Murano, Venice: Great Adventures with Glass Bones
If Venice glitters, then Murano is golden. The city of glass is every bit as magnificent and as delicately intricate as the product it prides itself on. If your travelling habits are driven by a need for rich culture and an experience that is pure, almost unexplainable magic, then Murano is the diamond in the rough.
Summer in the lagoon sizzles. The sun quickly creates a sticky kind of warmth, intensifying from the first blush of early morning to the last wink of daylight. It’s uncomfortable and yet desperately addictive. However, unlike some parts of inland Italy, Venice and its islands can expect some small relief from the soaring temperatures, thanks to the body of water pulling through its cracks, like cool ribbons, and the idling sea breeze tickles the sweat at the nape of your neck.
The thing about Venice is that it demands so much attention that even its more prominent roommates, like the Lido, can often go unnoticed. But it is unthinkable to visit Venice without making a day trip to Murano also. Once you have marvelled at St Mark’s Basilica reflected in the rising waters of the square, paid a shocking amount of money for the smallest (but fanciest) coffee and climbed the steps of the bell tower; try to escape the city’s thrall. Shake off the Doge’s Palace and turn away from the Bridge of Sighs; just for one afternoon ignore the pull of that one restaurant near l’Accademia bridge that has the best carbonara you will ever taste in your life, and get on the boat.
Taking a trip to Murano is like setting off on a true mythical journey. Vogler called it ‘The Call to Adventure’ and it starts, for me and for you, by leaving our lodgings in the centre of Venice and heading due north-ish, to the vaporetto stop called Fondamente Nove (abbreviated to F.te Nove). This is the very edge of the world and to get here requires more than just a keen eye on Google Maps. The thing about the streets of Venice is that the Google car cannot come and capture them. GPS information is based on footwork and satellite and sometimes it will happily lead you down a road to nowhere, or more accurately, straight into a quiet and greenish canal.
You have to trust your instincts, and fully put your faith in the yellow and often sporadic sign posts. One thing you will notice as you move further into the labyrinth, and the tourist fronted mask is allowed to slip, is the disdain some local Venetians have for the customers that keep them afloat, so to speak. But don’t let the striking, and sometimes angry, graffiti and posters fool you into thinking you are not welcome. This is not about you.
The ever increasing tourism to the area provides a lifeline to the business that have to sustain themselves throughout the whole year based on a successful season. But local protests against the larger cruise ships is understandable. I have stayed in many different styles of accommodation in the area, but I was both awed and disappointed that while checked into one of the most expensive hotels in the lagoon, my balcony had a front row seat to cruise ship after cruise ship ramming itself alongside the harbour wall.
Then imagine something close to biblical in production, as if Noah’s Ark had released all its animals at once and two by two by two by two the boat emptied its cargo. Imagine even more closely, as I have also had the unfortunate experience, to be stood in proximity of this event. It is like standing against a cresting wave. An impossible outpouring of people, with a limited time in one of Europe’s most iconic cities, hotfooting it to all the very best tourist traps. The human invasion itself aside, there is always a serious problem regarding pollution and underwater erosion. It is simply not sustainable.
San Marco Square floods almost on the daily now, as the tide comes in.
As of September 2019, after much local protest, and one particularly dramatic clash of steel when a cruise ship smashed into a dock, the government finally banned larger ships from some of its major waterways. Locals and protesters say it is not enough, and considering it will only divert some 30% or so of cruise vessels, they are probably right.
Responsible tourism is not something that goes hand-in-hand with these “must see” places, even though change is slowly making it possible. So Venice itself will always be assaulted by large crowds and amassing tourists in the spots you so desperately want to see also. This is where Murano comes to your rescue.
The boat ride from F.te Nove to Murano is short, with just one stop separating the two; a large cemetery on an island of its own. A stop you can only alight at if you signal to the conductor. But that is an adventure for another day. I always recommend you hop off at the first stop on the Murano map rather than the more popular “museo”.
The 4.2 line runs approximately every twenty minutes and picks up as many as it drops off. This ensures a steady influx and outgoings. That is, if you get there as early as you can, the island is essentially yours to explore.
Strike out for the glassworks first. As you do in Venice, get the main touristy bit under your belt before you carry on to the more quirkier and hidden offerings. Every time I have walked the long path to the glassworks (I assume the fenced walkway becomes very busy in peak times, but as I assured you, visiting as early as opening times will allow provides a calming experience that is both magical and crowd-free) I am always greeted by a cat. It’s not the same cat. But the cats on Murano are abundant and different. With eyes like the glass marbles, they embody the Italian philosophy il dolce far niente, a concept made famous by Julia Roberts in ‘Eat. Pray. Love.’ It’s the simple sweetness of doing nothing.
“Mimi” closed her perfect marble eyes for this photo. She doesn’t approve of paparazzi.
The glassworks is as hot as hell, and this comes from someone who is addicted to the burning heat of the Venetian sun. But this is a different kind of hot, the kind that makes your whole body throb like an angry wound. To become masters of their craft, apprentices will train in those temperatures all day, every day, for at least fifteen years.
But watching something being birthed by those master craftsmen, is nothing short of a miracle. The pull and twist and bend and manipulate a molten mixture into a bull, or a vase, or a lampshade. It is smacked around so much that it’s hard to believe that something so delicate is the finished product of all that careful violence. The tools, the oppressive heat, the toil and sweat; it all ends with something fragile and beautiful. It’s not hard to believe that some of those glass creatures have been given a piece of their soul in the process.
After marvelling at life’s spark within the glass models, I strongly suggest getting lost on your way to the next stop. Keep the main canal on your left or right and just walk. The streets will be relatively empty and there are so many picturesque bridges and waterways to snap that perfect Instagram shot. You won’t have to pretend that you were the only person there, because it’s the truth.
The only other thing that I recommend you have to go and see in Murano is the dragon bones. This is not a joke. There are a set of bones hanging in the back of a tall and impressive church snuggled into a small square.
Santa Maria e San Donato is the home of four rib bones from a dragon slain in the fourth century. Believe what you want, but even if it “isn’t” a dragon, it is definitely from something big and old, and it is still behind the altar for anyone to come and stare at.
However, I suggest using some simple powers of deduction before entering (also known as common sense, which, on the day I visited, I was severely lacking). If it is busy, with many people seated inside while you’re marvelling at the mosaic and the aforementioned dragon bones, and then upon emerging outside again there are even more people, dressed in sombre attire and crying… It is quite possible you have stumbled into a large Italian funeral.
Have you really lived until you have paused on a bridge opposite a Byzantine religious edifice, and witnessed a coffin pass beneath you, floated on a boat-hearse? Death and taxes. Even in the most beautiful place on earth.
The food is great on Murano, as it is almost anywhere in Italy. If you don’t spend the rest of your afternoon contemplating what it all means, and how life is too short, carpe diem that notion and idle between bookshops, stroking local cats, eating gelato, and posing for pictures on Every. Single. Bridge.
Murano is nothing if not restorative. It’s a dedicated and stalwart kind of place. A whole culture spun from glass, and even when it must sink into the sea like its heavier Venetian counterpart, at least it acknowledges its delicacy. Because, like a carefully crafted vase, it is only designed to withhold a finite amount of water. We cannot turn back the tide on this one, and it is unclear if it is environmentally ethical to hold it back either. So please, go and experience a little Murano magic while you can.
Written by Sarah
