The jet-set experience on a yacht in Venice

Step in to the wood-panelled embrace of Harry's bar on St Mark's waterfront and you can imagine Ernest Hemingway holding out his hand to greet you. At the next table Orson Welles would be knocking back a Bellini -- the cocktail invented in this very bar.

Nothing has changed since they were both regulars.

Outside too, Venice still feels like a playground for the 1950s jet set, from the Brylcreemed waiters in St Mark's square, to the sleek lines of the water taxis and the suave blazers worn by their drivers. It's a city fit for film stars. Just not tourists.

"Scusi sir," came the tap on the shoulder as I stood gawping in Harry's doorway. "You must have full length trousers to enter." The white-jacketed waiter showed me the door.

For the record, they were immaculate three-quarter lengths, with creases. And actually I was glad -- today a Bellini costs NT$439. But Venice is like that: Everything around is so perfect that you can't help feeling you are the only blot on the landscape. The culturally rich backdrop only serves to show up your worst side.

And Venice does nothing to put you at ease. It is the world's most beautiful city, and knows it only too well. Centuries of compliments and fawning visitors have made it spoilt and rude. We were turned away from restaurants, ignored in cafes and ripped off in shops. You end up apologetically joining the procession of tourists, making sure you keep moving to avoid causing a blockage.

But there is another way. Arrive in town on your own yacht and no matter what the city throws at you, you can't help but feel like a fully paid up member of the jet set. When you disembark, you carry with you a sense of smugness and superiority. You are, one might say, seeing Venice through the eyes of a local.

Doing so has never been easier, even if you've never sailed before and don't have anything near a celebrity bank balance.

Connoisseur, a British boating company, has just opened a new base that puts Venice and the islands surrounding it within easy striking distance, even for a long weekend. From Treviso, Venice's cheapo second airport, it's a 10-minute taxi ride to the boat yard in Casier. Here you're thrown the keys to your gin palace and set sail for the four-hour trip down the beautiful River Sile to Venice lagoon.

"So, who is il capitano?" asked the Italian boatyard boss, looking at each of us in turn. We stared blankly at each other, before I eventually raised my hand. The boss, named Douglas (rather disappointingly for an Italian sailor), sprang into a 15 minute Anglo-Italian sailing course -- "Always piano (softly), piano, ok?"

By 10:30 Saturday morning, when I'd normally just be surfacing, I was having a waterborne driving test on an Italian river.

The controls on our 14m, three-bedroom cruiser, were simple: just a steering wheel and a single lever for speed. Going in a straight line was anything but. Try to turn left and you ended up oversteering, heading straight towards the left bank. Correct yourself and you veer too far the other way, immediately on a collision course with the right. Douglas seemed far more concerned about the toilets. There are three on board and they are very easy to block, he stressed, with the solemnity of a man who'd had to do plenty of unblocking.

But soon we were away, in charge of our own vessel, gliding through the gorgeous countryside, looking across the back lawns of breathtaking Renaissance villas, and desperately trying to stop zig-zagging. We decided to stop for lunch at the first town, Casale, and suddenly here it was, approaching rather fast. All hands were on deck as we came into dock. I brought her in close, a touch of reverse thrust, then Crack! -- off we bounced, back out into the river. In his concern about the toilets, Douglas hadn't really made clear that mooring is by far the trickiest maneuver to master.