Tuesday was the last day of Carnevale – and my last chance to wear one of the getups that were now all bunched up on the bottom of my suitcase. I looked at them with dismay. I couldn’t imagine venturing out in anything so lightweight, and there was certainly no way I could layer enough clothing underneath one of my costumes to keep warm. I finally admitted that I would freeze to death in my thin little ensembles. So, attired in almost everything else I brought, I headed for the Piazza San Marco.
My Venetian friends had invited me to come to Venice for Carnevale, saying I could use a studio apartment kept for family and friends. This was an offer I couldn’t refuse, so I arranged my schedule to be in Venice the last week of Carnevale. After, as an added treat, I would stop off in Paris for the weekend before heading home.
I queried everyone I knew who had actually been to Venice at Carnevale time. One unanimous fact learned was that Venice is cold in February, and I was advised to wear my warmest clothing and take along chemical pocket warmers. I thought I knew what cold was, but it turns out I had a lot to learn.
Planning what to take was fun. I have a trunk filled with wonderful costumes and, after trying them all on, decided to take my Pierrot and Midnight Sky ensembles. Both are made of silk and tulle and therefore easy to pack. It never occurred to me they wouldn’t be warm enough. I thought adding my long underwear, with a few pocket warmers tucked here and there, would be sufficient. After all, I reasoned, I am almost never cold.
It was early evening when I arrived at Marco Polo Airport. My friend Nereo was waiting at customs and whisked me out to his car and sped off toward Venezia. After leaving the car at the autopark, we hopped aboard a Vaporetto headed down the Canale Grande. I was so excited at once again being in Venice I didn’t feel anything but a delicious tingling sensation. Ah, I thought, La Serenissima, I’ve come home.
My other friends, Carol and Marilena, were waiting in the main house, so I popped into the studio just long enough to unload my bags and freshen up. It wasn’t until much later, after we wandered the streets and alleyways, drank red wine and ate panini at a friends’ wine bar, danced in one of the small campi with other Carnevale revelers, and drank several shots of grappa, that I found myself back in the studio and freezing. I had forgotten to leave the heater on, and the place was frigid.
The studio is located on the ground floor of the palazzo and has stone walls and tiled floors. There is a canal just outside and the waters’ damp cold seemed to penetrate everything. When I stayed there last September, the weather was hot and humid, and the studio became an oasis of cool relief. This freezing cold came as an unwelcome surprise.
I looked at my silk pajamas with dismay. How would those skimpy things keep me warm? So I layered a T-shirt, the p.j.’s, my travel robe and a pair of socks, then crawled into bed and pulled the heavy blanket up to my chin. I lay there shivering for a while then, warm at last, I fell asleep watching exquisite reflections of water playing on the old wooden beams of the ceiling.
I awoke to the comforting sounds of bells chiming from the church across the canal. I hopped out of bed just long enough to turn up the heater – but long enough to realize it was still nippy and the tiled floor was icy cold. Ultimately the thought of a hot, strong coffee bribed me out of my cozy nest.
I was dressed and ready when Carol came down to see if I was awake. She said it was very cold out and I should be sure to dress warmly. Of course I had already figured that out, but obediently I pulled on an additional sweater.
When we stepped outside, an icy gust of wind whipped around the corner and through all my layers of clothing and down into my bones. We decided that if we walked rapidly we wouldn’t feel the cold as much. Once at the Piazza San Marco we forgot about being chilly and lost ourselves in the crowds. We scurried around like paparazzi snapping photos of the gorgeous costumed characters posing among the merrymakers.
We bought some Fritole and Galani, the delicious treats available only during Carnevale. Fritole are little round balls with small pieces of dried fruit and pine nuts inside, fried then abundantly sprinkled with granulated sugar. Galani are fried strips of sweet dough, lavishly dusted with powdered sugar. We washed them down with hot spiced wine.
The thought of wearing one of my cute costumes later in the day, say after lunch, was quickly squelched when I poked my nose out the window and saw it had begun to mist. The air felt even colder than it had that morning.