Star Collector: Italian Trio

The airport for Puerto La Cruz in northeast on the Caribbean. Isla de Margarita is off the coast.

The French Riviera is synonymous with beaches, splendid scenery and fascinating people, and nowhere is this more evident than in Cannes. Artists, writers, actors and jet-setters from the world over come here to enjoy the elegant boutiques, art galleries, extravagant restaurants and hotels along the Cote d’Azur.

And of course, the annual Cannes Film Festival draws the creme de la creme of trendsetting celebrities. Nearby is the town of Grasse, known for its fields of fragrant blossoms and perfume factory, and further along is St. Paul-de-Vence, a fortified medieval town perched high atop a hill. It was here that painter Marc Chagall lived and was inspired to create many of his Expressionist masterpieces.

Ah, the French Riviera…is yours for the taking, for a few hours anyway, when you leave the town of Villefranche to tour Monaco, Monte Carlo,St.-Paul-de-Vence, Cannes, and the Grand Corniche.

Monaco is one of the smallest nation’s of the World and Monte Carlo is its city with the Palace place on top of a high rock overlooking the city, the quaint port and the Meditteranean Sea. The small town and Palace area are a must. Plan to spend at least half of a day exploring the many shops along the narrow streets and enjoy the views from the Palace grounds.

Monte-Carlo was founded in 1866 during the reign of Charles III,who gave it his name. This area includes the world famous Casino, great hotels and the recently completed recreational centers consisting of the Centenaire gardens, the Larvotto beach and the Monte-Carlo Sporting Club.

Rome wasn’t built in a day…but you can tour it in just over 10 hours. A teeming anthill of humanity and antiquity intermingled with awful traffic jams, Rome grew up on the Tiber (“Fiume Tevere”) among seven low hills that rise from the river’s soggy eastern banks. It’s a city of many peeling layers of history, of which the bottom layer–that of the earliest Roman centuries–is the most interesting and still astonishingly whole. The hub of this layer is the Palatine Hill, the Forum, the Colosseum and the Circus Maximus.

On the western bank is the Citta Vaticana, the independent papal city where the Pope blesses pilgrims from all over the world. Neighboring Trastevere (“Across the Tiber”) is a mix of Roman, Greek and Jewish subcultures, great for little restaurants and nightlife. Further north on the other bank is “vecchia Roma,” medieval Rome of the Pantheon and Piazza Navona; Renaissance Rome is centered south of the Corso Vittorio Emanuele. Commercial Rome is the city of the Via del Corso, the Piazza del Popolo, the controversial Victor Emmanuel monument and finally the Stazione Termini, the nexus for all trains and roads from Rome.

As you approach the city over the bridge from the Italian mainland, you leave behind terra firma and, with it, earthbound notions of how to see and experience a city. Venice is not solely the spill of churches and palazzi on either side of the Grand Canal, but rather a city of islands, 118 in all, some of which are little more than the weedy, humps you see in the Lagoon of Venice. And yet these mud flats provided haven for the people who fled here (without benefit of a bridge) from Huns, Visigoths, and other marauders in the fifth century. And those refugees gave birth to a culture that ripened into a thousand years of greatness.

As you near the end of the bridge, you see at first only the back side of the city itself. But in the time it takes to walk through the train station, you begin to hear sounds peculiarly Venetian–the low rumble of boat motors, a humid incubation of voices, water lapping insistently against wood and stone. And then Venice confers her greatest gift: No matter how many times you’ve been here, it always seems, in that first glimse, like the first time.

If you are smart, you will immediately start a tour down the Grand Canal by hopping on a vaporetto (water bus) or gondola or water taxi. If you are lucky, it will be during those few hours before sunset when the light shines most kindly on the venerable facades that line this liquid boulevard. If you are particularly observant, you might even notice that neither the light nor the colors are quite Italian, not like the tawny earth tones of Florence or Rome.

The canal is a murkey green, the palazzi a mix of faded, grimy sherbets–watermarked mint and sun-blanched apricot and deep overripe peach. Sunlight shatters into spangles on the water, gondolas knife bach and forth, the Rialto Bridge looms overhead, and then, beyond one final curve, the Palladian church of Santa Maria della Salute and the Campanile (bell tower) of San Marco come into view.

Piazza san Marco is Venice’s grand salon–expansive, familiar, picturesque, pigeonesque. It is anchored at its eastern extreme by the Basilica di San Marco, which is not only the spiritual seat of Venice’s patron saint but also one of the most glittering monuments of Christendom.