At long last, the loud monotonous rumble of the engine, and the water's clap-clapping against the boat's hull gave way to a gentle murmur of a graceful glide toward the shore. The well-known Venetian skyline emerged in the mid-afternoon sun from the shores of the lagoon, a breath-taking vista already making its indelible mark on our minds. We were now greeted by the familiar sight of Piazzetta San Marco, its entrance flanked by two granite columns, one topped by the statue of a winged lion, the symbol of Venice, and the other by the statue of St. Teodoro, the campanile, the Basilica's Byzantine domes, and the Ducal Palace's massive façade supported by a ground-level Gothic portico topped by pointed arches, and above it a loggia enclosed by a delicate colonnade of ogives and tracery. Mingling in the crowds, arrived at last, we immediately set out on our all-important mission of finding our hotel, along the way marvelling at the intricately ornate front of the Basilica looking out onto the spacious legendary square that was at the heart of Venice's political and cultural history.

  According to the rudimentary map we had been given, the hotel should have been only a few streets away from the Piazza. We found no wide streets with names (Actually, street names are painted high on the walls of the buildings at the corner of the alleys.), but waves after waves of tourists filling narrow twisting alleys endlessly leading to more narrow twisting alleys. We kept walking until the alleys became deserted, turned back, and after a few inquiries with helpful strangers, finally found the hotel hidden on a small campo (square) probably no more than 100 yards from Piazza San Marco. Our room was in a separate building behind the office, with the tiny bathroom tucked away in the attic accessible via a spiral stairway as steep as the eastern side of Mt. Everest. Our temporary residence was surrounded by red rooftops, even a window or two into neighboring apartments. After a brief refreshing rest, we ventured out into the neighborhood.

  Ah, Venice! The poetry of this very old city-state is here at every step, written a verse at a time, on its exiguous calli, streets many of which barely wide enough for three people walking side by side, meandering in a delightful labyrinth of surprises; on its rii, small canals criscrossing in every direction and spanned by hundreds of small bridges which offer romantic views on the buildings, many of which open onto the canals; on its main waterway, the Grand Canal, slicing in vast arcs the town in two halves which are connected by just three bridges each with its own peculiar history, and bordered by palaces, stores, restaurants, and churches on photogenic waterfronts; on its campi, or small squares, erstwhile fields, now oases of serenity and tranquillity; on its gondolas sliding placidly in narrow canals so deftly controlled by gondoliers; on its sunsets casting incredibly striking hues over the lagoon. And more. Together, this uniquely Venetian landscape weaves a tapestry of harmonious decors each vaunting its own beauty yet combining into a perfect symphony of colors, shapes, movements and styles.

  Like Venus Venice seems to rise from the sea. Unlike Venus, Venice stays anchored in the sea: there are no Zephyrs to blow it to shore. It floats on tiny pieces of land, but preserves its dreamy quality through the closeness of its people, buildings, palaces, churches, warehouses, museums surrounded by water and alleys and bridges. The simple exteriors of its houses are a counterpoint to the external ornateness of its palaces. The sumptuousness of some churches is tempered by the plain façades of others.

  Just wander around along the alleys. Without haste, linger at the window displays of souvenir shops that are no deeper than they are wide, and the stucco houses painted in different colors as in a modern painting (think about Hopper), reaching out for each other across the alleys. Let go of yourself, follow the twists and turns, worry nothing about where you are heading, and expect the unexpected. Every alley, every corner takes you back centuries. After all Venice is just a hundred years younger than England. In this pedestrian haven, the slow pace of life, the deserted quiet, and the solitude, all foster a sense of peace and restfulness for everyone, more so for people who are vexed by relentless daily routines. Steps away from the tourist traps Venice displays its charm in these oh so hushed alleyways and byways where your own footsteps are muffled as if to enforce a tacit respect for this Parnassian realm.

  Follow the labyrinthine alleys and soon you will reach one of the numerous secluded squares that dot the landscape. Slow down and look around. You are likely to find a quaint old church, its unassuming front seeming to age so gracefully, a small restaurant barricaded with tables and chairs outside, a fountain presiding in the middle, a large tree casting its sprawling shadow over a wide expanse, or simple stucco buildings. Listen to the silence. You may encounter a solitary local resident, a small group of tourists, or not a soul. The essence of the campo is its age-old quiet and simple charm. You are easily carried back to medieval times with precious little to remind you of the modern age. Let your imagination loose, and try to relive the experience of the chivalrous era, the courtly romance, and the serenades because in a few minutes you will reach the Grand Canal, and the magic quickly evaporates with the bustling activities of a busy mercantile district.

  Stop on a bridge over a rio. Look down. Here a barge plies its trade, there a gondola glides silently to the largo rhythm of the solitary gondolier's moving oar. The distinctive profile of the gondola's raised bow projects an unforgettable image. The gondola's unique asymmetrical construction achieves balance with the rower positioned on the narrower half. While standing on top of my favorite bridge over the Palazzo Canal, look south toward the Bridge of Sighs, the legendary covered structure that connects the tribunal in the Ducal Palace with the New Prisons across the rio; which explains how it earned its name. Forget the unpleasant history (although Casanova's nineteenth-century escape from prison here was, and I hope still is, quite an inspiration to novelists and poets). Enjoy the narrow vista against the glorious red-orange backdrop of the lagoon beyond, when it is slowly engulfed in the waning light of a gorgeous sunset.

