Nearly 100 films will be premiered at this year's festival. Illustration / Rod Emmerson
Venice's water cabbies steer Kevin Pilley to some of their favourite watering holes.
The gondoliers were talking about Everest. And Fellini. Although I may have overheard incorrectly. It may have been linguine.
But, at one stage as they refreshed themselves mid-shift, they definitely were talking about films.
The 72nd International Venice Film Festival - which starts this week and runs until September 12 - is a good time of year. September is the best tipping month.
Movies are profitable. The gondoliers gross well when the red carpets are rolled out. Nearly 100 films will be premiered at this year's festival.
"'Tis a long, covered boat, that's common here/ Carved at the prow/ It glides along the water looking blackly/ Just like a coffin clapt in a canoe".
Marco knew his Byron and his Beppo. His local, like that of many gondoliers, is one of Venice's oldest, Antico Cancile (or Old Goblet) which goes back to 1537. And probably earlier. It is in the Calle degli Stagneri between St Mark's Square and the Rialto.
It's a pleasant spot to stop perspiring and stop being lost and to get away from the hustle and bustle and selfie-stick salesmen of "La Serenissima".
Marco and his mates were on a break and having an ombra (one for the shade). They tucked into their crostini nibbles and enjoyed one of the oldest bacari in town. There are four very old bars in Venice.
In the Rialto zone is the Sturion, which was the site of a bar in the 18th century. The Aquila Nera goes back to 1505, the Osteria Do Spade has been in business since 1488, while the Cantina Do Mori started out in 1462.
Marco's local is The Cup. He speared an artichoke heart. His colleagues decapitated grissini (breadsticks).
Finishing his black cuttlefish, Andrea patted his stomach. "Il mio piu bel ricordo."
"His paunch is his most beautiful souvenir," translated Adriano, who was drinking prosecco. He likes his wine frizzante, rather than tranquillo. Sparkling, rather than still.
Venice has 1100 islands and 400 gondoliers. They all like to enjoy what some bloggers may call "food-focused experiences". Lunch is long.
Giuseppe and Luigi shared a carafe of valpolicella. They didn't seem to be worried about being pulled over by the carabinieri, busted for drinking and rowing. There is no official "limit" for a gondolier. They can't be done for a faulty tail light.
"This is my fuel," said Marco who has been working the Gran Canal for four years. "These are my work colleagues," he said, flexing his biceps. "These are my work buddies," he said patting his hamstrings.
The whole table had done the "The Knowledge", Venetian-style. Just as London cabbies must learn how to navigate their city (known as "Doing the Knowledge") so Venice's gondoliers must learn how to paddle around their own city. Marco graduated from the Gondoliers' School.
Ninety aspiring punters study every year. They must sit a rowing test and know the Canalway Code. Knowing the shortcuts is as important as knowing the most scenic routes. And how to punt. A gondolier also needs to learn some tourist spiel. He needs to know a bit of history. And all about the local landmarks. Like the Ponte dei Sospiri. Or as the Americans call it, the Bridge of Sighs.
"You must stop for the traditional kissing of your passengers."
Emilio threw his straw hat into the ring: "A gondolier needs strong arms and strong lungs!" To row the gondola and keep up the running commentary.
Gondoliers are ambassadors for the city. They are the human face of a very human city. Wearing the hooped jersey, the marinera or white jacket, the straw hat and the colours of your district is a great honour. It is a privilege to handle the beechwood oar.
A gondolier must also know all about his gondola. He must know about its symbolic features - the ferro da prora (prow-head), the rebbi (six teeth of oar after the six districts or siesteri).
And they must know that all gondolas share the same destination. They are cremated in the glass furnaces of Murano.