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.
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?