Reenergized from our naps, we headed out to the Doge’s Palace for the first part of our afternoon/evening tour. Just a bit of back story: the Doge ruled over the Venetian Republic, which was an independent state for…oh, just about 1100 years (!)…until 1797. We think of Italy as a very old country, but in fact it was not unified as we know it until 1870 (a process that began in 1848). It’s one of the things that makes traveling here so fascinating – there are so many different cultures and histories peppered across this beautiful land.

The Doge’s Palace, initially constructed in the mid-14th century, was not only his residence but also the seat of government. Inside and out, it is just…jaw dropping (including granite and statuary stolen from Egypt!). We’ve booked a tour that has about 20 people, and meet our guide at the far end of St. Mark’s Square. The basilica is directly across; you can see the Doge’s Palace to the right (they are connected, as the basilica was originally the Doge’s private church).

Walking through the square, we note the high point of the water. Imagine 3 ft of water in this piazza! It comes not from rain but from “acqua alta” – that is, high tide. A few years ago, the government installed giant gates at the entrances to the Venetian Lagoon which can be raised to keep the high tides out. They expected to raise the gates a couple times a year…and have had to do so almost 50 times since it became operational [insert here your own thoughts about climate change and rising sea levels].

We are lucky to be here at the end of the day, as the crowds are mostly gone and the heat of the day is dissipating. We enter through a high arched doorway along the grand canal into a beautiful courtyard. There is a well for fresh water, as well as an imposing staircase, meant to do just that – convey the power of the Doge. Symbols of Venice (the lion) and statues of Mars and Venus hold court over the main entrance. The palace’s walls rise around us, the intricate plaster work casting elegance and wealth down upon us peasants.

The Palace is now a museum, and while it feels like that – incredible art from ceiling to floor (and ON the ceilings of course), the paintings and gold filigree shining – Nicolo (our tour guide) explains what would take place in each room, filling out the history and making it feel more alive. He is animated and talks fast, recreating the energy in the room that must have been here when used for official purposes.

Meetings of councils and senators happened here, visiting dignitaries were received by those who ruled, and trials took place where a verdict would be handed through a small slot in the wall. Those who were convicted were sent over the Bridge of Sighs that connected the palace to the prisons (hence the name Bridge of Sighs…very few ever made it out alive so your fate was pretty much sealed with a final view of Venice).

The painting at the end of the Grand Hall is called Paradiso and is completely overwhelming. The scale is absolutely incredible. Standing in this enormous space – somehow constructed without columns – you can’t help but be awed. Words just don’t quite capture it all, so i’ll let the pictures do the talking…

For hundreds – no, thousands – of years, painting was used to document historical events, tell stories (biblical and otherwise), and display power. Imagine no printing press, no photography…

As we exited the palace, Nicolo suggested some places for dinner around St. Mark’s (a pleasant surprise that we had a break for a bite to eat) so we made our way down a narrow “street” that is more like the space between two buildings than a street. Darkness is falling, the lights are coming up, and there is live music coming from the piazza. A buzz of languages surround us, families and young couples squeeze by, people’s chatter and smoking from cafes fill the air, and the doors of tourist shops beckon for at least a gaze. Many sell Murano glass that we have learned is often not…but rather made in China.

We think we are headed to the place Nicolo told us about but are quickly lost. If you have ever tried to navigate the streets and canals of Venice, you know how easily that is done. We settle on one of the many little canal-side restaurants, windows open in spite of the heat, the gondoliers slowly ambling flanked by romantic couples perched on juliet balconies just above the water.

Our group meets up just outside St. Mark’s Basilica. It’s now dark, and the basilica takes on a mysterious air. The four horses of the apocalypse on the facade are menacing, and using the side entrance under the cover of darkness seems like we are sneaking into a place we shouldn’t go for unearthly reasons. We proceed cautiously…to a dimly lit but sparkling, spectacular multi-domed cathedral, the ceilings soaring above us and covered in mosaics, mostly gold. 

And as if it wasn’t enough to cover the ceilings, columns and walls with mosaic, the floor is tiled with marble “carpets” from one end to the other. Precise geometric patterns that are only stone in their hardness, seemingly woven together…

Nicolo tells us a little bit about the history and what the mosaics depict (mostly bible scenes and characters, of course). The basilica is unique in that everything is mosaic; there is not a single painting or fresco in here! The artistry and craftsmanship is astonishing – a mosaic tile is about 1/4” square, sometimes smaller.  Millions of tiny tiles placed just so to create these images…simply WOW. 

We take seats in the relatively small congregation seating area, and the drama begins. The few illuminated lights turn off – click…click…click – and we are in the dark. We sit patiently.

In silence. 

And then…one side lightens…then another…in front of us and in back…then the apse and then across the entire ceiling and the gold is on fire above us, from dome to dome and arch to arch. Our necks craned skyward, the bible scenes come to life as we look left and right and up and down and it is impossible to take it all in at once. 

Whether you are of Christian faith or not, there is an inescapable spirituality beneath these golden ceilings.  Perhaps it is the stories and people depicted, perhaps it is the centuries of believers who inhabit these halls, and perhaps…it is the art itself.