Ah, Vivaldi.

I've always had a thing for Vivaldi.  Musician, teacher, red-head - what's not to like?

So to stumble upon the Vivaldi Museum while wandering on my own is Venice was - indescribable.  (But I'm a writer - I'll try!)

My ears found it first.  I was strolling, gluten-free gelato in hand, drinking in the sights and sounds of Venice like a desperate tourist, when I heard it.

Violin music...

My heart, already pitter-pattering with the experience of walking through the city of canals, skipped several beats as it recognized 'The Four Seasons' as it drifted across a tiny square.  Rounding a corner, there it was - a beautiful building with inviting light and music spilling from an open doorway.

Inside, a beautiful display of violins and violas and cellos, those dark and mysterious stringed giants, graced a delightful hall.  Formerly a church, the reverence added immensely to the strains floating about, mesmerizing music, enchanted by the very spirit of Venice itself.

The effect was so overwhelming that I did a very touristy thing indeed.

I stopped and bought some Vivaldi CDs.

Who knew a dead guy could be such a great marketing gimmick?