape attempts, some of which were thwarted (including one from the cell above his).
He ultimately succeeded by teaming up with a priest in a neighboring cell, slipping out via the staircase shown here, which led improbably into the Venetian Archives. Remarkably, Casanova escaped just days before authorities had planned to release him—something he never knew. Of course, he would go on to live up to his notorious reputation, the details of which I will politely leave unmentioned here. He escaped from the roof and changed into clothing he and the priest found, then convinced the guard they had been accidentally locked in when the palace was secured for the night. They were let through the gate by the guileless guard.
One last unexpected connection to home: Casanova later met Benjamin Franklin in Paris in 1783—proof that history, like travel, has a way of weaving surprising connections across time and place.
Above: One of his cells in the Venetian prison
Left: The staircase famously used by Casanova to escape
Above: Part of the armory in the uppermost floor; Below: The attic is aptly shaped like the upside down hull of a ship
Above: Part of the armory in the attic
After finishing the Secret Itinerary tour, I continued exploring the areas of the palace normally open with a general admission ticket. The opulence is striking—room after room shimmering with grandeur—and it leaves no doubt about the immense wealth and power of Venice’s maritime empire.
Above: Sala del Collegio (Senate Hall) with its two unique clocks: one is marked by zodiac signs for the time of the year and the other is a 24-hour clock.
The Golden Staircase
One figure in particular caught my attention for an unexpected reason: Francesco Morosini, a Doge of Venice whose story tied directly back to the Greece tour I had just completed. He is infamously remembered for the Venetian bombardment of Athens on September 26, 1687, during a campaign against the Ottoman army. A mortar strike hit the Parthenon, igniting the gunpowder the Ottomans had stored inside and causing catastrophic damage to the ancient structure. While the Swedish field commander reportedly lamented the destruction, the Doge famously called it a “fortunate shot.”
The following year, Venetian forces captured the Parthenon, and in an attempt to remove sculptures from the western pediment, priceless works—including figures of Athena and Poseidon’s horses and chariots—were shattered when they fell to the ground. The Doge did, however, succeed in bringing the Piraeus Lion back to Venice as a war trophy, where it still stands today as a powerful reminder of how the histories of Greece and Venice are deeply and sometimes painfully intertwined.
Above: Tintoretto's Paradise (570 sq. ft.) is the largest canvas painting in all of Venice. Anything more diminutive would be swallowed up in the Hall of the Grand Council
Below: Hall of the Grand Council where the Council of Ten ruled the maritime empire
Below: Giambattasia Tiepolo's Neptune Offering the Riches of the Sea to Venice
Right: Christ Mocked, Quentin Metsys, C. 1529
At one point, I became thoroughly turned around in the dungeons and unintentionally toured them several times—the exit signage was less than intuitive. By that point I joked that I was getting the full prisoner experience because I, too, apparently could not escape. A kind tour guide finally took pity on me and pointed me toward daylight. Crossing the Bridge of Sighs to leave, I let out a sigh of my own...my high-speed train was rapidly approaching its departure time!
One of the last views of Venice for those going across the Bridge of Sighs into the depths of the often windowless, damp, and cold prison.
Above: The three stalwart features of St. Mark's Square (L to R): the Doge's Palace, Campanile, and St. Mark's Basilica
Left: The covered walkways around the courtyard would have provided much needed coolness during the height of the heat and humidity of summer.