Three Perfect Days: Venice - United Hub
Hemispheres

Three Perfect Days: Venice

By The Hub team , May 04, 2016

Story by Chris Wright | Photography by River Thompson | Hemispheres, May 2016

“Venice," said Truman Capote, “is like eating an entire box of chocolate liqueurs in one go." The first time you set eyes on the city, you get what he meant. Everywhere you look there's a sublimely distressed architectural relic crawling with Gothic, Byzantine, Rococo, and Neo-Classical flourishes. It's almost too much, and that's before you get to the canals.

Nestled in a crook in northern Italy, on the edge of the Adriatic Sea, Venice is laced with 170-odd waterways, which are spanned by 400-odd bridges. While the Grand Canal boasts the city's big architectural pageant, there's a special joy in chancing across a quiet residential strip of water, the gondolas replaced by workaday motorboats. In the city's six sestieri (or neighborhoods), you will not see a single car, or even a bike.

Venice trades on its looks, of course, catering to 20 million annual visitors with swish hotels, shops, and restaurants. Stand on Ponte dell'Accademia at sunrise, however, and you'll also understand why poets and artists have been drawn here for a thousand years—the very same thing that will make you mourn the moment you have to leave.

Day 1 Graphic

In which Chris gets lost, gets lost again, eats the head mush of a baby octopus, visits a church, and gets lost one more time.

I'm eating a spicy Thai omelet, which is a slightly unusual thing to have for breakfast—more so when you consider that I'm having it in the glow of a gilded ballroom, mobbed by marble cherubs, sitting before a window overlooking Venice's Grand Canal. This is actually not the most ornate dining room at the Aman Canal Grande. The one next door looks as if it was egged by the Fabergé kids.

The water outside is the minty blue of mouthwash, its surface mirroring the inflected arches and carved columns of the palazzi across the way, which are also visible from my room. Omelet dispatched, I head upstairs for a soak in a deep tub next to a window, then make my way outside, pausing to inspect the Old Master frescoes, the looming chandeliers.

I have prepared a detailed itinerary, which may be the most futile thing I've ever done. This is Venice, after all, a city whose topography seems to have been drawn by a myopic madman with a twitch. “Getting lost is the only place worth going to," Venetian novelist Tiziano Scarpa once said, as if we have any choice.

Taking the back route down a canal in VeniceTaking the back route

Having abandoned my map, which is clearly faulty, I pick up another and head for Caffè del Doge, a coffee snob's paradise near the Rialto Bridge. I've arranged to meet author, cooking-school doyenne, and Venetian Contessa Enrica Rocca. I was expecting a genteel, maybe slightly doddery person. What I get is closer to Joan Rivers. “I'll eat anything," she says at one point. “If you tell me a horse has been fed the finest herbs, and its [manure] tastes good deep fried, I'll give it a try." With this, she lights a cigarette and strides off in the direction of the Rialto fish market.

The medieval market is open-sided, propped up by ranks of columns. The stalls squirm with spider crab, skate, prawn, octopus, scallop, monkfish, and squid, and the air is misted with brine. Enrica fondles the bulging belly of a scorpion fish. “It must have eaten something. Buy one, get one free!" Nearby is a horse butcher, and she goes into cooking-school mode: “You have to think of the history. When horses fell on the battlefield, the soldiers didn't think, 'Poor horsey!' They chopped the animal up and put it in a stew."

Enrica wants to take me to lunch at nearby All'Arco, one of the bacari that serve wine and cicchetti finger food. We pass a thin alley, its sides spanned by what she calls “a game of arches"—high brick buttresses to stop the buildings bumping into each other. Next, we poke around a spice shop, Drogheria Mascari, then go through an unmarked door into a produce warehouse. “This onion is incredible!" she says, holding up an onion.

Enrica Rocca, founder, Enrica Rocca Cooking SchoolEnrica Rocca, founder, Enrica Rocca Cooking School

All'Arco is a closet-size, family-run eatery crammed with locals and lapdogs. I take a windowsill and a spritz (Aperol and prosecco), followed by a succession of open-face sandwiches: baby octopus (served with head mush), mantis shrimp, baccalà Veneziana (cod paste), lard-stuffed salami. Venetians are preoccupied with the idea that they will lose their city—to rising water, to a failing sense of collective identity—and Enrica is no exception. “This is the real Venice," she says. “It is not easy to find these days."

