Venice on a Friday evening

It's fair to say that Venice, when considered in totality, probably isn't as nice as Bellagio.  But Venice is itself quite unique.

In our two days here, we've had numerous plates of over-priced and only-average food. 

The queues for the various attractions are as memorable as the people in them are rude. 

The Rialto bridge is a riot; almost literally.  A bridge famed for its romance and beauty will be remembered by us for the continual scrum which takes place on it.  People physically fight to have the best view - and photograph - at the top of bridge.

It seems as though each water bus through the town centre carries about 1,000 people.  Travelling on one is a frenzied and over-priced affair.  Each stop of the bus initiates blind panic, as people push, barge and bite their way to the front to get off.   Their panic might be unjustified, as the bus stops only for a few seconds at each stop; the buses may come along as frequently as every one minute, but each seems equally crowded.

What about taking a taxi?  The short trip from the Rialto bridge to the station, near our hotel, cost around £30.  The boats don't travel so quickly, but they do ruthlessly drive at (and I do mean, drive directly at) the gondolas; let's not talk about the price of a gondola trip.

Venice is a city of contradictions.

I write to you on a Friday night from the San Carlo square in the heart of Venice's tourist district.  We are sat in the Caffé Florian, under the moon and in the shadow of the Basilica di San Marco, listening to a 6-piece string orchestra. 

At times like this, you'd be hard pushed not to describe Venice as the most romantic city in the world.

Then again, the coffee we've just had cost around £7, and later we'll have the choice between taking our lives into our own hands on the water bus, or taking a second mortgage and a water taxi.