On our final night in Venice, we paid one last visit to Osteria Ruga di Jaffa. The owner, Alvise, gave us a bottle of sumptuous olive oil as a goodbye gift, sparking a discussion from the men at the bar about the best way to use such a treasure. Their parting words: “just please, please don’t cook with it”. We then took a walk along Riva degli Schiavoni towards the Giardini, stopping along the way to talk about how it feels to be leaving; both of us staring blindly at the iridescent sheen of Saint Mark’s, having seen its domes from this vantage point so many times before. From Via Garibaldi, we burrowed into Venice, following a half-remembered route home. The bells tolled midnight. Dom said that perhaps he could live here forever – I replied that I need to leave and then come back to know that for sure. I thought about that again the other day, while eating my lunch on a bench in Bungay and looking out over the flooded marshes: The best thing about leaving, Read More
The Venetian island of Torcello has 11 inhabitants. Last year there were 16, but then Carmen’s cousins upped sticks and moved to Burano. Apparently they didn’t have a boat – problematic on an island where the local amenities consist of a couple of restaurants and a Byzantine cathedral (beautiful, I might add, but not much cop when it comes to the weekly shop). “When Stefano and I got married he told me he wanted to move to Torcello. I refused,” Carmen tells me as she moors the boat. But despite not living on the Venetian island themselves, Stefano and Carmen are its biggest fans.