Molino Stucky Hilton
I was really stoked!
The posters are up in vaporetto stops all over town:
SUSHI AT SKYLINE
Every Friday at 7.30pm.
Presented by Chef Aquira
I love sushi and had never been to the Skyline Bar. I couldn't wait to go. Friday at 7:30 pm.
But my work schedule is erratic and it took three weeks before I could finally arrange to meet Robin at the Zattere vaporetto stop at 7-15.
We took the No. 2 across the Giudecca Canal and got off at the Palanca stop for a pleasant stroll up Giudecca to the hotel. A gallery poster caught Robin's eye and she snapped it with her camera/phone so she wouldn't forget it. The dusk was still light and rosy, the air moist and fragrant.
Passing Fortuny we laughed about what a small world Venice is. A good friend of Robin's is a good friend of the chap who helped Richard at Fortuny when I went with him last week. She also confirmed that yes, there is a swimming pool behind Countess Gozzi's palazzina, "dug beneath the canal line to boot."
The Molino Stucky was a flour mill; it is massive, neo-Gothic, and would look at home in Berlin or Chicago. But at least the exterior has character. The interior of the hotel has none. Nor does it have a sense of place. It could be anywhere; it would be equally as bland and unrevealing wherever it was. I stopped to ask the Concierge how to get to the bar but she was too busy on the phone to answer a question, as was the girl who was doing nothing nearby.
Richard had warned me. He had gone to the Skyline Bar for a drink one evening and sat for twenty minutes without anyone serving him. He swore never to return.
We spotted the elevator and hit 8 for the bar. What we stepped out into was something else. To the west, the sun was setting over the industrial skyline of Marghera. To the east, Venice glittered in the pink and golden light. The view is stunning wherever you look.
We went from the west terrace through the bar to the east terrace. More drinkers, more gawkers. No sushi in sight.
I walked over to the empty host station and a passing waiter stopped.
"Are you doing sushi tonight?" I asked.
He looked confused.
"I saw the posters," I said. "Sushi on Fridays at 7:30."
"No," he said. "Not tonight."
The posters have been up for weeks.
"When should we come back for sushi?" I asked.
He smiled helpfully.
"Next year," he said. "I think maybe next year for sushi."
It was not April Fool's Day, but it is only April. A long wait.
We laughed over surprisingly good big 11 euro spritz al aperols with toast rounds, toppings and fat green olives. How could you do anything but laugh. It was so perfectly Venetian.
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