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.