An Apartment in Venice by Marlene Hill Read Free Book Online

down the station steps to stand beside the Grand Canal and wait for Vaporetto Numero Uno. It’d be one of many lumbering water-buses that provide public transportation throughout the city and neighboring islands.
    Vaporetto is a much prettier word than water-bus. But vaporettos are merely big diesel buses that happen to float on the water. At least two hundred people can crowd aboard—and do—during rush hours. Vaporettos may be powered by diesel now, but when they were introduced in the 1880s, their power source was steam, giving them the name vaporetto. Secretly, Giulia always thought of them as fat hens clucking their way up and down the Grand Canal rather than something as delicate as a “little vapor.” Again she inhaled, and took in the essence of the sea. Soon she’d breathe this magical air every single day.
    She rode the entire length of the backward S that shaped the Grand Canal and went to Piazza di San Marco. Today she wanted only a quick glance at the over-dressed old dowager, her private name for the church. With “her” exotic excess, she bedazzles and dominates all who enter the huge football-sized square. Only the old Venetians could pull off such an eclectic extravaganza. Five domes lift their humps to the sky. Spires and fanciful carvings cover every square inch of the upper arches of the sparkling facade. She admired again the gorgeous marble columns at the doorways, not one exactly alike. Visitors halt in their tracks the first time they see this spectacle. And when they leave, most turn back to take one long look as if they’re not sure what they’d seen. Giulia remembered doing the same thing—more than once.
    A golden lion holding the book of St. Mark stands front and center at the top of the building. Gold and colored Byzantine mosaics picturing scenes from Jesus’s life are up there, too. What would the humble carpenter from Nazareth think about all this gold and glitter? Those sparkling bits of gold and colored glass fascinate any time of day—in any weather—but when the late afternoon sun strikes them, Saint Mark’s church is a show stopper. And the horses! Those magnificent gilded horses, stolen from Byzantium centuries ago, watch the piazza from the church’s balcony. Thank God the originals had finally been rescued from modern acidic air and now lift their proud heads in an upstairs room of the church.
    She stood staring with the same delirious sensation she’d felt as a child on her first visit. The glorious glitter and exuberance were still working their magic. But this time, she would not be lured inside. Like Ali Baba’s Cave, the golden walls and ceilings hold treasures beyond belief. Such excess and all so beautiful. She’d never pull herself away in time to walk anywhere else in the city this day, and for sure, she’d be late to meet Marlowe.
    Giulia felt light hearted about her decision to postpone San Marco’s. From now on, she could savor her favorites in the city at her leisure. She turned away quickly as if escaping the old lady’s clutches and caught a vaporetto back up the S to the Ca’ d’Oro stop.
    She followed the long, narrow passageway leading from the vaporetto stop into Cannaregio, the largest sestiere, district, of Venice. This walkway had once been a private entrance to the most dazzling palazzo in the city. The massive wooden gate in the side wall had an eight-inch square peep slot looking directly into the water entrance. She could never resist stopping to peer through to the marble mosaic pavimento and the stone stairway leading to the main floor of the palazzo. This structure must have been built higher than many others along the famous waterway or maybe new owners had performed restoration miracles because the marble artwork looked almost pristine. Nowadays, water moving with the tides, swished farther into most entrances than originally planned. With the city sinking bit by bit and water rising centimeter by centimeter, most water-gate