The lagoon was hushed that morning as we boarded Line 12 from Fondamente Nove, bundled against the cool November air. Venice had a misty glow — the kind of soft light that makes the canals look like silver glass. Our ferry sliced across the lagoon toward Burano, the most colorful island in Italy and our first stop of the day.
As we stepped off the boat, we quickly realized this visit would be a little different than the postcards promised — high tide season, or acqua alta, had arrived. Shallow puddles shimmered along the cobblestone streets, and wooden planks were set out like raised walkways. The locals didn’t seem to mind; they carried on cheerfully in tall rubber boots, chatting across doorways and sweeping water away from their bright-painted homes.
Even with the flooding, Burano was breathtaking. Every house looked handpicked from a painter’s palette — sunflower yellow, coral pink, sea blue, and lime green reflected in the watery streets. The colors aren’t random; they follow an old island system dating back centuries, where families had to request permission to repaint their homes in specific hues. We wandered slowly, stopping for pastries and espresso, watching the morning unfold at its own rhythm. Burano has been famous since the 1500s for its lace-making, a craft that once rivaled the finest lace in France. Delicate designs hang in shop windows, and lace makers still sit by the doorways, carrying on a tradition that nearly vanished in the modern era.
By late morning, we boarded another vaporetto toward Murano, just a short ride away but an entirely different world. While Burano celebrates color, Murano’s identity is forged in fire. Since the late 13th century, it has been the home of Venetian glassblowers, moved here by decree of the Republic to prevent fires and keep their techniques secret. At the Colleoni Glass Factory, we watched a craftsman turn molten glass into a prancing horse — shaping it in seconds before it cooled. The children were spellbound, and it was easy to understand why Murano glass is still prized across the world.
Rick Steves’ voice guided us once again as we cruised back across the lagoon, telling stories of Venice’s history — of trade routes that brought spices, silk, and art to Europe, and of how this floating empire once ruled the seas. During World War II, U.S. and Allied troops used nearby bases to deliver supplies into liberated Italy, helping revive the very ports that had connected Venice to the world for a millennium.
As evening fell, the water glowed gold beneath the setting sun, the city slowly emerging again in the distance. We crossed back over the Grand Canal by traghetto, standing shoulder to shoulder with locals as gondolas drifted past. Venice sparkled in the twilight, and though our shoes were a little wet from Burano’s tides, it felt like part of the story — proof that even when the sea rises, this city and its islands endure, just as they have for centuries.
On to Murano