Speaking of which: I spend the rest of the day blundering into doglegs and watery dead ends, crisscrossing the same square 37 times without ever finding the 12th-century church that, according to my map, is right here. People call Venice a small city, and it is in terms of square mileage, but unravel its snarl of alleys and you'd have Tokyo.

“The thing about Venice is there are no flat surfaces. You have to think about where you put the bed, so you don't end up sleeping head down. It's not a place where you can go out and pick up a cabinet from Ikea." —Enrica Rocca

But Scarpa was right. My aimless hours in San Polo and San Marco reveal innumerable wonders: tilted bell towers, side canals strung with laundry, tumbledown palaces, crumbling courtyards, and quirky curio shops, often set to a soundtrack of bells and the flippant baritone of gondoliers. In Campo Santo Stefano, I wander into a wonderfully gloomy church, then cut across to a shop with a neon cross in the window and a sign on the door: “We open sometime."

This is Fiorella Gallery, an avant-garde clothing shop opened in the mid-1980s by a local character named Fiorella Mancini. As I browse among hand-printed coats and beaded G-strings bearing slogans like “Love My President," Mancini flings T-shirts around trying to find one that will suit me. “Here, this one is crazy," she says, holding up one with a big red skull on it. “Every expression is reality," she tells me as I make for the door, and then she gives me the T-shirt for free.

There are limits to the joy of getting lost, however. I'm only a few hundred feet from the Metropole Hotel—where I'll be dining at the Michelin-starred Met Restaurant—but it takes me an age to get there. This time, the jiggery-pokery doesn't seem so benign. After one particularly arduous loop, I throw my new map away and buy another. Also, possibly due to a combination of fatigue, hunger, and overstimulation, I've started to have unusual thoughts. Have you ever noticed that when lion heads get worn, they look like monkeys?

Fiorella GalleryFiorella Gallery

There is so much here that seems on the brink of falling apart or melting away. While many of the old palaces have been restored, many more are peeling and crumbling, bulging and lurching. But this too is part of the appeal. Certainly, you wouldn't want Venice to be subjected to municipal plastic surgery. The city dates back to the fifth century, and it emerged as a major world power in the 10th century. It looks its age.

I'm not feeling too sprightly myself when I arrive at the Met, but I perk up when presented with the menu, overseen by rising star Luca Veritti. “Enjoy this beautiful tree!" says the waiter, referring to a wooden block studded with wires, each pronging an amuse-bouche. For a starter, I get pan-fried scallops coated with black bread crumbs—crunchy and succulent, they may be the best I've ever had. Another highlight is the roe deer, which is liver-rich and tender, served with bacon popcorn and grapes. Dessert is a ricotta, chocolate, and pear tart, which is lovely but not entirely necessary.

I end the night at the 1930s-era Harry's Bar, fabled home of the Bellini, which tonight is crammed with Bellini-drinking out-of-towners. I order one and sit next to a young man drinking a beer. “Why not a Bellini?" I ask over the din. “Sorry," he replies, “I do not speak Italian." We're near the stop for the San Marco vaporetto, one of the water buses that ordinary people use to get around. I head out and climb aboard, then glide past the huddled palazzi and the bristling bell towers, the gondolas bobbing in our wake. There are worse commutes.

Day 2 Graphic

In which Chris falls in love with a view, plays Cary Grant in a water taxi, whimpers his way through a rowing lesson, and loses his ruffled shirt at the casino.

I wake up at the Gritti Palace, and I do not say this lightly.

The Gritti is one of Venice's star attractions, and has been for 120-plus years. I'm in a third-floor canal suite inspired by swinging American designer Angelo Donghia. The Venetian Gothic palazzo was once occupied by 15th-century aristocrats, and much of the decor reflects this. The Donghia, though, is pure mod. My bedroom is battleship gray, with a silvery chandelier and a curved plastic table. Beyond this is a huge lounge area dominated by two Pop paintings of the Chrysler Building (by Bobo Ivancich) and an L-shaped couch (seats 20).

Then there's the little balcony, where I stand for as long as I can afford to, gazing across at the dome of Santa Maria della Salute, built in the 1600s to celebrate the end of the city's last great plague (fingers crossed). The rising sun has tinged its Palladian facade and teeming angels a faint pink. The mouth of the canal widens here, opening out into the Lagoon and the Adriatic Sea. How do you walk away from that?

