Home to Venice
An early start saw me arriving at the airport with time to spare. Manchester Airport is clearly in a state of transition at the moment, undergoing a major £1.3bn transformation. Most airlines are gradually being moved into the expanded and refurbished Terminal 2, with Terminal 1 set to close and its operations shifting to T2 or T3. Terminal 3, meanwhile, will largely serve low-cost carriers. Despite this, my airline advised passengers to continue using Terminal 1, from where we were guided through to Terminal 3. Credit where it’s due, Ryanair’s signage was clear and easy to follow.
The newly installed security screening at Manchester made a noticeable difference, with passengers moving through far quicker than in previous years. That said, at 6am the airport was still fairly quiet, lending the whole experience a calm, unhurried feel.
A minor delay at the gate caused by scanner issues briefly threatened the schedule, but it was negligible, especially considering Ryanair’s reputation and the sometimes substantial delays they’re known for.
Landing in Venice, I opted for the water bus from the airport, a decision that felt entirely fitting for a city built on water. These small ferries run frequently and take just over an hour and a half to reach St Mark’s Square, with fares starting at €18. The journey includes stops at various piers along the way, adding time but also character. Additional luggage can be paid for online, though unless you’re travelling heavy, it’s unnecessary. With just a cabin bag and camera bag, I passed without issue. For those seeking speed and indulgence, private launches are available, shaving around 80 minutes off the journey time at a rather eye-watering €130.
I arrived in Venice shortly after 3pm and checked into the Royal San Marco Hotel, conveniently located a short walk from the San Marco pier. My room was on the sixth floor, though the lift only travels as far as the fourth. Four staircases later, I reached Room 602 my base for the next seven nights.
January in Venice has a distinct chill, and my room reflected that. It was cold and undeniably dated, with laminate flooring showing its age. The two single beds at least offered a choice. A small desk at the foot of the bed would prove useful somewhere to sit and review photographs later in the evenings.
An old heater laboured noisily to produce warm air, but the clatter made it clear that a peaceful night’s sleep wouldn’t be possible with it running. The en suite was even colder, with no obvious heating, and while functional, it shared the same tired, dated feel. Wi-Fi was unreliable, though I later discovered a usable signal on the fourth floor was possible and, unexpectedly, BBC World News was available on the television.
Booking through an online platform often feels like a double edged sword, and this stay reinforced that impression. It’s widely known that sites such as Booking.com take commissions of 20% or more, and hotels don’t always hide their displeasure. I’ve noticed before that rooms allocated through third-party bookings are often the least desirable, and Room 602 seemed to confirm the theory — top floor, furthest from reception, and at the very end of the corridor.
A quick search on Apple Maps led me to Devil’s Forest Pub, an independent bar with the unmistakable feel of a London ale house crossed with an Irish pub. European beers flowed freely, lagers were plentiful, and naturally, the black stuff made an appearance.
Dinner that evening was at Il Ridotto, in the Castello district, a short walk from St Mark’s Square. A refined, formal dining room with a strong focus on fish and seafood, it proved an excellent choice. Highly recommended — though your wallet will certainly notice the experience. £££