October 25 2006

I blog from the shadow of the towers of St Mark's Basilica, as they fall across the Venetian lagoon and lay on the upper deck of my boat, moored in the quiet little marina island of Certosa.

Across the water, across dozens of barcas and vaporetti dashing back and forth, lies one of the most famous, most beautiful and most busy cities on earth, and we sit in near silence just metres from its shores, the boat gently rocking, the blue-green waters lapping and the engine slowly turning over to heat the water for a shower.

We arrived in Certosa yesterday evrning after chasing glorious sunshine down the idyllic River Sile to the lock at Portigrandi, then out into the lagoon.

We had flown into Italy on Saturday and spent the day trying coffees, pastries and ice creams in Casier before picking up our Crown Blue Line Classique and taking it an hour south of the base to moor in the national park, at the edge of the village of Casale.

We slept to the sound of wild birds and were woken by the bells of a Catholic mass from the huge church that crowds the river bank.

Our Classique had given us a fantastic night's sleep, and we wandered into the village to buy pastries for breakfast, Italian style.

When the morning mist lifted from the willow trees dangling their branches in the water, and rose high enough above the square bell tower so we could see how bright and hot a day we were going to have, we unmoored and followed the river downstream to the next village, where we found shops to fill the boat.

The journey, four hours, is peaceful and drains any stress of travelling. The waters of the Sile trickle into our past like fond memories, the day grows warmer as we sit at the wheel heading rowards the Adriatic.

We thought we'd shopped the day before, but most of it turned out to be fantastic red wines, meats, breads and cheeses that were our lunch on the green banks of the Sile, so the shops were a welcome discovery.

And then on to Venice. The trip across the lagoon is easier than expected. We stoped briefly at the northern island of Burano, then pushed on to the main attraction. And here we sit, waiting a few minutes for the barca to take us into the city.

Just enough time for another coffee and pastry... ciao neil