Euro Book Trek – Leg 6: Venice

Books, Dogs and High Water

Venice has always been a place that seems both real and dreamt, an ancient city of salt-stained stone, stillness, and slow unravellings. After days of travelling through Europe, we arrived and checked into Hotel Have Venice, tucked away in Mestre. It’s cheap, a little rough on the outside, but fine inside, a base with secure parking, walking distance to the station, and one short train ride from the historic centre of Venice.

We arrived under an overcast sky, but it was still hot. Our two days were spent mostly wandering, not chasing sights but letting them happen. Venice rewards you for doing nothing in particular. Blink and you’ve entered a passageway like a dream sequence. One wrong turn and suddenly there’s a man in a stripy shirt smiling beside a gondola, or cross a little bridge to find a square filled with tanned thirty-somethings in designer linens, nursing Aperol spritzes, or someone hanging their pants out on a washing line.

The Book-Swapping Alley
One alley led us to a little wall-mounted house-shaped box that read: La Casa Del Libro – Prendi o Lascia un Libro (The Book House – Take or Leave a Book).

I left a signed copy of Salt & Seeds tucked inside, as another donation on this long Book Trek around Europe. These moments felt like offerings more than drops; little ways of saying: I was here, and had something to give, so come and find it.

The Bookshop That Floats (and Floods)
Our literary pilgrimage took us next to the Libreria Acqua Alta, a name that translates to "High Water Bookshop." It’s famous for good reason, inside are teetering stacks of books stored in bathtubs, gondolas, and rowing boats to protect them from Venice’s seasonal floods. They even have another gondola outside the back door that opens onto a canal, it’s the official fire escape, they say, with a sign to prove it.

Founded by Luigi Frizzo in the early 2000s, Acqua Alta has become one of the most photographed and beloved bookstores in the world. What began as a quirky idea to safeguard books from the acqua alta — Venice’s increasingly frequent flooding — has grown into a symbol of creative resistance. The shop doesn’t just store books; it absorbs the water, the tourists, the cats, and the slow crumble of the city, with humour and defiance.

Every part of Acqua Alta tells a story of resilience. The stairway made of water-damaged encyclopaedias in the courtyard; the books climbing walls on shelves made from old kayaks; the gondola at the centre filled with books instead of passengers — all are visual poems about adapting rather than retreating. It’s no museum. It’s lived-in, chaotic, and stubborn in the best of ways.

The cat with the watchful eyes kept the till area warm. I left a signed, waterproofed copy of Salt & Seeds with the staff. They seemed pleased to meet me, and we chatted briefly before the many customers demanded their attention. They’ve seen many books come and go, but the subject matter of Salt & Seeds earned my book the extra attention. Maybe it’ll float for a while and find a reader who understands what it’s like to cling to something hopeful in rising tides.

I must admit that having a book in Acqua Alta has been a dream since I wrote Salt & Seeds, and one of the main destinations for this book trek.

Spritz, Gelato, and Masks
I tasted the vegan gelato; it was cool, smooth, and very welcome in the heat, but lacked the sweetness of traditional gelato. The seller must think that if you don’t want cream, you won’t like sugar either. I hope they continue to expand the vegan options beyond one flavour and find a demand for it among tourists.

I took a few shots of whatever caught my eye: a discarded Aperol Spritz cap on the edge of a canal, like a still life in orange and stone. Souvenir shops displayed a carnival of grotesque and beautiful masks, some theatrical, some mechanical. There were bobbleheads of Rocky, The Rock, and Ronaldo. All of it surreal and silly and exactly what it should be.

Dogs of Venice
Perhaps my favourite images, though, were of the dogs. Patient, proud, unhurried. One peed up a shopfront without apology, just as I went to photograph it. Another stood in the middle of a busy square, more composed than any of the tourists, and didn’t appear to have anyone to hold the lead. Boys kicked balls around, but this fluffy local just locked eyes with me across the square and stayed very still for a portrait.

Echoes of the Story
In Salt & Seeds, I wrote about a world slowly learning to float rather than fight the rising sea. Venice felt like a real-world cousin to that imagined world, beautiful and cracked, resilient and ridiculous. It’s not pretending it won’t flood. It adapts. It weaves boats into its architecture. It stores words in watertight barrels. It survives with absurdity and grace. I didn’t visit Venice for the big icons.

I came to walk, notice, and leave books behind. Mission accomplished.

Next Stop: Over the Dolomites and into Austria, where alpine air gives way to thunder and sanctuary. Leg 7 is coming soon. In the meantime you could get a copy of Salt & Seeds for yourself here.