Casanova supposedly stopped at the Caffè Florian for a quick coffee after his miraculous escape from a stone cell in the prison of the Doge’s Palace (Palazzo Ducale). I peer through the steamed up windows of the famous Caffè in St Mark’s Square, and inside I see everyone dressed in full 18th century regalia. I could have slipped back in time to Casanova’s day if it weren't for one man with a video camera and another couple in matching Burberry.

Outside, cobwebs of lilac lace drape from the Campanile across St Mark’s Square in front of the Basilica as the masked and face-painted revellers party. Extravagant richly coloured costumes made of fine silks and satins and ornate heavy brocades parade in front of the Renaissance and Baroque facades. From the beautiful to the downright wacky--devils, angels, clowns, a pair of fire extinguishers and even a dog dressed in rich red velvet wander slowly around the streets.

This is the last day and night of the Carnevale, Venice’s famous carnival celebration. It once lasted six months and everyone wore masks so that all classes could be considered equal.

Having been revived in 1979, the revelry has now been cut down to the three weeks up until Shrove Tuesday. I watch costumed visitors pose for photos at the water’s edge next to the gondola station outside of the Doges’ Palace. Everyone joins in the fun--there are tricorn hats and fabulous masks for sale at every turn. In St Mark’s Square a retired Englishwoman named Mary is having her face painted in silvers, blues and glitter for a few euros by some of Venice’s outstanding art students.

"This is licensed insanity," says Mary. "To see people in full 18th-century gear on their mobile phone is jaw-dropping! I can’t stop taking pictures of all the different outfits."
I’m only in Venice for a short time and don’t have time to do much. With the reminders that Venice was once the home (and imprisoner) of Casanova, I enter the Doge’s Palace and take the behind-the-scenes Secret Trails Tour which includes stops in Casanova’s cells. Our guide has a special pass allowing us to go in and out of secret doorways and passageways as well as visit the hidden courtroom where Casanova was once tried. After our private visit, we join the throngs walking around the grandiose public rooms which are opulently decorated with paintings and ceiling frescoes by Titian, Veronese and Tintoretto. Our last stop involves crossing the covered Bridge of Sighs with its fleeting view of Venice to the cold gloom of the dark stone prison cells.

Back outside in St Mark’s Square, I decide to head back to the hotel for dinner. I’ve been advised not to go to any of the restaurants around the square because of the inflated prices for tourists. I catch the number one vaporetto (waterbus) which stops just outside the Doge’s Palace and travels the length of the Grand Canal.

I imagine that this is probably the Venetian commuter equivalent of standing on the tube when you can’t hold on to the rail.

At the back of the boat is an open deck, perfect for watching Venice pass by around me. I stand there taking photos, losing myself in the magic of Venice, and it's moments before I notice that I'm sharing the deck with modern-day Casanova and his friends. They are also snapping away, taking photos on a digital camera. After spending too much time gazing at my surroundings, I realise I’ve missed my stop.

I’m dropped off on the wrong side of the Grand Canal nowhere near a bridge, but apparently I can cross to the other side on a traghetto – a type of gondola ferry that goes back and forth across the canal, becoming a sort of make-shift bridge. For less than half a euro, I climb aboard the traghetto with about six Venetians. As I think about where to sit, the gondolier starts pushing off from the quay. Everyone else is still standing. I manage to keep upright by grabbing the nearest woman’s arm as we lurch across the wake of a recently departed waterbus. I imagine that this is probably the Venetian commuter equivalent of standing on the tube when you can’t hold on to the rail.

Wobbling off the traghetto and on to the other side, I’m a little disoriented. I have no choice but to move, though, as I find myself being pushed along with the flow of people through a narrow alleyway barely wide enough for one person to pass in each direction. Fortunately for a hardened shopper as myself, nearly every main route is lined with small giftshops or luxury boutiques. It’s still quite an effort to stop and window shop though, and wanting to look at the displays involves halting abruptly and being shoved in a shop's door by the passing pedestrian traffic. I end up with Pinocchio masks for my nieces, delicate hand-made Venetian glass earrings and gondola-shaped pasta.

On arrival at the Pensione Accademia on the junction of the Grand Canal and two smaller canals, and with more bags of gifts than I had intended, a blazing log fire greets me. I warm my hands near the flames and fuel my stomach with the free hot lemon tea and frittelle (doughnuts - a carnival speciality) before sitting down for dinner.

Some time later, once I'm suitably sated and warm, I return to St Mark’s Square which is slowly starting to fill up. The aroma of hot spicy mulled wine wafts through the air, and I follow the smell like a dazed cartoon character following the scent of hot dinner. Holding a plastic cup in my gloved hands, I breathe in. I’m feeling a little giddy as if I’m swaying and it’s not due to the mulled wine. Venice is made up of hundreds of little islands that seem to rock gently like boats moored up in a harbour. I’m just glad I didn’t have any alcohol before my precarious trip on the traghetto.

As the sun sets and darkness envelops the square, I expect Carnevale to end on a big bang with a spectacle of huge fireworks. Instead the night slips away quietly as people party with small groups of friends while lights flicker from the surrounding shops. In the distance I see Casanova and his pals heading towards one of the public masked balls. I’m happy where I am, though, soaking up the atmosphere of this fairytale city by spending a less expensive evening (tickets for balls cost around £300 per person) in one of the grandest squares in the world. I’ll leave all the high-jinx to Casanova.