My visit to Burano on a gloriously sunny first of May, was intensely overwhelming. And not all due to its abounding vibrance.
It was standing room only on the vaporetto ride to and fro, as well as in the restaurants around the piazza. I picked up a surprisingly well made crumbed chicken panini and escaped to a bench on the sea front at the back, after exploring some relatively quieter side streets. The holiday hordes contributed muchly to my appreciation of tranquil Torcello later that afternoon.
The island’s dazzling, almost obnoxiously bright building facades however, were well worth braving the crowds for. Although I couldn’t help thinking I would likely have painted* my house a boring white, if I were one of its two thousand odd hapless residents!
* Painting one’s house on Burano isn’t a matter of personal choice. It requires prior permission, and is restricted to a list of permissible colours.