For me the difference between a traveller and a tourist is the way you move around. On arriving in Venice there are four choices, water taxi, water bus, gondola and by foot. I was quickly cured of the last method by two husbands who both insisted that you could navigate by the sun when scuttling through the dark alleyways. I’ve never used a gondola, nor do I intend to. Watching people grimly enjoying themselves is enough to put even the most stoic of us off. So we are left with water taxis or water buses: The taxi is the domain of the beautiful so the water bus has to be the choice. This is the way to experience real Venice. There are old women gossiping, tall men in impeccable suits clutching briefcases and families of tired parents and boisterous children. There are tourists but they are quickly absorbed in the colour and chaos. This picture is of the quay at St Marco. Shadows on chilly winter afternoons reach out into the chill air rising from the lagoon. This is Venice.