Venice to Florence, Day 7 - 20th February 2016 (Part one - Early Morning Venice)

In the early hours of the morning Venice is still and quiet. The water has no ripples from passing boats. Shadows from buildings set close together make dark calles seem even more labyrinthine. In the early hours of the morning, Venice is a beautiful place to get lost.

Trudging silently, the cool air kissed our cheeks, painting pink onto white skin. We didn't see another soul pass by in the pre-dawn streets. We found only remnants of an early start; a lone coffee pot forgotten in the near dark. Standing as a silent metal marker that life does exist before the rays of sunshine can creep through cracks in between buildings.

A side of Venice that creeps slowly beside us in the pre-dawn city.  The silence engulfs us as we tramp familiar paths that are barely recognizable without the shuffling feet, the bright masks pulled into the centre of the street on movable trolleys, the wafting smell of hot Italian food and the excited chatter that normally fills the air.

At the edge of Venice worlds blended. The sky lightened over the snow-clad peaks of the Dolomites. The heights towered over the flat lands below. Lands almost level to the blue water of the lagoon. It is here, in the lagoon, that a different space exists. A space not made of earth as the mountains are, but of flagged stones, bridges, stairs and echoing canals. A city borne of the protection of the lagoon.



This is the romantic Venice that stirred my husband and I to pull ourselves from the comfort of a warm bed much earlier than our bodies would have liked.