More Like VeNICE
- Aug 31, 2017
- 5 min read
Don't worry, I hate myself for this title too.
I fell asleep in Austria and woke up in Italy, which sounds like a tale of kidnap, but actually refers to me dozing off during an 8 hour bus ride. BTW, highly recommend 8 hours worth of German countryside, Austrian Alps, and sweeping Italian hillsides scattered with many a ruinous castle. Also, unlike American buses, which are scary and somewhat murderous, European buses are very nice and also have wifi. Not that you need wifi when the view outside your window is the real version of what you’ve been pinning on Pinterest for the past 5 years.
It was dark when we arrived at our bus stop. From there we had to a train across a bridge to get to the actual island of Venice. We had a very stressful time in the train station trying to figure out how to contact the Airbnb man to let him know we were on our way because no-one had cell service and there was no wifi. To add to this scene, while Josie was trying to figure out what to do (the thing about Josie is that I really did want to help her figure all this travel stuff out, but she’s too smart, so by the time I’d come up with a possible solution to anything she’d already be halfway through acting on a fully-formulated plan) anyway, while she was figuring it out, I noticed a very suspicious looking man lurking about, and since Italy is notorious for pickpockets, I figured I’d probably found one, so my contribution to the endeavour was to keep a somewhat glaring eye on him while the other two dealt with the wifi. You’re welcome.
We did, at last, make it to the island, and then we took a canal bus to our street, where a VERY CUTE ITALIAN MAN was waiting for us to let us into the Airbnb. On the downside, he was married. On the upside, he carried my suitcases for me. (There are very few advantages to having a rolling suitcase instead of a travel backpack but this is one of them.)
Our Airbnb was…unique. Above the bed in Me and Josie’s room there were a bunch of weird ceramic cherubs hanging on the wall, and then all over the house were just a bunch of pictures of naked ladies. Like, some were paintings, but some were just these old black and white photos of these chicks completely starkers. Everytime I went to flick the light switch in our room I’d be getting stared down by a rather rubenesque early 20th century lady in her birthday suit. I should probably clarify that cute suitcase carrying boy was not the owner of the apartment and was not responsible for the interesting artwork. On the plus side, the apartment did have a very magical and tiny secret loft/reading nook which could only be reached via spiral staircase. Anyway, moving on.
The following day we wandered the streets and alleys with great joy and wanderlust. Venice is nice because you don’t really have to plan trips to specific attractions. The city itself is the attraction. We walked around by the grand canal and went to an open-air market and had a look around and bought some fruit. I had purchased a pair of yellow-tinted sunglasses at an outdoor booth so I was seeing everything through a golden haze, a worldview which I highly recommend.
We lunched at a nice tourist trap with pricing that was expensive but reasonable-expensive, because that’s all you can hope for in a place as touristy as Venice. Our waiter was very snobby and judgemental of us not ordering any wine, but we had been walking around in the sun all day and we already had to pay 4 euro for water, so gosh-darn it Mr., sorry to burst your bubble but we are peasants doing our best.
The rest of the afternoon and evening we continued to wander, our adventures leading us toward a gelateria (we made a solemn vow to eat gelato at least once a day whilst in Italy) and streets full of shops and stalls where you could buy masks and Venetian glass and all sorts of fabulous unnecessary things. There are all sorts of mask for sale ranging from 2 and 3 euro ones they crank out for tourists to ultra-fancy expensive ones made by artistes in their studio-shops. Josie and I put a lot of time and effort into finding masks that spoke to our souls. I got a black and gold one and she got black (like her soul, she says). Also, I can 100% confirm that we located the headquarters of the happy mask salesman from Majora’s Mask. It was a tiny, magical shop full of ultra-creepy hand-made masks hanging from the ceiling and mounted on the walls. Fortunately, no-one was transformed into a Deku Scrub (Scrub? Shrub? Whatever, only 3% of the people reading this blog get this reference anyway).
Once it got dark we headed back to the apartment, stopping by McDonald’s for dinner. Yes, even in Venice, there is no escape from McDonald’s for peasants such as we. Anyway, we got our food, got home, and I opened my Chicken Selects, only to discover that they had only given me TWO FRICKIN CHICKEN SELECTS. TWO. What is this lunacy? In what universe is that an acceptable amount of anything? Is it me? Am I, as an American, spoiled by abundant meats? I think not. Surely it is the right of every citizen of the world to have at last 3 chicken selects. Whatever. I just thought my time in Italy would be a lot more like Eat Pray Love wear she eats so much pasta she can’t button her jeans, but in reality I was wandering a wilderness of over-priced small portions. I learned to stock up on chocolate bars from grocery stores (those are cheap wherever you go, usually around 50 cents each) which can be used in emergencies in lieu of a proper meal. Like those meal replacement diet shakes, but with the opposite effect.
The following day involved more exploring. It was kind of a drizzly, cloudy day, but I really liked it because the day before had been gorgeous and sunny so each time the city had a different vibe and it was super cool to experience both. Josie and I wandered around in the rain and went to Piazza San Marco, which is sort of the town square and has a big cathedral. We also walked by the window of a shop and apparently the handsome young Italian man inside winked at me but I didn’t see, so there went my only chance of a sweeping romantic adventure like girls in movies always have when they go to Europe. Josie and Harrison went out on a date that evening, which was fine with me because that meant I got the apartment to myself and I spent the evening dancing around to Panic! At The Disco in my Venetian mask.
The final important story of our Venetian adventures is the story of me and Josie discovering that the back wall of our wardrobe was actually a sliding panel, and, with great fear and trembling, we moved it aside to discover that in the secret compartment behind it was:
A small ceramic tiger statue.
The End. See you in Rome.
Comments