After two nights in Verona, we went to Venice.
Well, honestly, I didn't want to go to Venice. I had been there before, years ago in '88--with Elisabeth actually. Oh, yes, it's extremely gorgeous, picturesque, unlike any other place in the world. But, for me, once was enough.
Jeff wanted to see it, so we went--with two nights reserved at a little hotel in the Academia district, far from the crowds of San Marco's square. Our room overlooked a sweet little canal, we could hear the tethered boats bumping in the night.
Again, the weather was perfect--gorgeous blue skies, crisp clean air--and this time it was getting chilly!
We walked and walked--I think this is one place that you can literally walk your ass off (if we were there for a few more weeks I'm certain I would have been able to fit into a smaller pant size!). No cars allowed, can't go more than fifty steps without having to climb some stairs to go over another bridge.
Let me just say that I think Keens are the perfect pair of travelling shoes. I have had a problem with my feet for years--any pair of shoes would cramp up my feet after a few hours of wearing. These Keens are the most comfortable, light weight, durable shoes I've ever worn. The only drawback being-- they're kinda goofy looking. Put it this way, they make Birkenstocks look sleek. But, since my feet ain't hurting, I ain't complaining.
I was surrounded again by gorgeous boot stores, and this time I was determined not to let my opportunity to own a pair of Italian boots pass me by. But, the experience I had every time I went into a shop was the same:
Me: Excuzee, do you have size 42? (size 11, for those of you not familiar with European sizing)
Salesclerk: (looking in disgust down at my gargantuan feet in my crazy Keens) No!
Every place stopped at size 41--and they only had a few pairs in 41 at that. It's funny how Nordstrom can carry my size in Italian and French shoes, but I can go to these countries and not be able to find them myself. Oh well! I didn't need to spend that money anyway. :-E
So Venice was nice, it was fine--but it's truly not my city. I can appreciate the unique beauty, the history, yadda, yadda, yadda--but it's hard for me to love a place that is so dependent on tourists, the same tourists that it's obvious the locals despise to keep itself afloat. Most visitors arrive on the morning train and leave on the evening train. After this last exodus, the city shuts down. It's crazy--it becomes a ghost town.
Once home to hundreds of thousands of people, Venice only has about 60,000 residents now--and that number is dwindling fast. As I said, the people here rely on the tourists to keep the city running--and you can see that they really don't like these hoards of people that mob their town every day. In Verona I felt that I could get swallowed up among the locals; in Venice I felt that I was a necessary evil.
Jeff thought it beautiful, however finally understand why I hadn't been enthusiastic about coming back--and was glad we came. I didn't hate it--it was nice just being with my love in a city that caters to romance. He assures me I won't have to come again!
The perfect Italian meal: Tartinas. Little slices of baguette, topped with various delights: mozzarella with prosciutto, different types of mackerel mixes, green onion jelly (delicious!), any type of Italian smoked meat. Accompanied by a brisk Italian vino rossi--molto buono! Like an Italian form of tapas.
Checked out of the hotel Friday morning, spent a couple hours on the steps of the train station people and bird watching. Italian seagulls are funny. They look just like ours, but they sound completely different. The closest I can come to describing their cry is like a crow's--but a couple pitches higher and more drawn out. It sounds like a witch gloating.
On the train, headed back to Austria. Italy is decidedly dirtier and louder than its gentle Tyrolian neighbor. We are forced into the luxury of first class seats as we Americans can only buy a Eurail pass for 1st class accomodations. At lake Guarda an attractive woman sat down in our little cabin that we had had mostly to ourselves.
After a few smiles we began to chat and had fabulous converstation for hours on all manner of topics, making the 6 hour ride feel like only 1. She was a documentary film maker for a Bavarian public television station and had made films on all sorts of topics--from death and dying and various human interest topics, to art-based focuses, such as the film on Titian and (I forget who else) that she had just been wrapping up in Venice. It was one of the things I had been craving, but hadn't gotten yet until this time--a connection with a stranger in a foreign land. I remember having so many of these when I visited Europe the first time in '88.
Brenner pass was covered with snow and had flurries coming like mad. When we arrived back in Landeck the temperature was noticeably colder and we were glad for the hats and gloves that we packed for the walk back to our hosts' house.
Once back there was warmth and food awaiting us--a fondue meal. Fondue always forces the participant to eat very slooowwwly. :-)
Highlights of Italy:
forcing myself to walk on the high ramparts of Ponte Castle Vecchio and face my dizzying fear of heights,
the Osteria Bulgiardi in Verona,
trying on Persol's and letting myself buy a pair,
the free cookie from our waiter,
the lovely old ladies at our Veronese hotel who were more than happy to give us sightseeing and language tutoring,
the funny old man who owned the wine and grappa shop we bought some limon chello from,
the sweet old Italian lady in Venice who thought we were lost when she saw us studying our map and wanted to point the way to San Marcos square (we were actually trying to locate a famous gelateria),
the mad ringing of the bells in San Marcos square for the call to worship,
eating and drinking at the little wine bar not far from our hotel,
people watching and note taking on fashions of the excursion,
great conversation on the train ride home,
and, who can forget,
amore,
amore,
amore!
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