Murano

Murano, the island of glassblowers, where most people only come for a short time, buy a glass animal, and perhaps attend a demonstration in one of the many workshops, before visiting the next island, Burano, next door, is actually an idyllic small place with a canal as the main street and beautiful, well-kept courtyards in the side streets, which hardly anyone goes to.

I have vivid childhood memories of this island; I still remember how a light blue horse danced on its hind legs, flowing mane in the air, right before my eyes, and I had many glass animal families on round mirrors, always five in number: one large and four small. I recall swans and elephants certainly, but where have they gone?

Most of the items made here, admittedly with incredible craftsmanship, are, in my opinion, terribly ugly and extremely kitschy, especially the large colorful vases and chandeliers with glass flowers and leaves in all variations. In between, however, you occasionally see beautiful delicate drinking glasses and occasionally also original sculptures.

I have always wondered how the places and cities, houses and bridges, squares and towers, fountains and lanterns in Italy can be so stylish and wonderfully beautiful, and then inside you encounter so much pomp and ostentation, and tasteless monstrosities. Also, the churches are usually utterly overloaded and stuffed with too much art and decorations. Fortunately, life here mainly takes place outdoors.