I find it hard to put my finger on the city or its people. Not quite Italian or Slavic, there is rude mixture of genetic throwback which makes the Venetians fiery and hot-blooded and saturnine and big faced. These resourceful, mercantile amphibians rule their intriguing and mysterious city with contempt and indifference to outsiders.
Simply put, London is rubbish at food markets. Yes, we have Borough Market (inexplicably only open three days a week) and we have some very decent farmers' markets in suburban car parks, but there is nowhere in the capital that comes even close to the glorious Rialto Market in Venice or the sumptuous San Miguel Market in Madrid or the vibrant Cours Saleya Flower market in Nice.
This past weekend was the inaugural MORE Festival. It was four days of live performances by French indie bands and acclaimed DJs playing beautiful historic venues across Venice, Italy.
But as I walk into the Pavilions, I forget all my troubles, all the hassles getting to Venice, all the constant queues (and my footwear); I am transported into the magic of the Art. All the pavilions are offering something to discover, to receive, to learn from. And that makes me humble and so happy.
Something very special that happens every year without fail and without any doom nor gloom, just plenty of elegance, colour and tradition. It is the event of the year in Venice's calendar and it explains why you'll find rows and rows of masks in the souvenir shops and how you will find the magic of Venice is still alive.