The Fallen Woman

Violetta took 35 minutes to die but we appreciated the effort.

The morning began with a longish walk to the Jewish Ghetto. The map failed us again but not the smartphone. There was a plan to shop but not much interested Lyn. In the ghetto we just caught the tour but wished we hadn't. The guide was an unpleasant woman who ticked us off for losing her at one point, responded passively-aggressively to questions from members of the group and generally made everyone uncomfortable. The synagogues were ancient and tiny. Ghetto meant 'foundry' in Veneziano and nobody locked in Venice's prosperous Jewish population except at night. Restricted in where they could live the Jews added storeys to the buildings. Released from our nasty guide we headed back toward home. Lyn's only purchases were stockings and another Donna Leon crime thriller. (These are set in Venice. We keep recognising places mentioned in the novels.)

The Ark

After prosecco and an afternoon nap we headed for the opera. La Fenice means 'The Phoenix' which is ironic since it burned down and had to be rebuilt. It is gorgeous. Our seats were four floors up in the loggia. We could see and hear fine but if we looked straight ahead we were at the same height as the chandeliers. 

As the show began, La Traviata, the two seats next to us were occupied by two young Italian men. 6-7 minutes later an usher and a Korean couple appeared. These were their seats. The usher walked away leaving the four of them to sort it. Miss Korea took direct action. She stood in front of the poachers blocking their view, and the view of everybody behind them. Outrage ensued. After a minute of this stand-off the Italians left. But at the first interval one returned to berate the couple on the subject of theatre etiquette. Meanwhile Lyn, fascinated by the off stage rather than the on stage drama, interrogated an usher and discovered that the latecomers should not have been allowed to take their seats until interval.

Then it was back to the troubles of poor Violetta who just couldn't make things work with her boyfriend's dad. She'd been happy as a tart but then fell in love and got religion. It didn't look good for anybody so we cheered up with more prosecco at the long interval.

 Act Three, and Violetta began her 35 minutes of dying. She was a trooper though and kept singing. Finally she passed away. The young soprano was the undoubted star, ably supported by her impressive cleavage. We all bravoed and then headed home. But wait! I'd left my puffy jacket in the loggia. Up I ran. By the time I'd run the course I think I felt a bit like Violetta - at about the 34 minute mark.

Ms Dotto as Violetta in a happier moment

Back home we finished the evening with food - and prosecco.