Palazzo Bovolo's external staircasePalazzo Bovolo's external staircase

I'm having breakfast at the Bauer Palazzo, a few hundred yards to the east. The rooftop deck here has a fair view of its own, taking in the spiked campanile of San Giorgio Maggiore, the endless muddle of red roofs. As I munch on crispy bacon and plump sausages, a seagull brazenly eyeballs the plate of an adjacent diner. “Is that Gina or Gloria?" one waitress asks another, going on to explain that the restaurant has two resident gulls.

I'm waiting for Alessandro Possati, scion of the family that owns this hotel (among others) and a rising patron of the arts. After a brief hello, he whisks me over the sunny bay in a water taxi, which makes me feel like Cary Grant. Our destination is the island of Giudecca, and the old convent housing his Zuecca Project Space, a gallery for emerging artists. He has a smaller space in San Marco, and he has plans to open more, which he sees as a civic responsibility.

“While many of the old palaces here have been restored, many more are peeling and crumbling, bulging and lurching. And this is part of the appeal."

“There has been a mass exodus from Venice," he says. “Often the houses don't find new life. So what we do has deeper implications than just the art itself. It's a way of bringing dignity back, breathing life into empty space." With this, he shows me around his cavernous gallery, pointing to a high window at the end. “That was to keep the girls from looking out at the local butcher and baker boys."

Giudecca used to be a run-down area, home to prisoners and exiles (Michelangelo spent a few years here in the 1520s), but it is becoming like Brooklyn or Shoreditch, a community of artists and musicians (Elton John has a place here). Still, there is a sense of melancholy about the place. “It's the island of the judged," says Alessandro. “You had to sit here and look across the water to Venice, without being there."

The inspired clutter at Libreria Acqua AltaThe inspired clutter at Libreria Acqua Alta

Next, Alessandro drops me off at the nearby San Giorgio island, which has a lovely Benedictine church and that campanile, said to offer the best views in Venice. It is indeed a fine view, giving me my first proper look at the sprawling splendor of Piazza San Marco, but I have a date with a gondolier, so I head down and catch a boat to Sacca Misericordia, in shabby-chic Cannaregio. I've decided it's not enough to ride these things; I want to learn how to operate one.

My tutor, Jane, is a no-nonsense Australian expat, part of the almost all-female outfit Row Venice. Upon her arrival at the dock, she shows me the shrimp-tail boat I'll be rowing and tells me not to fall in, and we're ready to go. As I wobble aboard, two nuns walk by wheeling shopping carts, and one of them gestures.

Waving? Warning? Maybe I should have gone with the romantic serenade for one.

Standing at the bow isn't that bad. My problems begin when I have to climb onto the slick arc at the back, which looks to me like the setting for a hilarious YouTube video. “Use your leg muscles!" Jane tells me. “Lunge back and forth!" I try to use my legs, I try to lunge, but the best I can muster is a bit of dithery splashing and a falsetto catalogue of concerns. Jane rolls her eyes, takes the oar and rows me safely back to shore.

Titian's radiant Frari altarpieceTitian's radiant Frari altarpiece

I'm in a hurry again, so from here it's into the 14th-century Madonna dell'Orto for a look at Tintoretto's massively murky Last Judgment (Jesus at the top, do-badders below), followed by a whirlwind tour of the nearby Jewish Ghetto, and a stride-by survey of the canalside shops and bars. I do make time to try a dark La Birra di Meni, one of the 300 beers on offer at Birre da Tutto il Mondo, and (thank goodness) to pop into Libreria Acqua Alta, located 15 minutes southeast, in Castello.

The sign outside says that this is “the most beautiful bookshop in the world," which it isn't. Inside is a musty muddle of books, maps, cards, and magazines, many of them heaped in a large gondola. Gianni, the guy behind the counter, adopts a tone of mock outrage when I suggest the arrangement is haphazard. “There is a lot of system," he says, cigarette in mouth. “In this room, it's 50 percent new and 50 percent used." In the yard out back, there's a staircase and platform, maybe six feet high, built out of rotting encyclopedias. Gianni calls the structure “a way to be elevated by culture."

