Luxurious Lido, the Budget-Friendly Beach of Venice

Thanks to a last-minute travel buddy and an over-booked hostel, I ended up finding a silky-sand beach near Venice, Italy on a backpacker-friendly budget. You might be under the mistaken impression that Venice is all about pungent canals, overpriced-everything and couples-only romance. I hope this post changes your mind, because Venice is high on my list of places I’m so glad I saw in person.

First of all, my number one tip for Venice (Venecia/Venezia) is simply to go there! Many backpackers I met chose not to, because of its distance from Rome, its reputation as expensive or its reputation as romantic. Well, by train it’s only four hours from Rome and two from Florence, plus it would be easy to stop in while traveling to or from Austria, Slovenia or Croatia. Lodging was only €5-10 more than Rome, and food and public transit prices were comparable to all other Italian locales I visited.

Rather than making this part of my trip alone, I met a nice American on a Roman rooftop party who said he’d be up for platonically joining my trip to Venice the next day. We booked what appeared to be one of the few-remaining hostels rooms in Venice and then took the train trip north east across Italy. Maybe that seems a little strange, meeting someone at a party and traveling with them 12 hours later, but such is the way of “solo” travel when you get a good feeling about someone.

Upon arriving in Venice, we purchased three-day passes for the vaporetto public transit boat system for €24 and took the awe-inspiring float through the Grand Canal. I always adore taking boat rides through cities (like the Bateaux Mouches through Paris and the architecture cruise from Navy Pier through downtown Chicago), and this is a particularly perfect way to get a first taste of Venetian architecture. But here is my number two tipabout Venice: don’t get off the boat at the last stop in the city. Choose one that goes to Lido just a few minutes across the bay. I usually look for hostels as close to the city centers as possible, at least for the first night, but given the last-minute time frame and availability, our hostel happened to be somewhere in this distinctive suburb of sorts.

We walked through down the charming main drag full of restaurants, shopping and gelato stands to the address our hostel-booking website had given us. However, the proprietor apologetically explained that he was overbooked but had found us a place that would give us a room at the same rate. After a variety of “interesting” experiences with the Italian-style of doing business (e.g., be very patient, don’t expect answers to your questions, don’t hand over any cash until you have no choice), I was dubious. The hotelier gave us a slip of paper and we continued to the new address, expecting to find a dark doorway in a grafittoed-alley.

Instead, we found a three-star hotel room complete with crystal chandeliers, a private bathtub, a television, and an included breakfast that featured drip coffee. Drip coffee! Not “Americano” watered-down-with-disdain espresso — real joe. Call me crazy, but disguising the deliciousness of coffee with foamy milk or compressing a mug’s worth of warmth into two fluid ounces is not how I prefer my java. I’d been lamenting cappuccino and espresso in France and Italy for five weeks at this point, and I truly couldn’t have been more delighted to have two eight-ounce mugs of drip coffee to start my days when staying at this hotel. The private bathtub was also a major treat after several weeks of coed, don’t touch the curtain, lukewarm-if-you’re-lucky hostel showers.

We already felt like lotto winners after checking into this hotel which would have, under normal circumstances, cost three-times a backpacker’s budget. But then we decided to walk further along the main street, and the end was the most pleasant beach upon which I have ever graced my curves. The beach at Lido doesn’t look overly special in my photographic evidence as shown in the top photo of this post. My memories, however, are of a zillion colorful, smooth seashells; sand so fine it brushes off your body with a breeze; and much more temperate Adriatic Sea water than the Mediterranean Sea of Positano I’d experienced a week prior even though I was now farther north.

If you forgot your swimsuit, don’t worry! On both Italian coasts I visited, although most beachgoers were wearing real bathing suits, there were others in bras and undies. Apparently that is acceptable, and unless the skivvies are wet and pure white, coverage is about the same. And since everyone asks me this, neither of these beaches were nude or topless.

Murano glass also comes from the island here which, like Lido, is considered a part of the city but is a separate place. Take a vaporetto (included with the pass) to marvel in the beauty of this art form, the technique of which is a secret once guarded by the threat of death. But leave your backpack in the hostel if you visit Murano – you don’t want to risk walking among the shelves of vases, sculpture and beads with a bulging back. If you buy any of the glass as a souvenir, remember that authentic Murano works are stamped with a tiny heart. And that is my number three tip about Venice, to ensure that your souvenir is a quality one.

So you might leave with a champagne-like hangover or a bellyful of “real” coffee, a heart-stamped piece of craftsman glass or a thousand amazing photos, a longing for romance or a lovely new friend. Whatever you take with you, I can practically guarantee that you’ll leave Venice grateful for your visit if you follow these trip tips.