Venice - Italy - page 309

The Architecture of Venice
Venice's buildings rest on flexible but immensely sturdy foundations made
of pine and oak piles, driven into the layers of sand and clay at the bot-
tom of the lagoon. These wooden piles are packed closely together in order
to form a solid enough base on which the brick or stone buildings can rest.
While the water of Venice served as a natural defense against invaders,
making the construction of genuine fortresses unnecessary, it also meant
that the structures were always damp inside. This is why there is seldom
much happening on the ground floor of canal-side buildings; not only was
this a place to load and offload boatfuls of people and supplies, but the
open arcades served as “breathing room” for the entire building.
10am-4pm, Sun 2-4pm) has a history infused with pirate-style adventure. In 828,
the remains of St. Mark the Evangelist were smuggled out of Egypt in a cask—
some say it was filled with pickled pork, others wine, but whatever the substance,
it was enough to deter Muslim guards from searching the casket, paving the way
for one of the greatest heists in the history of Christianity. All this chicanery is
actually recorded in one of the 17th-century mosaics above the entrance (see if
you can spot it on the right). Fanciful as the story sounds, St. Mark—who had
foreseen Venice as his final resting place in a vision—became the city's patron
saint; if you cast your eyes to the very top of the central arch above the facade,
you'll see a 15th-century statue of him, attended by angels. Also above the
entrance are four horses, which are actually replicas of another stolen treasure, the
Quadriga gilded bronze horses stowed today inside the Basilica.
The first church on this site burned down in the 9th century. The second ver-
sion was torn down so that, during the 11th century, a far more flamboyant
church could be built in direct imitation of Constantinople's Basilica of the
Apostles. The main structure was built according to a Greek cross plan; the
Oriental additions—perhaps most evident to the untrained eye in the five bul-
bous, onion-capped domes of the roof—remind us of Venice's connection with
Byzantium. It grew and grew over the years, to be aptly nicknamed the “Golden
Church,” largely thanks to the endless plunder brought back from the Orient by
Venice's thrifty marine fleet. Everything from columns to capitals to friezes were
filched and used for the steady upgrade of the church. Of course, the building
didn't exactly suffer from local neglect, and the ongoing attempts of various
wealthy nobles to out-donate each other also contributed to the immense wealth
of the Basilica.
For real gilt-edged sensory overload, join the queue and step inside. The visual
decadence within the most riveting and spectacularly confusing church in the
world, is a must-see. The queue for the Basilica may be long, but it usually moves
at a steady pace; be prepared by keeping shoulders and knees covered—this is a
house of worship, after all, and you'll be scanned, briefly, for modesty, as you
enter. Note: If you have brought large bags (particularly backpacks) with you, fol-
low the signs to the left-luggage facility.