Lunch is at the nearby Osteria di Santa Marina, a local eatery serving traditional cuisine with a creative twist. It's a low-key place, but I find it easily enough (ta-da!) and take a seat in a small back room. Oddly, the music is a classical rendition of a song from Toy Story 2, but the food is faultless: tuna tartare with shaved truffle; tagliatelle with cuttlefish and pistachio pesto; veal cheek topped with crispy leeks; plenty of wine.

Alessandro Possati, founder, Zuecca Project Space GalleryAlessandro Possati, founder, Zuecca Project Space Gallery

From here, I make my way to the Rialto Bridge, which was built in the 16th century and now stands amid the city's densest concentration of gift shops. I cross the bridge and find what I'm looking for: a tiny brick building with a dinky belfry and an oversize clock. This is San Giacomo di Rialto, which is said to date back to 421. That's a heck of a thing to think about, even with 150,000 novelty-mask retailers within earshot.

A stroll west takes me to Scuola Grande di San Rocco, one of the city's grandest confraternities. I enter an enormous and ferociously decorated room, then climb a broad stairway to the aptly named Great Hall, which is cluttered with dismal Biblical scenes by Tintoretto (Agony in the Garden, etc.). My attention turns to a row of grotesque allegorical figures carved into a wooden wall—contorted, grimacing men whose bodily parts end in stumps. Fun.

“Venice is beautiful, but it is also challenging. We live on an island, with all of the physical complications this implies. There are times when you can feel isolated, disconnected from the outside world." —Alessandro Possati

A survey of local churches ends at the 14th-century Gothic behemoth Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari, whose brick bell tower is one of the few here that hasn't, at some point, toppled over. The Frari is one of the dominant features of the Venetian skyline, and it contains some of the city's finest religious art, including Titian's gleaming altarpiece, Assumption of the Virgin. The artist was entombed here in the 1570s after succumbing to the plague.

Right, let's eat!

A vaporetto takes me to Ca' d'Oro, close to Trattoria da Bepi Già 54. This is not a flashy place, but the food is spectacular. I have a warm salad with scampi and artichoke, followed by sweet and tender grilled eel served with polenta. The charismatic owner, Loris, took over the restaurant from his father in 1978. “This was my first baby," he says. “Since then I've had five more."

I end the night nearby at the Casinò di Venezia, which has been inviting people to throw their money away in elegant surroundings since the 1600s (Richard Wagner had a fatal heart attack here in 1883). Today, there's an odd juxtaposition of slot machines and Renaissance art, but the basic idea is the same as at casinos everywhere: You walk in with some money, you walk out with less. Time for bed.

Day 3 Graphic

In which Chris gets personal with Picasso, endures sensory overload at Piazza San Marco, and survives an endless Venetian anecdote.

I start the day on a vaporetto to Dorsoduro. My first stop is the sweet Art Deco interior of the hotel Ca' Pisani for a delicious breakfast of eggs, two kinds of Italian sausage, and homemade orange tart. My big job today is to hit Piazza San Marco, but first I want to explore Dorsoduro, an increasingly fashionable area whose alleys aren't quite as touristy as those across the canal. The area is also home to the city's best art museum: the Peggy Guggenheim Collection.

A warren of sculpture gardens and small rooms, the museum amounts to a who's-who of modern art (Miró and Rothko, Picasso and Pollock), but the real joy is the presentation—this used to be a private home, and it still feels like one. There's an intimacy and informality that brings the work to life. It's wonderful, especially after a couple of days of supersize religious parables.

I leave the museum and head west, pausing for a spritz at the Ai Artisti trattoria. Now, at last, I'm ready to tackle the epicenter of Venetian history, majesty, and over-the-top design: Piazza San Marco. To help me ease into the experience, I've recruited Sabrina Scaglianti, the engaging and knowledgeable proprietor of A Guide in Venice.

A quiet backstreet in DorsoduroA quiet backstreet in Dorsoduro

Entering the square, which is flanked by grand municipal buildings, with the triumvirate of tower, church, and palace at the end, I'm reminded of the old gripes about Canaletto, whose doggedly faithful Venetian cityscapes are derided as a kind of visual accountancy. In fairness to him, it's hard to see how you could improve on this. If you were painting a van Gogh, would you stylize it, try to one-up him?

