I did something in Venice I rarely do: I got a room in the first hotel I entered.
Time was a factor, and I had a good feeling about the Locanda San Barnaba as soon as I walked in the door. (Ever since choosing a certain hotel in London in 1976, I have tended to trust my lodging instincts.)
From the bus terminal on the Piazzale Roma I had walked with my backpack along a canal, past some university buildings, across Campo Santa Margherita, over a bridge and through the smaller Campo San Barnaba, taking a left into a narrow street that led, eventually, to the Ca' Rezzonico vaporetto stop. On the right, a hanging lantern announced the entrance to the Locanda San Barnaba.
The man at reception wore a jacket and tie. The available single room was not what I had envisioned: just off the lobby, with windows giving onto the street, the single bed pushed against one wall. I of course had been thinking a balcony over a canal. But I remembered that most of my time in a hotel room is spent unconscious. And I liked the price of 110 euros a night (100 if I paid in cash).
Over four days I grew very attached to the room, and the hotel, and the neighborhood. Campo San Barnaba had everything one needed: a church (now a museum), a greengrocer who set up every day on his boat in the canal, a tabacchi, an osteria (where I had delicious mussels and clams in tomato sauce one evening) and a gelateria. A short walk away was Campo Santa Margherita, where every night students spilled from bars. And because this was in Dorsoduro, you saw more locals than tourists.
The receptionist at the Locanda San Barnaba was exceedingly helpful, checking addresses and giving directions. One evening, when I was looking for a flower shop, he not only told me where one was located, he called to make sure that it was still open. I should have given him the flowers.
