Ponte della Costituzione

Put your hand on the rail as you climb. It is smooth and cool, and under your feet the steps change from pale stone to thick glass and back again. Below you, a vaporetto, one of Venice's water buses, churns the green water of the Grand Canal. Behind you, buses hiss and rumble at Piazzale Roma. Ahead, travellers drag suitcases toward the railway station. This is the Ponte della Costituzione, and it is the newest bridge across the Grand Canal.

For most of Venice's history, the Grand Canal was a barrier as much as a road. For centuries, the Rialto was the only fixed bridge across it. Later, the Accademia bridge and the Scalzi bridge joined it. Then, in 2008, this one opened. It became the fourth bridge to span the city's main waterway. That is a short list for a canal that winds almost four kilometres through the heart of the city.

The bridge was designed by Santiago Calatrava, a Spanish architect and engineer. He is known for white, skeletal structures that look almost like the bones of animals. Here, he chose a single shallow arch of steel, painted a deep red. The arch is very low and very long. It does not leap upward like a hill. Instead, it stretches flat across the water, like a drawn bow lying on its side.

Now think about where you are standing. This is the first view of Venice for many arrivals. On one side is Piazzale Roma, the last point that cars and buses can reach. On the other side is Santa Lucia station, where the trains come in across the lagoon. Before this bridge, people moving between the two had to walk a longer way or take a boat. The new crossing was meant to stitch the city's two main gateways together.

The name has a meaning. Costituzione means Constitution. The bridge opened sixty years after the Italian Constitution came into force in 1948. So the name honours the founding law of the modern Italian Republic. But you will rarely hear Venetians use it. Most people simply call it the Calatrava bridge, after the man who designed it. Some locals have less polite nicknames.

And that brings us to the first surprise. This bridge was never loved by everyone. It opened in 2008 with almost no ceremony. Officials kept the opening low-key because the project had become so controversial. Costs had risen well above the first estimates. Construction had taken years longer than planned. In a city that guards its old stone so closely, a bold modern bridge was always going to start an argument.

Look down at your feet again. Those glass steps are lovely in sunlight, and at night they glow. But glass and polished stone can be slippery, especially in rain or under morning dew. Over the years, many visitors have slipped here. Some glass panels have cracked and been replaced. Watch how locals move. They walk steadily and keep a hand near the rail. Then watch the tourists, who look up at the view and forget the steps.

The second surprise is about access. The bridge is made almost entirely of steps. That makes it very hard for wheelchair users, parents with strollers, and anyone with heavy luggage. After the opening, the city added a small enclosed cabin that ran along the side of the bridge. People called it the ovovia, the egg, because of its shape. It was slow and often out of service. In the end, it was removed. If you need step-free access, a vaporetto is the practical way across.

There is also a quieter engineering story. A long, low arch pushes outward strongly at both ends. That push has to go somewhere, and here it presses into the soft, waterlogged ground of the canal banks. Engineers have monitored the bridge closely over the years. The design still looks light. But this lightness asks a lot of the old city soil beneath it.

Now turn and look across the water toward the station side. Opposite the station, you will see a church with a large green dome. That is San Simeone Piccolo. Its copper dome turned green with age, and its classical columns face the canal. It is one of the first sights people notice when they leave the station. From the top of this bridge, the dome and the canal fit together into a single frame.

Look along the canal in the other direction too. The water bends away between old palaces with faded plaster walls in pink, ochre and cream. Wooden poles stand in the water, some painted in stripes, where boats tie up. Delivery barges, water taxis and vaporetti all share the same busy lane. From here, you can watch how Venice actually works. Everything arrives by water, and almost everything leaves by water too.

So is the bridge beautiful, or is it a mistake? Venice has argued about that for years, and the argument is part of the place. Remember that the Rialto bridge was also debated fiercely before it was built in stone. Every new crossing in this city has had to earn its place. Perhaps in a century, this red arch will feel as natural as the old ones do now.

Before you go on, stay a moment at the top of the arch. Feel the slight bounce of the glass as people pass. Listen to the engines below, the rolling suitcase wheels, the station announcements drifting over the water. Then walk down carefully, one step at a time. Behind you is the modern world of buses and trains. Ahead of you, the old city begins.