The Piazza, Sabrina tells me, was where Venice announced itself to the world. Ships would moor near the south side's looming twin columns, one of which bears a statue of St. Theodore, the city's dragon-slaying patron saint before St. Mark, and the other a winged lion, the symbol of the city and its thousand-year rebuttal of autocratic rule. Prisoners were executed between these columns, facing the 15th-century astronomical clock tower across the square so they could pinpoint the time and day of their demise.

St. Mark's Basilica is impossibly grand, a cluster of onion domes and Gothic spires, allegorical statues and solid gold mosaics. This was an expression of power rather than faith, possibly more so than the arched and crenellated Doge's Palace next door, or the skyscraping campanile. As I try to take it all in, Sabrina provides historical context, along with a little light relief. At one point, we come to a spot that used to be popular with assassins. “That's Venice," she says, lunging at me with an invisible knife. “People in masks stabbing each other and running away."

Patrizia Fiorenza (right) co-owner, Godi Fiorenza boutiquePatrizia Fiorenza (right) co-owner, Godi Fiorenza boutique

I say goodbye to Sabrina and set about exploring the palace, which was built in the ninth century and, over the years, has vanished beneath a series of mix-and-match updates—a bit of ancient Rome here, a dab of Islam there, a medieval cherry on top. The rooms in its befuddling interior range from dingy torture chambers to the Higher Council Hall, which is the size of Madison Square Garden and looks like Catherine the Great's jewelry box.

Next, I look around the glowing interior of the 11th-century basilica, which is such a dense concentration of architectural elaboration and historical consequence it makes my head hurt. For respite, I head into the nearby Caffè Florian for a cup of hot chocolate.

Good grief. Opened in 1720, this multi-chambered café is, if anything, even more ornate than the church and has hosted everyone from Lord Byron to Andy Warhol. I sit, surrounded by angels and voluptuous women, in the gilded Senate Room. David Bowie was in this very room not long ago, I am told. He had the blinds drawn and the doors closed and sat in here on his own for a few hours.

“Venice has a lot of history, but we don't want to be stuck in the past. There's a sense that artisans will take the city forward, making Venice a center of excellence again." —Patrizia Fiorenza

I'm having lunch in San Polo, home to Antiche Carampane, a no-fuss trattoria adored by locals and frequented by visiting celebrities. There's a sign on the door saying “No pizza, no lasagne, no menu turistico," which is fine with me. I get tender, tasty platters of mantis shrimp and cuttlefish, scampi with orange sauce, tagliolini with baby octopus, and tiny soft-shell crabs, deep-fried and served whole. Perfetto.

I have a date now with the fashion designer Patrizia Fiorenza, who owns the San Marco boutique Godi Fiorenza with her jeweler sister, Samanta. We meet at the shop, which is very chic and very small, with a 14th-century well in the back yard, and then head out to stroll among artisanal bootmakers and indie galleries. “Venice can't get any bigger or any taller," Patrizia says, ducking into a particularly narrow alley. “People just fit themselves into the available space."

A flooded Piazza San Marco at nightA flooded Piazza San Marco at night

As we take in the sights—including the arched external spiral staircase at Palazzo Contarini del Bovolo—I ask Patrizia to identify a local personality trait. “We have a strong sense of humor," she says. “The endless anecdote is classically Venetian. Walk along any street and there will be someone listening to a story saying, 'I have to go!'" Also, she adds, Venetians are not easily impressed by celebrity. “You can be as famous as you like here, and people will famously ignore you."

I leave Patrizia and head back to Piazza San Marco for dinner. Quadri, one of the city's most highly regarded restaurants, is strangely situated, nestled as it is among snow globes and selfie sticks. It has a relatively informal café downstairs, but the red damask walls and gilt cornices above tell a different story. The views alone are worth the price of admission—if, that is, you occupy a certain income bracket.

I have a seven-course meal that includes a rich, raw langoustine, seared sea scallops (“from our lagoon") with razor clams and black truffle, stewed cuttlefish and red shrimp with veggies and balsamic vinegar, and rib-eye steak with beet puree and smoked leek cream. It's not so much a meal as a fantastic journey, each course paired with an equally fantastic wine, and by the time the caramel millefeuille arrives I am begging for mercy.

My last stop is across the square and over the Bridge of Sighs, at the Hotel Danieli's Bar Dandolo. The bar, set beside a splendid Gothic atrium, is overseen by Roberto, who has worked here for 32 years. He makes me an Americano cocktail and I take a seat beside U.S. expat Marie Micheaux, who tells me she's the author of The Other Side of the Wall, a “paranormal memoir/psychological thriller" set in Venice. As Roberto reminisces about the celebrities who have drunk here, I'm reminded of Patrizia's earlier comment, about the Venetian propensity for yarn-spinning.

