DRINKING
Alright, let’s be honest:
Venice is a drinking city.
It’s not just something people do; it’s a ritual, a language, a way of being together.
Is it because I’m an alcoholic?
Well, I might have been, but I’m not anymore.
At least not in the way most people mean.
What I am, though, is someone who understands that alcohol and culture are tangled up here — in a way that’s not always pretty, but it’s real.
You need to understand one thing:
Alcohol here has its own rhythm.
It’s not weird to see an old guy sipping his second glass of wine by 8 a.m., standing at a bar counter, talking about the weather, the football, the price of fish, the price of rent.
It’s not weird to have a spritz by 10 a.m.,
The idea of “aperitivo” here is not about “drinking to get drunk.”
It’s about being with people, talking, catching up, celebrating, complaining, laughing.
You go out to drink a little, not to drink a lot, but sometimes the “a little” turns into a lot.
In Venice, “let’s go drink” is the default plan.
You meet up with friends, you say, “Let’s go drink,” and you bounce from bar to bar, from bacaro to bacaro, from campo to campo.
You don’t usually have a fixed destination; you just follow the flow.
DRINKING TOURISM
What most cities call a pub crawl, Venice has turned into something else entirely.
It’s called the Bacaro Tour.
Basically, it’s a drinking tour where people go from one bacaro to another, order a spritz and a small plate of cicchetti, and repeat.
On paper, it sounds like a cultural food tour — a chance to taste different local snacks, meet locals, experience the real Venice.
In reality, half these people are there to get drunk.
They’re there to drink themselves silly, to get loud, to laugh too much, to drown out the day, to feel like they’re part of something real.
The fun part is that you’re walking through the city, not driving.
You don’t have to worry about the police or the car — you just keep going from bar to bar, from campo to campo, from ponte to ponte.
A few rules
In this very rooted Venetian drinking culture, there are a few unwritten rules and a few suggestions:
- Look around.
Where are you?
Is there more tourism or more locals?
That’s already a good indicator of whether the vibe is right or not.
If you’re in a place where the crowd is local, the bar is probably worth staying at.
If it’s all tourists, it’s probably just a show. - Don’t go to a wine shop and ask for a spritz or a beer.
Some places are wine shops, not bars.
They sell bottles, not drinks.
They might not be offended, but they’ll look at you like you’re an alien.
Respect their role. - Don’t ask for a Cosmopolitan, a Cardinal, or an Espresso Martini in a bar where people are drinking pints of beer.
That’s not a place for cocktails.
It’s a place for beer, wine, spritz, and conversation.
If you want something fancy, go to a cocktail bar.
But don’t expect to see one everywhere. - There’s a kind of hierarchy in drinking.
Beer is like Gatorade here — it’s more about drinking and feeling good, not about “savoring the craft.”
Wine is a good companion, but it’s usually not the standard drink in a bar unless you specifically ask for a bottle or a certain type.
Spritz, though, that’s a whole different thing. - Spritz is not just Aperol.
Here, Aperol is the entry‑level spritz.
It’s the light, sweet, easy one.
Then there’s the white spritz — basically prosecco with sparkling water.
Then you get to Campari or Select, which are much more bitter.
And then the mix, which can be Campari‑Aperol, but especially my favorite: Campari‑Cynar — a spritz with a carciofo (artichoke) liqueur.
It’s a very specific, bitter, intense drink, and if you’re brave enough, you should try it. - Feel free to try whatever you want.
But don’t feel obliged to drink Aperol spritz.
It’s a tourist favorite, and it’s fine, but it’s not the only spritz in Venice.
If you want to be a bit more adventurous, go for Campari, Select, or Cynar‑Campari.
It’s a different experience, and it might actually change your opinion about spritz.
WHERE TO DRINK
Okay. Let's talk about drinking.
Here's the smartest thing you can do in Venice, and nobody will tell you this in a guidebook: Go to a supermarket. Buy a few beers or a bottle of wine. Find a quiet spot along the water. Sit down. Drink.
No waiter. No markup. No ambient music chosen by someone who's never been to Venice.
Just you, the canal, the light, and whatever you grabbed at the checkout.
I've put together a personal selection of the best spots to do exactly this in the map — quiet, panoramic, and blessedly free of anyone trying to sell you something.
But if you want to actually go somewhere, here's my list.
No rankings. Just the truth.
If you want to drink like a Venetian student — and I mean actually like one, not the Instagram version — start at Osteria Da Filo, near Campo San Giacomo.
It's the kind of bar where nobody cares what you're wearing, the wine is cheap, and the conversation is loud.
Then there's Caco Nero, right near the IUAV University of Architecture and Design.
This place was basically my second home during university.
The counter, the people, the noise — it all feels like the real Venice, the one that still has people living in it.
Now, the outdoor space at Caco Nero is — and I say this with affection — roughly a meter and a half wide.
That's it. That's the spot.
And yet, somehow, it's always packed.
People spilling out onto the street, glasses in hand, cigarettes going, conversations overlapping.
It gets so crowded that it's not unusual to see a local resident literally push through the crowd to get to their front door, knock over a glass in the process, step on someone's foot without stopping, and disappear like nothing happened.
As I said earlier in this guide: don't take it personally. You're in their street, outside their home, blocking their path.
Anticipate it. Move when you need to. Hold your glass tight.
And enjoy every second of it, because this is exactly what Venice feels like when it's still alive.
If you want a drink with a bit of poetry to it, go to Osteria Al Squero — it sits directly across from one of the last active gondola shipyards in the city.
You drink your wine, you watch a guy sand down a gondola hull, ) and for a moment it actually feels like the past and the present are the same thing.
And if you want honest cicchetti and snacks, go to Corner Pub.
Nothing fancy. Nothing designed. Just good stuff at the counter.
Oh, and one more thing —
always keep an eye on your food and drink when you're outside.
The seagulls here are the boldest, most shameless pickpockets in the city.
They will look you dead in the eye, calculate the exact moment you look away, and take whatever you've got in your hand.
No guilt. No hesitation. No apology.
Honestly, respect.
Just want a cold beer?
Al Santo Bevitore and Al Marciano Pub.Both are the kind of places where nobody's trying too hard, the beer is cold, and you can stay for three rounds without anyone giving you the look.
Want something more refined?
Go to The Venice Venice Hotel and order their Americano.
It's a classic drink, made the way a classic drink deserves to be made — with care, precision, a personal twist and zero pretension.
Sometimes that's all you need.
If you want cocktails made with the same obsessive attention that goes into a Michelin‑starred plate, go to Il Mercante.
It's a serious bar, in a beautiful space, with people behind the counter who actually give a damn about what they're putting in your glass.
It shows. 10 out of 10.
If you want exceptional natural wine with a canal‑side view that does half the work for you, go to Vino Vero.
Honest, unpretentious, and usually full of the kind of people who know what they're drinking and why. Fancy but more in a casual way.
And if you want the kind of experience you'll still be talking about on the flight home, go to the bar at Aman Venice.
I'll be honest: it's expensive, it’s Aman.
It's the kind of place where the chandelier probably costs more than your rent.
But the bartenders — and I say this without irony — are genuinely great.
Funny, warm, precise, and the kind of people who will listen to what you want, ask two or three questions, and then put something in front of you that feels like it was made specifically for you, in that moment, in that city.
That's rare.
In Venice or anywhere else.