We were supposed to go to Murano in August.  At the airport, I’d chosen my holiday reading – Marina Fiorato’s The Glassblower of Murano - specifically because of our own proposed trip to that very glassblowing island.  What I hadn’t counted on was the Italian heat at that time of year, and the fact that, in such a heat, glassblowing becomes a severely unpleasant activity.  Thus, in August, the glassblowers go on holiday and the workshops revert to being glass stores, trading on pieces blown in the months before.

So we picked up some rolls and cold meat and Italian biscuits, and travelled out to Burano instead.  It was still early, giving us plenty of time to get to the island which is located 14km and a 40 minute vaporetto ride from Venice.

While Murano is famous for its glass, it’s rhyming neighbour is known for its intricate lacework.  And there’s certainly plenty of stores along the main street of the island selling samples.  From bibs to bookmarks, table linen to tops – if it’s made in lace, it’s probably also made in Burano.

Aside from the lace, what stood out for me in Burano, was the lack of crowds.  Having just left the people filled alleys of Venice, it was lovely to walk down a side street in Burano, in between the multi-coloured houses, and be the only ones there.

Perhaps, next time I’m in Italy, I should look out for a book set in Burano.  Or perhaps, I should just move there and write one.

Tash