Morning at the Bridge of SighsMorning at the Bridge of Sighs

“Paul Newman came here and said, 'I need a table, please, and I don't want anyone to disturb me.' So I gave him a table in the back. He stayed there for an hour and nobody recognized him." He also has a story about Bruce Willis. “He used to drink cold latte in this glass." He holds up a cognac glass. “What, that very glass?" I ask, and Roberto gives me a pitying look. “No, this kind of glass." The famously prickly Sean Connery drank here too, during the filming of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. “What was he like?" I ask, and Roberto shrugs. “I don't remember."

It's getting late, so I take a vaporetto to Palazzina G, the last hotel of my stay. Unlike the majority of Venice hotels, this one has forsaken the doge-for-a-day look in favor of a boutiquey feel. It's located in another canalside palace, but the interior was designed by none other than Philippe Starck, whose efforts to meld tradition and modernity are visible in his stylized take on local conventions, typified by the serpentine glass light fixtures in the restaurant and the enormous decorative mirror in my very white room.

I wake early and begin the ritual of making sure I haven't left anything under the bed. I have a little while before the water taxi arrives, so I pop down to the dock for a last look. The canal is quiet, cobalt blue. As if on cue, a flock of slow-motion cormorants goes skimming by, heading out toward the lagoon. I watch the birds round the bend, and continue watching long after they've gone.

Ink Global U.S. editor Chris Wright is finding it very hard to eat breakfast these days without any classical statues looking over his shoulder.


This article was from Rhapsody Magazine and was legally licensed through the NewsCred publisher network.

An update from our CEO, Oscar Munoz

By Oscar Munoz, CEO, United Airlines , March 27, 2020

To our customers,

I hope this note finds you and your loved ones healthy and well.

It is safe to say these past weeks have been among some of the most tumultuous and emotional that any of us can remember in our lifetimes. The impact of the coronavirus outbreak has been felt by individuals and families, companies and communities, across the United States and around the world.

The response to this crisis has been extraordinary; as much for what it has required from our society as for what it has revealed of us as a people.

Far from causing division and discord, this crisis and the social distancing it has required, has allowed us to witness something profound and moving about ourselves: our fond and deeply felt wish to be connected with one another.

The role of connector is one we're privileged to play in the moments that matter most in your life – weddings and graduations, birthdays and business trips, events large and small – and it's that responsibility that motivates us most to get back to our regular service, as soon as possible.

That is why it is so important our government acted on a comprehensive relief act to ensure our airline – and our industry – are ready and able to serve you again when this crisis abates.

I want to relay to you, in as deeply personal a way I can, the heartfelt appreciation of my 100,000 United team members and their families for this vital public assistance to keep America and United flying for you.

This support will save jobs in our business and many others. And it allows us time to make decisions about the future of our airline to ensure that we can offer you the service you deserve and have come to expect as our customers.

While consumer demand has fallen, we have seen the need for our service and capabilities shifted. And, we've adapted to help meet those needs.

Right now, aircraft flying the United livery and insignia, flown by our aviation professionals, have been repurposed to deliver vital medical supplies and goods to some of the places that need it most. We're also using several of our idle widebody aircraft to use as dedicated charter cargo flights, at least 40 times per week, to transfer freight to and from U.S. locations as well as to key international business locations. At the same time, we are working in concert with the U.S. State Department to bring stranded Americans who are trying to return home back to their loved ones.

While much remains uncertain right now, one thing is for sure: this crisis will pass. Our nation and communities will recover and United will return to service you, our customers. When that happens, we want you to fly United with even greater pride because of the actions we took on behalf of our customers, our employees and everyone we serve.

Stay safe and be well,

Oscar Munoz
CEO

Working to bring people home – repatriation flights underway

By The Hub team , March 26, 2020

When and where possible, we are working to repatriate travelers who are stranded abroad in the wake of the COVID-19 crisis. Our teams are working closely with government officials here in the U.S. as well as in other countries where flying has been restricted to gain the necessary approvals to operate service. In regions where government actions have barred international flying, we have coordinated with the the U.S. State Department and local government officials to re-instate some flights. Additionally, we have been operating several extra flights to countries in Central America and South America as we continue to play a role in connecting people and uniting the world.

