Acqua Alta

So, you may be wondering what Acqua Alta, why was it mentioned in the last post, and why would I dedicate a post specifically for it. Well, we were wondering the same thing as we witnessed the strange occurance.

A normal day in Piazza San Marco.

It all started at about 3 in the afternoon, when I heard a sound that was uncannningly similar to an air raid siren from WWII movies. It sounded once and then...nothing.
Hours later we were seated outside at a popular restaurant right on the canal, pretty hard to find choice seats like this during tourist season. The young couple in front of us were no doubt thinking the same thing as they had scored a table right in the canal edge, a table we had previously passed up thinking that we may get splashed from passing boats. We watched the water from the canal started lapping up against their table and chairs, we watched as they shifted uncomfortably as the water started tickling their feet, and we watched as they finished their meal early and left quikly; smug in ur choice of table, nice views and no water.

Water? In Venice? Well, I never!

Next, we watched as crowds of tourists made walked across a nearby bridge only to return, looking somewhat confused and miffed, minutes later. The water continued to rise.
Next we saw tourists striding along with large plastic bags, tied off at the knee covering their lower legs and shoes and locals walking past in gumboots. We looked at the water nearing our table, at the plastic bags, the gumboots, and the crowds of tourists walking backwards and forwards and I turned to Gemma to say, "No need to worry, my shoes are waterproof"
"What about me and my shoes"
"Well, I don't see how that's my problem"

I did formulate a plan. Venice is a maze of streets, surely one of them will be dry (in the background crowds of Venetians are laughing at that comment). However, we did okay. We made it all the way to the Rialto bridge without issue, along teh way meeting a lovely elderly couple, whom had been provided stylish plastic bags by the restaurant they had eaten in. This, however, created a difficulty for them, because not only were they lost, but plastic does not offer much grip of wet cobblestones. So, arm in arm, Gemma and I guided them to the bridge (their hotel was not far from there) supporting them in the 'treacherous' but comic journey.

 

 Baiky taking a swim in Piazzo San Marco with Gemma and I. By this stage  we were wet enought having a paddle didn't really matter any more, although I imagine hotel staff had a difference opinion...

By this stage, my planning had kept Gemma and I relatively dry. But alas, not two blocks from our hotel the water raised to heights not yet seen, and despite trying every avenue possible to the hotel it ended up a brave slog through shin deep water. My ankle-length waterproof runners futile against such depths.

View from our hotel window; their was no getting around that!

If you haven't put it together yet, the siren is the cities method of alerting citizens of the upcoming raise in tides. Probably somethig that would have been useful to know before we went.
In an unfirtunate turn of circumsances, the siren sounded again the next day, however, we were traipsing around Murano, Burano, and Torcello so were once again caught unprepared.
I have researched various sites on this phenomenon and many have said it happens maybe once or twice a year, but the fact it happened twice in our stay, I imagine it is more often then that.