I knew that this Christmas Day would be etched in my memory as I sat down on stage at San Vidal, a former church turned concert hall in Venice’s San Marco district, not far from the Rialto Bridge.
During a classical performance of “The Four Seasons”, by Vivaldi, I’m among six members of the audience selected at random to watch the show from this coveted spot, inches from the musicians. Every brow furrow, head flick and string pluck is visible as the notes wash over the crowd below and bloom into the domed ceiling.
This is a surprise turn of events in my Christmas master plan. For me, being single and child-free, the festivities tend to rumble on with a low-level feeling of dread. My family is dotted across the UK – Somerset, Hertfordshire, Orkney – and invitations to join Christmas celebrations are wrapped in love, but with a well-meaning sprig of “We don’t want you to spend it alone”. So, last Christmas, I went rogue and chose to spend the day by myself, in Italy’s most magical city.
Solo travel is becoming ever more popular. Research from booking management software company Bokun suggests that the market will grow at an annual average rate of 9.1 per cent until at least 2030. Plus, data from Abta, the travel association, showed that 16 per cent of travellers went on holiday alone in the 12 months to August 2023, up from 11 per cent in the previous 12 months.
With its maze of canals and bridges, lavish palazzi and dark, narrow streets, Venice was my ideal city break. I had recalled an Italian friend’s tip to visit in winter, avoiding cruise-ship crowds and sticky heat.
Channeling Venice’s opulence, and as a gift to myself, I book myself into Il Palazzo Experimental. It’s a 16th-century building in a prime spot on the waterside walkway of Zattere, at the edge of the lively Dorsoduro district. It also has a cosy cocktail bar.
I’m travelling solo over Christmas, but any doubts I had about my plan – I was filled with nerves as I set off from home – are quashed with a surprise room upgrade. My plush accommodation features lofty ceilings, a deep-soak tub and views through gothic windows to the Giudecca Canal. The hotel is also within walking distance from the main sights.
My pre-trip research includes watching the Venice episode of Stanley Tucci: Searching for Italy. I take Tucci’s lead on Christmas Eve and head to All’ Arco, a family-run drinking hole specialising in cicchetti (small dishes), which he warns is difficult to find. That’s what you would expect in a city of more than 100 small islands, criss-crossed by canals and linked by 400-plus bridges.
It doesn’t take me long to get lost. I just go with it, stopping for coffee, browsing Venetian mask shops and dipping into a Leonardo da Vinci exhibition at Campo San Barnaba. Just as I feel a pinch of frustration, I walk around a corner and find myself at All’ Arco.
It’s full of chattering Italians. People are spilling onto the street. Once I’m in, I scoff sliced bread topped with inky squid, baccalà (salted codfish), moeche (crab), ham and cheese. There isn’t an inch of room to feel alone.
Next, I slope down to St Mark’s Square and indulge in a €17 hot chocolate in Caffè Florian, which was established in 1720. Charles Dickens, Elton John and Martin Scorsese (among others) once put the world to rights here.
Later, I join a food-themed walking tour from Rialto fish market. It takes in a string of delicious bites and spritzes. On the tour, I meet a couple from Arizona and a family from Beijing.
On Christmas Day, I head to breakfast, and I am given an on-the-house slice of sugar-dusted panettone to mark the occasion. I set off under blue skies to find streets buzzing with activity, including smartly dressed Italian families holding bags of presents and a couple casually loading skis into a gondola. I vow to spend the day walking and eating.
Lunch is a hearty bowl of Venetian duck ragu with pappardelle on a narrow stretch of canal near the Peggy Guggenheim Collection. While I eat, I read messages from home. I follow this with a slice of pizza and, later, more cicchetti.
When my family calls me, I’m inside an opulent, cavernous room at the Doge’s Palace, the city’s government seat from the 14th to 18th century.
My nieces are tickled pink by my glamorous setting and demand pictures. I ask a woman to take my photo. She lies on the floor from where she can get the ceiling in shot. Mission accomplished, I head to the Bridge of Sighs.
Later I dip into Harry’s bar, and enjoy a bellini cocktail. As dusk creeps in, I think about everything I could try in Venice. I wrap up and head to the Vivaldi concerto, before closing the day with tiramisu at my hotel.
I finish my trip enjoying whatever I fancy. I spend an hour browsing in a Venetian antique lace shop. I buy handmade soaps, velvet slippers and gold-rimmed glass tumblers. I eat more cicchetti (my favourite place to snack is Vino Vero, in Cannaregio).
The days are crisp but flooded with sunshine. At night, a thick fog rolls in clinging to the old-fashioned street lamps and baroque buildings. It feels haunting, and Christmassy. Making Venice an annual tradition is too extravagant, but I’m glad I bucked the usual festivities and have taken centre stage in my own Christmas story.
Getting there
Several airlines offer direct flights from the UK to Venice.Staying there
Il Palazzo Experimental has doubles from €207 (£170) in December, palazzoexperimental.com.More information
visitvenezia.eu/en
'President Musk' is flexing his muscles and revealing how weak Trump is