  The Basilica of San Marco facing the Piazza shelters the remains of Venice's patron saint. Every cupola above the narthex depicts in exquisite gold mosaics scenes from the Old Testament, and the entire Basilica's ceiling with its profusion of domes, vaults, arches, and cupolas, richly covered with mosaics bathed in golden light, bears witness to Oriental influence. Once the Doge's Chapel it served a dual religious and political function, and is richly decorated with masterpieces of Venetian masters as well as treasures taken from Constantinople during the Fourth Crusade in 1204. Among these the most famous are probably the four bronze horses, which the French under Napoleon took back to Paris during his Italian campaign, only to return them in 1815. Copies of these horses now stand guard over the great portico of the Western façade. The Basilica is an idiosyncratic mixture of Gothic, Romanesque, and Byzantine styles, blending into a structure so unique that it is as unmistakable as a fabulous creation. Its awe-inspiring interior is adorned by centuries of artistic creativity, culminated by the Pala d'Oro (Golden Altarpiece), which was embellished over three centuries with gilded frames, enamels and thousands of precious stones.

  Steeped in Venetian political history, the adjoining Doge's Palace is an architectural complex whose façades owe their ethereal quality to Eastern influence with its open ground-floor loggia pierced by huge pointed arches, and its upper loggia delicately adorned with quadrilobate tracery atop slender columns, all terminated by a pink marble face punctuated by wide windows and more round tracery windows. Inside the palace opulence reigns, designed to impress and to advertise Venetian power and influence in its heyday. Today, this exuberance still projects its former might as much as the surpassing artistry of the paintings and frescoes on the walls and ceilings of its chambers of government and the Doge's apartment. Admire the numerous Veroneses, among which the The Rape of Europa, the Tintorettos (Jacopo and Domenico), which include Discovery of Ariadne, and masterpieces by Titian, Bassano, Tiepolo, Giovane, among others, which treat mythological, biblical, historical, even political themes, and which adorn these great halls whose guilded and inlaid wooden and stucco ceilings dazzle and inspire: the Senate Chamber, the Chamber of the Council of Ten, the Philosophers' Hall, the Great Council Chamber (the largest of them all), the Collegio Chamber, the Anticollegio Chamber, and many more. Marvel at the ornate vaulted ceiling fashioned in guilded stucco of the Golden Staircase (Scala d'Oro) built in the mid-sixteenth century on the design of Jacopo Sansovino. Walk around the Doge's Palace, and linger at the capitals in its corners where exquisitely carved images of men, women, and animals are allegorical.

  Here is the heart of Venice, the endearing image of the city of canals and gondolas, the magnet that draws millions of polyglot visitors from all corners of the globe, a choice destination of lovers. Piazza San Marco is the traditional political and cultural hub, what Venice presents to the world as its image. Camera-toting tourists are almost a permanent fixture of this world-famous plaza. At most times of the day you can encounter armies of them insatiably snapping pictures of themselves and of everything in sight including the top of the belltower and Sansovino's loggietta at its foot. In 1902 this campanile collapsed by itself. The city rebuilt it as it had been and where it had been. During the day, other than the swarms of the ever-present pigeons, scarcely anything in this piazza is romantic enough to move your Muse. But wait. When the sun has given way to darkness, and the lights atop the lampposts pierce the tenebrous air with feeble darts that illuminate their perches' graceful profile, look out toward the basin, and you are in a different world, a different mood, a different reality. While the gentle breeze from the basin caresses your face against the backdrop of the Ducal Palace's dreamy silhouette, and when most of the people have settled comfortably in restaurants, homes, or hotels, walk around. You now enter the bewitching world of what I would call San Marco night for lack of a better term. For indeed San Marco has charm in spite of its trite designation of 'the living room of the world.' Even its high waters, which sometimes flood the piazza, and the majestic colonnade of the Ducal Palace are a part of the hallmark of this terminally poetic place. From one of the columns of the Palace, direct your gaze toward the basin at dusk when the last glow of the sun is smothered in the leaden somberness of the coming night. It is then that the enchantment of crepuscular magic carries you to a blissful realm from which you will not want to depart.

   The Rialto Bridge spanning the Grand Canal at its narrowest symbolizes the mercantile face of Venice. This is the heart of the business district, an essential pillar of Venetian power. The stone bridge, with two gracefully arcaded pedestrian walkways along the sides, and a street in the middle lined with leather and jewelry shops, is a remarkable structure in its own right. Ignore the constant crowds, and the commercial activity. Find a nook on the bridge from which to take in a memorable view of Venice, its narrow alleys, its buildings that almost hug one another, its red roofs, the bends and palaces of Grand Canal, the colorful maritime setting. The joys and delights of the unfolding panaroma, very different, very unique, very Venetian, will fill your heart and soul to satiety.

  There is the modern Venice, the Venice of vaporetti, the motorized boats that link all parts of the city through the Grand Canal and other islands of the lagoon. As you sit in those boats, let the wind sweep past your face while palaces, churches, businesses, restaurants, and hotels on Grand Canal offer a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes that are delightful to behold. Let the salt air penetrate your lungs and revitalize your system for the explorations to come because Venice is an explorer's paradise. Unlike land-locked cities, Venice does not grow larger or taller, but remains essentially the same for centuries. Venice preserves its history with grace and pride. You can see the faces of the medieval era, and of the Renaissance period perhaps where you are, but more so in the museums and churches that grace the city. You can see history as you step off the boat onto the Piazzetta San Marco, as you walk the quiet alleys, as you admire the mosaics in the Basilica of San Marco, as you enter the halls of the Doge's Palace. And you need not ask why Byron, Wagner, Hemingway, Monet among others have come to Venice to stay awhile. You know intuitively that Venice has by magic taken hold of your soul and its in-dwelling will bring you back to this poetic city of the ages.