Just about two years ago, as Suzy and I were finalizing our plans for our trip to Germany to pick up our new car, we faced an unusual situation.  How to spend a couple of weeks between Munich and our villa in Cannara where we had a few commitments planned.  We had already drawn up the broad outlines of the trip – a few days in Germany followed by our first visit to the northern Italian region of Trentino.  From Trento we were going to head east to the Veneto and visit Treviso (too many “T” towns for Suzy) and then work our way down the Adriatic coast before landing home in Umbria.  We were, after all, buying a new car and wanted to give it a good workout.

Although we were going to be near Venice, we had sort of decided not to make a stop there, having been for a few days recently and wanting to try something new.  But as our departure day grew closer we suddenly realized that our visit would coincide with Carnevale in Venice.  With that realization a light bulb went off and some intense planning began.

At first we assumed we would be unable to find a hotel room in la serenissima without paying a king’s ransom.  But with a little internet research we were able to book a room at the Luna Baglione, the same hotel we had stayed at less than a year earlier and located just around the corner from Harry’s Bar, a few paces from San Marco square, at its normal, inflated price.  No Carnevale premium.  We snatched up a room and began to plan our Carnevale adventure.

Carnevale is a costume party and again we went to the internet to research our options.  Unfortunately, the internet is inhabited largely by cheap losers with whom we hope we have little in common.  There was page after page describing how you could make your own Carnevale costume in order to save a few euros (or pounds).  There was precious little information on where to rent the real deal.  But with some perseverance we found a couple of ateliers that specialized in costume rentals.  With some trepidation that we were being ripped off, but with few alternatives, we pressed the send key and committed to a couple of extravagant costumes to be fitted and picked up upon our arrival.

Where to wear the costumes?  Our previous visits to Venice had pretty much been drive by affairs.  We had seen the sights but hadn’t really gotten under its skin.  We did know this much, however, the Hotel Danieli, with its commanding position over the lagoon right around the corner from San Marco Square was one of the city’s cultural centers.  And so when the internet (again) seemed to be telling us that an important ball, with tickets still available, was taking place at the Danieli, we again took the plunge and pressed the send key.  To say that we were placing an extraordinary amount of faith in our internet research capabilities would be a profound understatement.

And so, in the course of an evening, a very late night affair, Venice and its famed Carnevale made its way into our intinerary.  On paper we had dropped a lot of cash and were without any real confidence that we had made wise, legal or ethical choices.  Only time would tell.

And just a couple of weeks later it did tell.  And we had done well.

The Luna Baglione, the one known in our Carnevale equation, was superb.  Our room was stunning, spacious and decked out with a four poster bed and antique furnishings.  We were greeted upon our arrival with an enthusiasm and warmth that we had not noticed on our previous visit.  Carnevale, it was obvious from the moment we checked in, really affected everything in Venice.

After checking into the Luna, we got directions to the atelier where we had rented our costumes online.  A pity, we were told, as there was an atelier right in the lobby of the hotel during Carnevale, who could have provided us costumes without the need for crossing town.  But cross town, or more accurately, cross the canal we did, finding with some difficulty a tiny shop down a tinier alley.  And entering it we realize it was not a pity, nor had we made a mistake.  This cramped little shop, unlike the Luna’s temporary setup, did one thing only.  Costumes for Carnevale.  Like those odd little Christmas shops that are open year round, selling ornaments and stuffed Santas in the heat of summer, this shop was probably an anomaly eleven months of the year.  But we were here at the beginning of Carnevale and for these few days it was the most important place on earth.

We spoke to the seamstress who ran the shop and told her of our internet order.  The costumes that we had spent hours selecting online were pretty much irrelevant.  For although we had paid our rental fee and selected styles, sizes and colors, nothing we had ordered was available in the shop.  It was little matter, though, as the actual selection in the shop was vast.  It had been difficult to choose when we went through the process online.  It was almost more difficult to do so in person.

