I flew into Venice on a clear blue day. Below me the lush farmlands of the Veneto morphed into marshes bordering on the sea. A network of small islands followed, before the beauty of Venice overshadowed them all. I could see every part of the city, from the Ghetto to the crowds milling outside San Marco.

The covered walkway from the airport was new - so new the travolators weren’t working. Making my way along it to the water-taxis I could see the snow-covered alps. I’d never appreciated before just how close they are to the city. Little wonder their forest-covered slopes have supplied endless wood (and boat builders) for Venice’s gondolas and maritime conquests.

On asking where I was heading, the ferrymen laughed at my pronunciation of Ca’ Rezzonico, as they helped me with my luggage. I clambered aboard and sat near the prow. I love approaching the city by water, whether in a sleek taxi or the slower, character-filled vaporetto. Each offers such a great introduction to Venice, so different to journeys to and from airport elsewhere around the world. Markers lined the channel leading from the airport - I had seen them from the plane. The vaporetto chugged along as the wooden taxis flew past, rocking us with their wake. A gentle sea breeze filled the air.

The waterways of Venice © A. Harrison

The vaporetto took its time detouring along the lagoon to stop at various outlying islands to drop and collect passengers. It then disorientated me by veering around the city and entering the Grand Canal from what I call the far end, near the Station di Venezia Santa Lucia, where in a few days I would leave to catch the train to Florence. On previous trips it’s always travelled via the San Marco end, traversing the Grand Canal in the opposite direction.

With the water sparkling, we continued at a leisurely pace trip along Grand Canal. As gulls called to one another above us, the vaporetto continued past the stately buildings (some in need of a little love). Side canals beckoned. The Rialto markets were still in full swing, and the Rialto Bridge already crowded with morning tourists.

We alighted at the Ca’ Rezzonico, the ferryman first making me practice its pronunciation. Ca’ Rezzonico (taking its name from a stunning palazzo which opens onto the water) lies in the Durosduro area of Venice, where even in summer the locals outnumber the tourists. It’s my favourite area to stay in this most magical of cities. Everywhere in Venice is in walking distance, the vaporettos are close by for when my feet are tired, and the place abounds with good cafes and restaurants that are affordable.

Art in the Campo San Barnaba; my small green door © A. Harrison

In a matter of minutes I had reached the Campo San Barnaba, one of the prettiest piazzas in Venice. To one end is the Ponte dei Pugni, white footprints at either end of the bridge marking where pugilist once stood before trying to throw one another into the canal below. Nearby floats a barge selling fruit and vegetables. The church of San Barnaba serves as the exterior for the library in Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade, and where Jones later emerges from the crypts into the square. Katherine Hepburn also fell into the canal here in Summer Madness.

I crossed the Rio de San Barnaba, and entered a maze of cobblestoned alleys. My AirBnb lay in an old building behind a small green door at the end of one of them.

Within proved just as delightful. Large wooden beams ran across the ceilings and the rooms offered views onto a courtyard and a small canal. Outside noises fell into our rooms as if from a distance; not enough to disturb my slumber, but enough to keep me connected to the outside world. A decent coffee machine allowed me to make a morning brew before venturing out for an espresso and chocolate croissant standing at the bar.The most gorgeous shops lined the winding alleyway - I looked into the windows of an art shop from our lounge room. Each shop was tiny, so different to each other, and totally gorgeous. Even the window displays were effortlessly artistic.

Each morning we would go out as locals made their way to work. Our alley was barely wide enough for people to pass one another, and cats from a local pet store would wind and purr through everyone’s legs. Of an evening we would come home, the lights of the shops falling into the darkness of the alley to lead us to our little green door.

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