For the uninitiated, the drive into Venice from Marco Polo Airport can be a bit of a shock. It is a gritty, industrial, decaying space that belies the beauty to come, which starts by boarding one of the ubiquitous motorboats in a canal.
As often happens to Americans who fly to Europe overnight, our hotel room was not ready for another five hours after we arrived. We strolled to the beautiful Saint Mark’s Square. To enjoy a breeze on the hot morning, we sat outside at a tourist spot, with umbrellas for shade. A jazz band entertained us with a ragtime song by Scott Joplin along with others, and the cappuccinos were excellent.
Aside from its beauty, the quiet of Venice hits you. No cars, no construction, no barking dogs. But there are plenty of high-end stores. Our abode, Hotel Flora, was only steps away from the biggest names in luxury goods, from Gucci to Chanel. Two kids wandered into Zegna, and once we heard the spacious, expensive boutique had air conditioning, we escaped the 93-degree heat and appeared. Fortunately, last I checked the credit card, nothing had caught anyone’s eye.
We then returned to an elegant room off the two-person bar at Hotel Flora. The front-desk receptionist nicely sat down with us unsolicited and explained on a map where to go for museums, nearby restaurants and more. It was quite helpful for a jet-lagged family spending about 36 waking hours in town. Then we played Uno and Imposter while listening to soft jazz songs on a turntable.
The next day we enjoyed our simple breakfast of fruit, croissants, coffee and orange juice. I headed to the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, perched on the Grand Canal across from the stunning Palazzo Barbarigo. Designed in 1749, well before Guggenheim’s birth, it is a one-story haven for those who appreciate Cubist and Surrealist paintings, among other 20th-century genres. One can open the doors and sit outside to watch the boats glide by. Lunch consisted of excellent Venetian pizza, whose crust was so light it was almost weightless.
Marring our stay was nothing Venice — a maritime superpower during the Renaissance — could help us with. One of our five bags had gone to NCE (Nice) instead of VCE (Venice). We filled out a claim form at Marco Polo and hoped it would arrive before our cruise to Athens started two days later.
Alas, a comedy of errors ensued. Once our son realized we would not receive the suitcase in time, he asked United to return his luggage to O’Hare. But a tracker we had received showed it traveled to Washington, D.C. and then was shipped to Venice, far too late for us to get it. I found out we needed to file a property irregularity report (what a phrase!) to be reimbursed for clothing we were forced to buy in the interim. I asked the United Virtual Assistant how to procure one and received this response a number of times:
Thanks! If you need help with anything else, just let me know.
Finally, I received a somewhat unofficial-looking e-mail from a non-United address:
DEAR CUSTOMER COULD YOU CONFIRM THAT YOUR LUGGAGE NEEDS TO BE FORWARDED TO YOUR PERMANENT ADDRESS
RGDS VCELL
Amazingly, it was legitimate. The bag eventually returned home, and we agreed on a lesson learned for any future European trip: carry-ons can bring peace of mind.