But choose we did, with the help of the seamstress.  And she helped us try on these seventeenth century contraptions, clothing from a bygone era with hoops, buttons, straps and all manner of lacey doodads.  No snaps, zippers or Velcro here.

For an hour or so we tried on outfits and finally settled on one for each of us.  And the effect was electric.  When we tied on the mask and put the tricornered hat in place we were no longer Bill and Suzy.  But we were primed for a most excellent adventure.

And so we dressed back in our street clothes and made our way back to the Luna, enjoying Venice in its normal Venice-like way.  But as the sun began to sink over the canal our evening at the Danieli began to beckon us.

After a cocktail or two at Harry’s Bar, we returned to the Luna and began redressing for the ball at the Danieli.  Fortunately not a great deal of time had passed since trying on our costumes, so the memory of how to dress ourselves was still fresh.  And after about a half hour we were decked out for the ball, with pettycoats, waistcoats, lacy collars, stockings (for Bill and Suzy), shiny shoes and, most importantly, masks.  And for all of the finery and seventeenth century detail it is undeniable that the single most important accessory at Carnevale is the mask.  There is a certain anonymity and freedom that comes by covering the small patch of skin around your eyes and nose.  It is silly in a way – no one in Venice knows who you are anyway, but when you cover that tiny portion of your face you become anonymous not to others, but to yourself.  It is completely liberating and a completely unique feeling.

So off to the Danieli we headed, a short seven minute walk that took us through the Piazza San Marco, in front of Saint Mark’s basilica, around the Doge’s palace and along the canal past the Bridge of Sighs.  In San Marco square a stage was being set up for an outdoor concert and dancing and already men and women in costume were congregating, with men in powdered wigs offering up dances to tourists as the sound check was being done.  We arrived at the Danieli and were struck by its opulence, it looked like our room at the Luna, only hotel sized.  Despite being in costume, no one from the staff offered any help, pointing us to where the ball would be taking place, but after a few false starts we found a staircase to the ballroom.  And as we descended the grand staircase we were greeted by some staffers who welcomed us and had us re-descend so we could be introduced and our picture taken.

We then got our seat assignment and headed to the bar for a drink when we realized our twenty first century mistake.  In the times of Casanova and castrati tenors, men probably carried sacks with gold florins or some such currency.  I, however, had neglected my sack or my modern wallet.  I had violated the cardinal rule drilled into me by TV ads since I was a child.  I did leave home without it.  And without it, and by it I mean my American Express card, my MasterCard and Visa, my euro or any means of payment there would be no drink.

So it was back to the Luna to retrieve my wallet.  And along the walk back to the hotel, back through San Marco square, I realized just what anonymity is.  For right in the middle of square, which I was traversing at a rather rapid pace, I was attacked by a group of Japanese tourists.  Mistaking me for one of the city’s costumed dancer partners, this group of giggling easterners insisted that I give them a dance.  And so my hasty return to retrieve my wallet was delayed as I showed each of them my own special version of the gavotte.  It was bizarre and totally enthralling at the same time, and only made possible by the small strip of leather tied around my head, with eyeholes that allowed me to see the world but the world to not see me.  In Venice, with a mask, you no longer are yourself.  You cease to be.

Or so I thought.  But upon returning to the Danieli, this time with my wallet, I descended the ballroom stairs for a third time.  The reception area was now empty, as the guests had been shepherded to their tables.  I met a lone staffer who started to escort me into the ballroom.  Did I need to check in again, I started to ask, worried that I might be thought to be a crasher?  No need, I was told.  I recognize you from earlier.

How, might I ask, is it possible that a staffer handling hundreds of people checking into Venice’s premiere Carnevale ball, every one in waistcoats and great coats and lace and knickers and hats, powdered wigs and canes and masks.  How is it possible that this staffer “recognized me from earlier?”  Especially when I had just learned to enjoy the anonymity of the mask in San Marco Square.  How is it possible?  I guess I’ll just have to return to Carnevale some day to find out.