With lurching stops and starts and the jostling of commuters, the 70-minute ride is an immersion in the sights, smells, sounds, and pace of Venice. When the ferry reaches the east end of the city, it swings south across the lagoon to the Lido, the long barrier island sheltering Venice from the Adriatic Sea. On the return trip, the marshland metropolis seems to rise from the water as an almost mythical jumble of blocks and spires. The signature bulbous domes of Basilica di San Marco and a towering campanile mark the sweeping Piazza San Marco. Even travelers intent on avoiding the beaten path cannot ignore the city's grandest public space.
Flanked by long, galleried buildings, the piazza is a shifting sea of people and pigeons and people feeding pigeons. The birds have it easy in Venice. They pose for a few photos and gorge on cracked corn that vendors sell in little packets. Indeed, pigeon ecstasy often takes the form of hopping onto cafe tables to strut a mating dance to the amusement of the couples sipping espresso, eating ice cream, or toasting each other with Prosecco.
The lavish 11th-century basilica anchors the east end of the piazza. A sign at the door urges silence, and the quiet is as golden as the mosaics that seem to cover every square inch of the interior. The biblical scenes are so overwhelming that conventional wisdom dictates returning several times to study the church in small doses. But it's equally rewarding to set off into Venice, ostensibly to see out-of-the-way artistic treasures, and count on serendipity. Navigation is less by street sign (there are few) and more a matter of going from campo to campo (the less regal term for every square except Piazza San Marco). Wrong turns can lead to such happy accidents as stumbling on Orseolo Basin, where the gondoliers stretch out on their boats between gigs.
