Venice, Italy

Myths: Venice is stinky. Venice is sinking.  
Truths: Venice is a visual playground. Venice is different. Venice is amazing.  

Venice needs to stop putting large billboards on antique buildings.  Really. The Bridge of Sighs has been violated with the billboards that surround it. As if big blue canvas can compensate for a real sky.  And the large watches are not a sore vision on the eyes at all, not at all.  But then i am reminded that Venice needs love and maintenance. She is that Maserati you never want to have to buy parts for.  And so, we get the billboard engulfing the bridge. I chuckle quietly as I realize I now have sighed for the very bridge of the same name.  How appropriate.

Venice is crowded. 

Throughout this journey we are told  Europe is on holiday and we are  fortunate that no one is in around to impede us from seeing famous landmarks and stop our flow.  I think our luck ran out in Venice. 

As we step off our small chartered boat and meet the throngs of fellow tourists that crowd the square, I wonder how we will maneuver in the narrow street and walkways. It is very crowded. Standing in Piazza San Marco I find myself at a slight disadvantage with my height. Dive bombing pigeons fly haphazardly through the square darting with missile-like speed from one end to the other with, what appears to me, as no concern for what or whom may be in the way.  I find myself ducking at times fearing a collision. My travel mates worry about what the birds may drop on them and some scurry towards the cover of Palazzo Ducale.

Venice is simple.

Having escaped the crowded piazza both unharmed and unmarked, Mereille and I venture off towards a less crowded venue in search of lunch.  Winding streets that have little rhyme or reason take us deeper into the heart of Venice and allow us brief glimpses into the real life of the Venetians. Hmm, it's weird to think and type that about this place, "the real life of the Venetian". It feels too surreal still.  

As we sit at a tucked away trattoria and await our pizza diavola and ensalata caprese , we watch a man push a cart loaded with fruits and vegetables up to a small door of one of the homes. He begins to unload his cart and enters the building to deposit the colorful contents.   We sit in silence watching the process and admiring the humble delivery. I don't reach for my camera because, well, in my mind this would be invasive.  I don't know why i think this but i do.  We are not sitting on the main tourist drag frantically clicking at anything that moves, or doesn't move for that matter.    Our menu isn't decorated with pictures and translations of the food. It was with broken Italian that we secured a seat outside after first being told that a table was not available.  We are obvious guests in this man's neighborhood and if we wanted typical tourist subject matter, we knew where to go.   So instead, we watched Venice pass us by - fruit and veggie cart and all.

As we ate, a signore with an accordion joined the lively accommodations.  He played a  bit (perhaps in preparation to head out to the tourist lands) and as he started his next song I signaled if it was ok to take photo.  A nod of approval allowed me an opportunity to snap a shot complete with hanging laundry and a faint Italian flag waving in the background. Ahhhh, even laundry becomes romantic in Venice. 

It really is hard to fathom that Venice is a real city.  Perhaps because the mayhem of the crowds and the shops crammed full  of knick knacks and shoppers do not necessarily  allow you to.  But in the back recesses of the place, there is a real Venice.  

Venice is history.

Yes. The tourist side of me actually did sign up for a gondola ride.  How could I not?Our coordinator arranged for our interested gondola group to even have a serenade as we cruised under bridges, maneuvered around corners, and appreciated the gaudy decor that adorns the symbol of Venice.  I believe our three little boats now appear in at least 20 home videos.  It is not every gondola caravan that includes a singer and accordion player and so we were recorded as we passed. 

I find it funny how people consider the gondola ride to be a romantic experience when in its time, the once colorful boats, transported the bodies of those that passed due to the plague. Now there is a mood killer if you think about it.  Today, the romantic ride is interrupted not by death but by the cell phones of the gondoliers and their yelling to each other. But it is all in good fun and great fun it has been.

Upon finishing our ride I found time for my last treat in Italy....a Bellini at Harry's Bar.  I just couldn't leave Italy  without a Bellini and i was not about to leave Venice without visiting Harry's.  Ahhh, the history. Ahh, the blushing.    http://www.harrysbarvenezia.com

Speaking of leaving...

As we completed our morning rituals and prepared for  breakfast, two travel mates run up and exclaim the need to share their crazy morning story.  I remind them that it was only seven a.m. What could they possibly have to share? 

As it turns out, they had plenty.  They were dressed and about the room gathering their stuff when one of them noticed a red dot swirling about her chest.  She realized it was similar to the light of a laser pointer.  She followed the light to the window and there she sees a happy Italian, fully nude, letting her know he was the source of the light and she, the source of his morning pleasure.

I guess that is one way of Italy saying arrivederci! 

Next up...Switzerland.