Venice Carnival And Lake Garda Thermal Spa

The Venice Carnival and Italian thermal spas were my well planned getaway to help get through the death anniversary of my son  last week.  He would have loved to have been with us.

Maybe Italy called me because it was the last place Andre traveled with us a few years ago.

I followed my own therapy advice about dealing with trauma/death anniversaries.  It took some planning of course, but I knew that I wanted some diversion, distraction and soothing events as his year death anniversary approached.

No, nothing eliminates or stops the grieving. That is impossible, but learning to live again with the pain and grief is my new normal.

I was initially more interested in thermal spas rather than Mardi Gras in Venice, but it just worked out that way.

It was my first and maybe my only Carnival in Venice.  This small medieval city sectioned  by hundreds of tiny and larger canals never seems to change much except to the Venetians, who have left in droves to escape the ever present tourists.

It was bitter cold and very windy waiting to get on the Alilaguna water bus to take us from the airport to the apartment in Venice.

Unable to find a warmer spot in the interior I remained on deck battered by the lagoon spray and frigid wind, a perfect winter welcome back to Venice.

I first visited Venice with Andre in tow when he was just ten years old many moons ago.  We arrived  at dawn at the Santa Lucia train station from an overnight train from Rome.

While waiting for the vaporetto, he promptly fell asleep on top of my old red luggage.

I have learned to pack much lighter these days, not just for Venice mind you. Otherwise, you will be a masochistic hauling heavy bags up and down hundreds of steps to cross multiple bridges.

I have a great sense of direction, but I must admit Venice has tricked me more than once, but that it part of the fun unless you are towing bags or tired kiddies.

It was the day before Mardi Gras or Carnival, but where were those in disguise?  Surely I would see some that night!

They say Carnevale is overwhelmed with tourists, but it did not sense that many more than usual.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our small flat overlooking intersecting canals, in Dorsoduro/Accademia had views  of gondoliers gliding by some in song.

I felt comforted by the wall grotto of Holy Mary Theotokos, across from our door, who has walked with me every day through my painful ordeal.

Before taking off from Paris, Aimée had lamented not bringing a small sketchbook to capture  scenes of our trip.

Strange perhaps to others, but not to us, we stumbled on a minuscule art supply shop, on the way to get some Carnival pastries.

Not able to hold more than four customers, it was stacked to the ceiling with pencils, brushes, canvases and tubes of paint, where she found a perfect travel size book and some oil pastel pencils.

Frittelle is a popular Venetian Carnival treat that is showcased in most pastry shops, but I was looking for some of the best.

Fortunately, one of the best was just around the corner from our place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Opening the door of Pasticceria Dal Nono Colussi, engulfed us with warm sweet aromas and was a delightful retreat from the cold. One of the best pastry shops in Venice it has a great reputation for Carnevale frittelle and Galani.

French love beignets year round, usually cream filled, called Krapfen in Venice and in Austria and Germany.

Regional versions seen in Savoie, once part of Italy, are called bugnes.  Oreilles de cochon are the French equivalent of galani or crostoli.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Whether Italian of French, they all fried and sprinkled with powdered sugar, and all delicious if made with quality ingredients.

Fortified with the delicious pastries and some excellent cappuccino, we headed out again bracing the cold wind and freezing drizzle.

We passed by a mask shop full of mask makers and painters, busily whipping up these distinctive Venetian Carnival necessities.

Some of us wear invisible masks, called personas in hopes of hiding our true selves. There are not any masks, even wooden ones seen above that I could wear to hide my sad eyes and grief.

Before long, it was time for the long jaunt literally across Venice to the Cannaregio district for the Osteria Alla Frasca, well known in gourmets circles for seafood.

Only  demanding foodies like myself would want to brave the elements for a long and winding 25 minute walk for promises of delight.

Small and unpretentious, we were warmly greeted by owner Bruno.  The Fritto Misto was fried to perfection in a very light tempura like batter.

The grilled octopus though came out barely warm, tough and sadly tasteless.

 

 

 

I was told their humble house wines were delicious, and the Pinot Grigio was powerfully perfumed with a fresh fruitiness rarely found in this overly marketed varietal, grown north of Venice.

Walking back in the darkened narrow pathways, the dismal weather must have chased the majority of tourists inside except for me.

The day of Carnival the superbly costumed revelers came out.  They were all beautifully designed, and the vast majority were historic Venetian clothing.

Not once did I see any sleeziness or vulgar exhibitionist drapings, as I was accustomed to in New Orleans Mardi Gras.

There was no visible drunkenness either.  The revelers paraded around in a regal manner looking prideful posing for photos.

It was all pomp and circumstance rather than the crazy ludicrous zaniest that either shocks or amuses you found in  New Orleans.

Frankly, I could have used the merry madness one finds there.

I know that each district of Venice has several events leading up to the day of Carnival, so perhaps some of them are as rowdy and madly unfringed like the queen city on the mighty Mississippi.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next stop was to the huge and really beautiful glacier Lake Garda, the largest lake in Italy 200 kilometers west of Venice.

I had chosen the tiny medieval  village at the tip of a peninsula, jutting out into the clear waters of the lake called Sirmione.

I had read about the thermal spa there, now completely modernized overlooking the lake.  We stayed within the walls of the majestic castle for an easy walk to the spa.

The Terme di  Catullo  or Aquaria has waters from 2,500 meters under the lake that comes out 69 degrees C, full of sulphurous bromides to ease respiratory and rheumatoid conditions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We went at sunset and fortunately the sky was clear the turning the setting sun golden and pink as it sank into the horizon.

I love the outdoor pools much more than the inner ones.  There is something indescribably wonderful having my head barely above in swirling misting vapors and my body immersed in very warm bubbling waters.

Precisely why I enjoy thermal baths more in the winter than warm months.  Even better if immersed with falling snow like happened at the Blue Lagoon in Iceland,  Szechenyi baths in Budapest, and Amneville in Northern France.

The snow capped mountain of the Dolomites were off in the distance and golden lights reflected off Lake Garda.

Absolutely perfect scenery for a wounded soul to bask in nature.  Ancient healing waters from the center of the earth, a glacier lake, and sugar topped mountains were a wonderful healing balm.

Afterwards I felt totally in a twilight zone of utter calm and peaceful resolution.  A good restaurant was fortunately just across from the cute Le Reve b&b, where we stayed.

Homemade pasta with tomato, olive oil and lake fish was simple and succulent, as the glories of good Italian food should be.

The local white wine, a well structured Trebbiano di Lugana was quite perfumed with citron and white flowers.

Another wonderful wine discovery for me, as I always drink wine of each region that I travel.

Another great plus to traveling in Italy is uncovering their local wine treasures and there are many like in France.

We left at dawn the next morning to catch the  bus to Verona,  where we caught a train  to Bolzano, then another to the mountain village of Merano, very near the Austrian border.

It too has a famous thermal spa, a bicultural atmosphere, ski resorts, great wines and much more which I will write about next week.

A bientôt!