This week, we are operating 21 flights from Panama City, Quito, Lima, San Pedro Sula, Tegucigalpa and Roatan, to bring nearly 2,500 Americans home. We will continue working with government officials to operate extra flights to Houston from Quito, San Pedro Sula, Tegucigalpa and from Lima to Washington Dulles. We continue to review more opportunities for flights between the United States and other countries to bring citizens home.

Video provided by the U.S. Embassy Ecuador of Americans returning home on United.

Additionally, our Customer Solutions and Recovery team is working with customers in the following markets to rebook them on flights back to the United States as capacity allows, either on our aircraft or on one of our airline partners' planes:

  • Quito, Ecuador
  • Managua, Nicaragua
  • Roatan, Honduras
  • San Pedro Sula, Honduras
  • Amsterdam
  • Brussels
  • Munich
  • Singapore
  • Tokyo-Haneda
  • Seoul, South Korea
  • Melbourne, Australia

Map showing reinstated international flights to help bring customers home during COVID-19 crisis.

We also recently reinstated several international flights back into our schedule to support customers and essential businesses which depend on these routes. As a result, we will be the only airline to offer service between Newark/New York and London, San Francisco and Sydney, as well as Houston and São Paulo, Brazil.

Domestic and international schedule reductions

By The Hub team , March 25, 2020

While travel demand and government restrictions continue to impact our schedule, we know some people around the globe are displaced and still need to get home. While our international schedule will be reduced by about 90% in April, we will continue flying six daily operations to and from the following destinations — covering Asia, Australia, Latin America, the Middle East and Europe — in an effort to get customers where they need to be. This remains a fluid situation, but United continues to play a role in connecting people and uniting the world, especially in these challenging times. Learn more about what we're doing to keep customers and employees safe.

Flights continuing from now through May schedule:

  • New York/Newark – Frankfurt (Flights 960/961)
  • New York/Newark – London (Flights 16/17)
  • New York/Newark – Tel Aviv (Flights 90/91)
  • Houston – Sao Paulo (Flights 62/63)
  • San Francisco – Tokyo-Narita (Flights 837/838)
  • San Francisco – Sydney (Flights 863/870)

In addition to the above, we will continue to operate the following flights to help displaced customers who still need to get home. In destinations where government actions have barred us from flying, we are actively looking for ways to bring customers who have been impacted by travel restrictions back to the United States. This includes working with the U.S. State Department and the local governments to gain permission to operate service.

Atlantic

The following flights will continue through March 28 westbound:

  • New York/Newark – Amsterdam (Flights 70/71)
  • New York/Newark – Munich (Flights 30/31)
  • New York/Newark – Brussels (Flights 999/998)
  • New York/Newark – Cape Town (Flights 1122/1123)
  • Washington-Dulles – London (Flights 918/919)
  • San Francisco – Frankfurt (Flights 58/59)

The final westbound departures on all other Atlantic routes will take place on March 25.

Pacific

  • We will continue to fly San Francisco-Seoul (Flights 893/892) through March 29 and San Francisco-Tahiti (Flights 115/114) through March 28.
  • Our final eastbound departures on all other Pacific routes will take place on March 25.
  • We will maintain some Guam flights as well as a portion of our Island Hopper service.
  • Hawaii's governor issued a mandatory 14-day self-quarantine order for all travelers arriving or returning to Hawaii. Travelers must complete a Hawaii Department of Agriculture form that will be distributed on board their flight which will also include the requirements for the 14-day quarantine, as well as the penalties. You must show a government issued ID upon arrival along with your form. You can find more information on the governor's website.

Latin America/South America

  • We will continue to fly Newark/New York – Sao Paulo (Flights 149/148) through March 27 outbound.
  • The last southbound departures on most other routes will take place March 24.

Mexico

  • We will reduce our Mexico operation over the next five days. After March 24, we will maintain a small number of daytime flights to certain destinations in Mexico — more to come in the next few days.

Canada

  • We will suspend all flying to Canada effective April 1.

In destinations where government actions have barred us from flying, we are actively looking for ways to bring customers who have been impacted by travel restrictions back to the United States. This includes working with the U.S. State Department and the local governments to gain permission to operate service.

