Venice & Murano: Private Walking Tour with Glass Art Lunch

4.79

(14 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

The first thing I remember is the slap of oars against water — not from a gondola, but this squat little traghetto packed with locals and us, wobbling across the Grand Canal. Our guide, Francesca, grinned as she steadied my elbow. She pointed out how the light bounced off the old palazzi, making everything look half-melted and golden. I’d seen photos of Venice before but never noticed how much you hear here — footsteps echoing under archways, someone arguing softly in Venetian dialect near Rialto market (I caught “pesce” and “prezzo,” so probably haggling over fish).

We wandered through narrow calli that smelled faintly of espresso and damp stone. Francesca had stories for every corner — like how Doge’s Palace once held secret trials behind those pink marble columns. At one point she stopped to greet an old friend who ran a tiny bakery; he handed us warm bussolai biscuits “for energy,” he said, winking. I tried to pronounce “grazie mille” properly but probably butchered it. The main keyword here is private Venice walking tour, but honestly it felt more like tagging along with a friend who knows everyone.

After crossing another bridge (I lost count), we hopped a ferry to Murano. The air changed — saltier, breezier somehow. Lunch was three courses at this family-run trattoria where the owner’s daughter poured water into our glasses with a shy smile. I still think about that risotto with cuttlefish ink; it looked odd but tasted like the sea in November. Then came the glass factory: heat from the furnace hit me as soon as we stepped inside, and watching the maestro shape molten glass into something delicate was almost hypnotic. He made it look easy — it isn’t.

The taxi ride back skimmed low over the lagoon, city fading behind us in pastel streaks. I leaned against the window just listening to water slap against wood again, thinking how strange and lucky it felt to see Venice this way — not rushed or crowded but kind of quietly stitched together by people who live here.