You know that phrase, "You never really know until you get there"? I thought I understood it until I stepped foot in Venice. If someone had asked me what I expected, I'd have replied with a list of clichés: canals, gondolas, gelato. But the real Venice? That was a whole different beast. So, let me spill the beans over this cup of coffee and share the best things to do in Venice through my own messy, beautiful experience.
This spot? Total surprise.
It all started with my typical, “yeah, I'll plan ahead” approach—an overstuffed itinerary filled with some ‘must-see' places. You know, the stuff everyone says you absolutely can't miss. But then, while trying to find my way to the iconic Rialto Bridge, I took a wrong turn (and by ‘wrong turn,' I mean I followed my gut, which was apparently directionally challenged). Suddenly, I found myself in a narrow alleyway, piled high with local produce and flowers, the air fragrant with the kind of Italian aroma you see in movies.
Honestly, I wasn't expecting much. I was half-expecting to turn around and trudge my way to the tourist-clad paths. But then, this older woman caught my eye. She was setting up a small stand with fresh fruits, and something about her smile felt like a warm invitation. I don't know why I ended up there, but I decided to chat with her in my broken Italian. She brandished figs and peaches as if they were treasure. I bought a single, sun-warmed peach, and when I took a bite, juice just exploded everywhere. It wasn't your average snack; it was like summer had taken root in my mouth. This tiny moment, this spontaneous detour, became one of my favorite memories—no guidebook told me about this!
The afternoon that changed my whole mood
After that delightful mistake, I hitched a ride on a vaporetto, which is basically the water bus of Venice. The sun was glistening on the water, and I felt like the universe was giving me a playful little nudge, saying, “Hey, relax a bit.” That's when I wandered off to the islands—Murano and Burano—on a whim.
Murano is all about glass, but honestly, I had no idea it would flutter me away like a gentle breeze. I met this old glassblower named Marco who used to train in the days when everyone wanted genuine art instead of cheap knockoffs. His hands worked like magic, shaping the glass in a few quick movements. But it was his stories, vivid and animated, that pulled me into a different reality. I caught myself forgetting the time, completely immersed as he recounted tales of fiery dragons and beautiful maidens who once inspired his craft.
Burano, on the other hand, was like stumbling upon a colorful fairytale. The houses there are painted in such bold, eye-watering hues that I felt like a kid who just discovered a box of crayons. I strolled through the streets and took a zillion photos, trying to capture how every angle felt alive. No overwhelming crowds, just me and my newfound appreciation for a place that didn't need to try hard to impress. The unplanned nature of this entire afternoon turned my whole mood around. I mean, who knew getting lost could lead to such beautiful discoveries?
I almost missed this, no thanks to my bad sense of direction
Then comes the part I want to laugh about now but wanted to cry about back then. On my way to find a “must-try” restaurant, I took another legendary wrong turn. I mean, how many times can a person get lost in such a small space? But instead of sulking, I chose to keep walking, hoping to stumble into something amazing. Spoiler alert: I did, but only after a solid hour of wandering aimlessly.
I found this little café with an outdoor terrace overlooking one of the less crowded canals. I ordered what they called “sarde in saor,” a Venetian classic, and honestly, I thought I was just trying fish, but it was like they handed me a plate of history. It was sweet and sour, balanced with raisins and pine nuts, and I just keep mulling it over between bites, thinking about the generations before me who likely enjoyed the same dish.
As I sat there, a lovely couple next to me struck up a conversation, sharing stories and laughs. I felt this beautiful connection, like Venice itself was tugging us all together, weaving our tales into one fabric for that afternoon. I thought I was just grabbing dinner, but it turned out to be a mini-therapy session under the twinkling fairy lights.
The gelato that stole my heart
Now let's talk about the gelato because, I mean, when in Italy, right? With all my wandering, I didn't plan it, but thankfully, I stumbled upon a gelateria tucked away in another alley. I thought, "What's one more detour?"
I ordered a tiny scoop of pistachio and a scoop of something called "tiramisu." There's no way to properly describe it except that it changed my outlook on dessert. I sat on a stone bench by a small canal, watching the sun dip behind the rooftops. The flavors danced, swirling into each other as if they were performing some sort of secret Venetian tango. I had a moment of sheer happiness—the kind you want to capture in a bottle and keep forever.
There were moments when I felt overwhelmed, unsure if I was enjoying it enough or if I was doing Venice “right.” But in those little detours, conversations, and spontaneous choices, I realized those were the best things to do in Venice: to embrace the chaos, welcome mistakes, and find beauty in the unplanned.
I'm back home now, and as I sit here with you, I can still taste that gelato and feel the warm sun on my face. It's hard to summarize a place so full of charm and surprise, but isn't that just how life works? Sometimes it's the little things—a chance meeting, a wrong turn, or a delicious plate—that leave the most lasting impressions. I don't know when I'll be back, but Venice? You've set a high bar for spontaneity.
And hey, next coffee's on me; I've got more stories to dig through.
