Overlooking the Canal Grande, right in front of the famed Ca' d'Oro, the Hotel San Cassiano Ca' Favretto is conveniently located just 5 minutes from the Rialto Bridge and 15 minutes from the Saint Mark's Square.
Wonderful accommodation and service. Location magical as can be seen from the following description.
Everything had taken on a magical new light that morning and the view from the small bridge that crossed the Rio de Due Torri stopped me in my tracks.
Tall apartment buildings loomed upwards from the Rio, their crumbling, sun-baked walls revealing centuries of plasterwork and providing a watercolorist’s palette with umbers, sienna’s, sepia and ochre’s. It was the personification of the decaying opulence that is Venice. From a washing line, stretched between two buildings high above the water, a red chequered table cloth fluttered gaily in the light breeze. Alongside, rusting ornamental balconies, their window boxes spilling over with deepest red geraniums, transformed the scene into a painting.
I turned to the right and the visual feast continued. At the end of the Calle del Ravano, I could see the Grand Canal, covered in an early morning, gauzy light which reflected off the stunning palazzos opposite and shimmered their pastel colours into the lapping grey waters below.
The distant tolling of a church bell echoed round the canals as an old vaporetto trudged past, ploughing its way through an assortment of small boats carrying crates, provisions and building materials. And, in between, sleek black gondolas propelled by men in stripy tops and straw hats steered spellbound travelers along magical waterways with their distinctive sweet-sour, pungent smell.
If I was ever kidnapped and set down blindfold in Venice, I would know instantly where I was. And, I have to admit, I wouldn’t make the slightest attempt to escape!
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Everything had taken on a magical new light that morning and the view from the small bridge that crossed the Rio de Due Torri stopped me in my tracks.
Tall apartment buildings loomed upwards from the Rio, their crumbling, sun-baked walls revealing centuries of plasterwork and providing a watercolorist’s palette with umbers, sienna’s, sepia and ochre’s. It was the personification of the decaying opulence that is Venice. From a washing line, stretched between two buildings high above the water, a red chequered table cloth fluttered gaily in the light breeze. Alongside, rusting ornamental balconies, their window boxes spilling over with deepest red geraniums, transformed the scene into a painting.
I turned to the right and the visual feast continued. At the end of the Calle del Ravano, I could see the Grand Canal, covered in an early morning, gauzy light which reflected off the stunning palazzos opposite and shimmered their pastel colours into the lapping grey waters below.
The distant tolling of a church bell echoed round the canals as an old vaporetto trudged past, ploughing its way through an assortment of small boats carrying crates, provisions and building materials. And, in between, sleek black gondolas propelled by men in stripy tops and straw hats steered spellbound travelers along magical waterways with their distinctive sweet-sour, pungent smell.
If I was ever kidnapped and set down blindfold in Venice, I would know instantly where I was. And, I have to admit, I wouldn’t make the slightest attempt to escape!