The revised international schedule will be viewable on united.com on Sunday, March 22. We will continue to update our customers with information as it's available.

If you're scheduled to travel through May 31, 2020, and would like to change your plans, there is no fee to do so, regardless of when you purchased your ticket or where you're traveling. Please visit united.com for more information, or reference our step-by-step guide on how to change your flight, cancel and rebook later.

For any customer, including residents from other countries, whose international travel is disrupted by more than six hours because of schedule changes resulting from government restrictions, they will retain a travel credit equal to the value of their ticket. That credit can be used towards any flight, to any destination, for 12 months from the time of purchase. If the customer chooses not to use the credit, they will receive a cash refund at the end of that 12-month period.We continue to aggressively manage the impact of the coronavirus (COVID-19) outbreak on our employees, our customers and our business. Due to government mandates or restrictions in place prohibiting travel, we are reducing our international schedule by 95% for April. The revised international schedule will be viewable on united.com on Sunday, March 22.

Domestic schedule

We're also making changes to our domestic schedule. While we don't plan to suspend service to any single U.S. city now — with the exception of Mammoth Lakes and Stockton, CA — we are closely monitoring demand as well as changes in state and local curfews and government restrictions across the U.S. and will adjust our schedule accordingly throughout the month.

Additionally, today we announced a further reduction in our domestic schedule — the changes will result in a 52% overall domestic reduction from a previous 42%, and our overall capacity will now be down 68% overall.

Hub city Route suspensions Remaining service
Denver Arcata/Eureka
Amarillo
Kona
Kauai Island
SFO
IAH
SFO
SFO
New York/Newark Akron/Canton
Grand Rapids
Hilton Head
Honolulu
Milwaukee
Madison
Omaha
Portland, Oregon
Providence
Seattle
Salt Lake City
Sacramento
Knoxville
Fayetteville
ORD
ORD, DEN
IAD
ORD, IAH, DEN, SFO, LAX
ORD, IAH, DEN
ORD, DEN
ORD, IAH, DEN
ORD, IAH, DEN, SFO
IAD, ORD
IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN, SFO, LAX
ORD, IAH, DEN, SFO, LAX
ORD, IAH, DEN, SFO, LAX
IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN, SFO, LAX
ORD, IAH, DEN
Washington-Dulles Grand Rapids
Portland, Oregon
Sacramento
ORD, DEN
ORD, IAH, DEN, SFO, LAX
ORD, IAH, DEN, SFO, LAX
Houston Hartford
Boise
Grand Rapids
Lexington
Ontario, California
Palm Springs
San Jose, California
Akron/Canton
Reno
IAD, ORD, DEN
ORD, DEN, SFO, LAX
ORD
ORD, DEN
IAD, ORD
DEN, SFO
DEN, SFO, LAX
DEN, SFO
DEN
Los Angeles Arcata/Eureka
Austin
Boston
Baltimore
Bozeman
Cleveland
Kona
Kauai Island
Orlando
Madison
Kahului
Redding
Reno
San Antonio
St George
SFO
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN, SFO
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN, SFO
ORD, IAH, DEN
DEN
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN, SFO
SFO
SFO
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN, SFO
ORD, DEN
DEN, SFO
SFO
DEN, SFO
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN
DEN
Chicago Asheville
Bismarck/Mandan
Bozeman
Kearney
Panama City
Eugene
Fresno
Spokane
Hilton Head
Wilmington
Jackson
Kahului
Palm Springs
Reno
San Jose
Valparaiso
IAD
DEN
DEN
DEN
IAH
DEN, SFO, LAX
DEN, SFO, LAX
DEN, SFO
IAD
IAD
IAH
DEN, SFO
DEN, SFO, LAX
DEN, SFO
DEN
IAH
San Francisco Atlanta
Nashville
Baltimore
Bozeman
Columbus
Detroit
Fort Lauderdale
Indianapolis
Kansas City
Madison
New Orleans
Omaha
Philadelphia
Pittsburgh
Raleigh/Durham
San Antonio
St Louis
Tampa
Fayetteville
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN
ORD, IAH, DEN
DEN
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN
ORD, DEN
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN
ORD, IAH, DEN
ORD, IAH, DEN
ORD, IAH, DEN
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN
EWR, IAD, ORD, IAH, DEN
ORD, IAH, DEN
Scroll to top