When I showed an interest, Paolo invited us to visit his Castello workshop the next day, where he, printer Beppi, and their glassmaker friend Paolo, spent a few hours explaining the process, from how they create the wood plates to the binding of books, 100 per cent of which is done by hand. After, they insisted on buying us a drink at their local bar. In two weeks, we became the people we always envied on previous trips to Venice: the ones who sipped sparkling drinks in the windows of their palazzos as they surveyed the ever-changing scene on the Grand Canal below. The tourists on the vaporettos that pulled up at the wharf below smiled or waved to us, while those gliding by on gondolas neglected their serenade to shoot video of us. However, our apartment was by no means glamorous. It had a certain faded grandeur with its colossal ceilings, Murano chandeliers, antique velvet furniture and gilded mirrors. There were charming touches, such as old paintings of ships and a coffee table covered with an old National Geographic map. The kitchen was crammed with crockery, cutlery and glasses, and there was a supply of foodstuffs in the cupboards, from tomato paste and spices to different types of salts, tempting us to entertain, so we were rather pleased when an acquaintance came to town and we were able invite him over for a drink. There was peeling paint in places and worn upholstery, but the palazzo dated back to the 17th century after all. Being Venice, the floor was wonky, the windows wouldn’t shut properly and there were cracks in the walls, but we didn’t mind. This was Venice. We were staying in a palazzo in Venice. And that was what we said to ourselves each time we walked out our front door. This page (clockwise from left): Colourful coffee set at Dietro Langolo design shop; window on the island of Burano; handmade Venetian slippers, made from recycled materials, from Pied a Terre. Opposite page: A local strolling on the island of Burano in Venice’s lagoon.
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