A Venice Carnival Story: The Time of Casanova (and Two Kids)

If you’ve ever watched your smooth start to the day sail away, then you’ll know the feeling of seeing the hotel shuttle pull off as you watch through the window. I scrambled to draft a backup plan and led the kids toward Giudecca Palanca B — the ferry stop just down the block (which meant crossing two bridges, by the way).

I was second-guessing every step. Checking the map. Hoping I’d gotten the stop right. I still wonder if I ended up at the correct meeting point, but this is exactly why I book free tours in cities I don’t know: minimal risk, lots of upside.

Yesterday had been a full travel circus, from missed ferries to wrong stops. So I promised myself today would start better. At least breakfast exceeded expectations. The Hilton Molino Stucky buffet made up for everything: fresh pastries, fruit, espresso and, surprisingly, prosecco chilling beside the glasses like an invitation to be slightly fancy before 9 a.m. You could pour a mimosa or skip the juice and just call it self-care.

We boarded the ferry to San Marco, the lagoon’s cool breeze telling us to get ready. We arrived too late for the tour, so we pivoted and wandered instead, turning what felt like a setback into one of the best starts of the trip.

Crossing a small bridge, I caught a flash of pastel color: three people gliding toward us in full Venetian costume — ruffles, brocade, pistachio green and candy-pink swirls. The kids lit up. I fumbled for my phone as fast as I could manage, hoping not to miss the shot.

My son whispered, “Whoa. Is that what you meant?” Exactly.

We had been traveling for nearly two months. We’d watched the sun set behind Portugal’s sea cliffs, posed with Spider-Man at Disneyland Paris and taken the Agadir cable car to the Oufella. But this — one of our final stops before returning home — was what I had been looking forward to. My milestone 50th-birthday trip. The one I’d promised myself. In that moment, every missed shuttle, late ferry and improvised plan had led us right here.

Every turn revealed another surprise: bridges stacked over still water, alleys ending in café tables and mask vendors inviting you to choose one or maybe even two. Costumed strangers moved through it all like living art and reveled in the attention.

By the time we reached St. Mark’s Square, Carnival was in full spectacle, with costumes beyond expectation — even the dogs were in on it. Music lifted the air; cameras clicked; strangers paused, posed and vanished. My kids couldn’t stop pointing out favorites and debating which costume was best.

Inside Doge’s Palace, the world changed tempo. I lingered on the Golden Staircase, a gilded ascent that once marked the entrance for visiting nobility. It’s one of those places where everyone pauses, waiting their turn to take it in before they ascend to the third floor. The kids were looking forward to the armory. I lingered under the gold-ceilinged room, frozen for a moment, trying to take it all in.

When we crossed the Bridge of Sighs, I told them how prisoners once looked through those same stone windows for their last glimpse of freedom. The bridge, built in 1614, linked the palace to new prisons intended to be more humane — larger and brighter — though not every cell lived up to the promise.

We hurried to our next stop, La Bauta, one of Venice’s oldest mask shops. It was mask heaven, with walls and shelves completely covered. I don’t think there was a single square inch left open. In the workshop area, blank white models waited for color and imagination. My daughter chose pink and gold with feathers and glitter; my son went with long-nosed and mischievous. We painted, laughed and paused time in that little room. I realized it would’ve been the perfect place to rent a costume, too.

That afternoon, we took a Casanova walking tour. Our guide was animated, her stories part history, part neighborhood gossip. She told us about his escapes, his charm and the blurred line between myth and truth while pointing out significant stops in his life.

On her suggestion, we stopped for fritelle at Rosa Salva — warm, sugary and exactly the kind of indulgence a long day requires. The Venetian hot chocolate was so thick it bordered on dessert sauce and made the perfect pairing.

She explained how Carnival once allowed everyone to be equal for a few days, how the mask erased class. We loved that idea — that everyone gets to play the same game.

Venice has always known how to turn life into theater. That’s what makes Carnival so disarming; it’s not a show, it’s an event you take part in. You can paint masks, wander through alleys, or just watch strangers play royalty; you become part of this centuries-old habit of pretending until pretending feels real. For a few days, you are liberated from the responsibility of who you normally are.

Venice has always known how to turn life into theater. That’s what makes Carnival so disarming; it’s not a show, it’s an event you take part in. You can paint masks, wander alleys or simply watch strangers play royalty. You slip into a centuries-old habit of pretending until pretending feels real. For a few days, you’re liberated from the responsibility of who you normally are.

When the ceremony ended, the energy shifted. Music flooded the square. Smoke drifted through beams of red and gold light. People began to dance. It was just another night of Carnival, but it felt like the grand finale. You know that feeling when you don’t know if it’s the last time you’ll experience something? That’s what it felt like for me.

As I danced in my own little corner of the square, I caught the eye of a woman in costume across the crowd. We both laughed and connected in spirit, sharing a moment before my kids tugged on me, wiped out and ready to go. I couldn’t stop smiling. Maybe I looked ridiculous. I didn’t care. Venice stretches a moment until it fills your whole heart.

The walk back through the quiet alleys felt almost private — the kind of silence that belongs only to people who stayed out too late — though it was barely 9 p.m. In truth, we were searching for an open WC and failing miserably, laughing as we gave up. At the pier, the water slapped against the stone in a soft rhythm. The air smelled salty and sweet, like a surprise you couldn’t have imagined. Venice still glowed, but slower now, as if even the city was ready for sleep.

For those few days, I wasn’t the organized mom keeping everyone on schedule. I was just there — laughing, painting, dancing and taking it all in alongside my kids.

I thought about how Carnival began as an invitation to let go and step outside of yourself for a while. That’s why it worked so perfectly for us.

Next year, Venice will celebrate Olympus: The Origins of the Game, a Carnival honoring the spirit of the 2026 Milan-Cortina Olympics and the city’s ancient love of play. It’s the perfect evolution from Casanova’s year of imagination. From masks to regattas, from tightrope walkers to human pyramids, Venice has always blurred the line between art, sport and spectacle. It tested my balance between control and wonder, discipline and joy.

Next year, Venice will celebrate Olympus—The Origins of the Game, a Carnival that honors the spirit of the 2026 Milan–Cortina Olympics and the city’s ancient love of play. It is the perfect evolution from Casanova’s year of imagination. From masks to regattas, from tightrope walkers to human pyramids, Venice has always blurred the line between art, sport, and spectacle. It tested my balance between control and wonder, discipline, and joy.

We did not find Carnival. It found us as we slowed down to remember that life itself is the game. It is unpredictable, messy, and amazing. Venice just gives us permission to play again. That, I think, is the real trick to travel.

If You Go: Venice Carnival 2026 — “Olympus: The Origins of the Game”
Dates: Jan. 31–Feb. 17, 2026
Theme: A tribute to play, imagination and the Olympic spirit celebrating the connection between body, art and freedom.

Don’t miss:

• The Venice Carnival Street Show, with performances in Mestre, Burano and beyond.
• The water spectacle at the Arsenale, a fusion of dance, light and music.
• La Bauta mask workshops — still one of the best hands-on family experiences in the city.
• Fritelle at Rosa Salva, Venice’s sweetest victory lap.

Family tip: Stay on Giudecca or the Lido for quieter nights and easy ferry rides into the main festivities.
More info: carnevale.venezia.it