Leaving Venezia

We had no plans for our last night in Venice. It had been a day of cleaning and getting ready to leave a city we weren’t certain we wanted to leave yet. We were finally feeling comfortable in wandering the calles and fondamenti around the island without worrying about getting terminally lost. After all, how can you be expected to find all those places you aren’t looking for without getting lost occasionally? Public transportation only held surprises for us, not barriers.
My knee was becoming the limiting factor in our journeys around town, but it felt better if it was exercised and stressed a bit, so we headed out with no real destination or goal. Our path took us past the Rialto and along the Grand Canal into new areas. During the day, this part of town is jammed with tourists and locals catering to them. After 19:00, only the occasional shop was still looking to harvest the few dollars or euros available. Screams rang out from upper floors of buildings, signaling the ups and downs of the football match against Romania. (It ended in a 1-1 tie. But we were robbed!) An elderly grandmother in a shop allowed me to watch the game on her small television as long as the LB kept shopping.
We ended up, as it seemed we always did, at San Marco, just in time for the passeggiata, listening to the dueling orchestras competing for the attention of locals and tourists alike. We strolled the waterfront again, listening to the incessant squabbling of the gondoliers, sounding like nothing so much as a group of feisty seagulls all squawking, “Mine, mine” (It helps to understand if you have grandchildren!) After all this activity, we decided to have a last meal and stopped into a little trattoria for a quick meal of sweet & sour sardines and steamed mussels. The sardines are a local delicacy in Venice and really are much better than they sound. The little café was on a new street, so we decided to follow it toward home. After encountering several watery cul-de-sacs, I was forced to use my map…so much for finding my way around town. Fortunately, in this place you go from totally lost to home in the span of a single turn. Such was the case last night, with “our church”, S. Maria dei Miracoli, jumping out as we made the corner and crossed the bridge.
The weather during our stay in Venice has been beautiful…warm and sunny during the day, with cool evenings. Yet visiting Venice is very much like going to New Orleans or Galveston. Even when the weather is good, it is going to be damp and humid, so you may as well get used to the idea. Our departure day dawned drippy, gray and cold. By the time we were packed and ready to leave, it had increased to a steady drizzle, making for an uncomfortable walk to the vaporetto stop. An enterprising flower shop owner earned my thanks and a few euros by having a display of umbrellas by the door. The vaporetto came to our rescue, and provided our transportation to the rail station. At one time I had suggested to the LB we walk from our apt to the station, but she vetoed that idea quickly. Sometimes (?) she really does think straighter than I do.
At the station, we walked into what appeared mass chaos. If we had not stopped and reconnoitered the layout during a previous outing at a quiet time, we would have been lost. As it worked out, we had time for cappuccinos and still found our train and even the correct car, unlike quite a few of the other American tourists. On the track next to ours, sat the latest incarnation of the Orient Express. Their passengers didn’t have to schlep their own luggage, since the liveried porters delivered it directly to their stateroom. Another porter went from compartment to compartment, placing fresh flowers in each. I also noticed the passengers didn’t dress like the rag-tag bunch of locals and tourists on our train.
Finally, the train eased out of the station and began the trip to Florence. Since we were travelling on the Euro Star, there were only a few stops along the way, first in Mestre (which is the Venice station on the mainland), then Padua, and finally Bologna before pulling into Florence’s S. Maria Novella station. At times it seems as if everything in this country is named after one saint or another. It sounds beautiful, but can make it difficult to keep track of where you are. In Florence, the plan had been to catch the bus to the airport to pick up our rental car, but the LB was looking a wee bit frazzled, so I splurged on a taxi. It proved much easier getting there, but I’m not sure it helped her nerves any. The taxi driver seemed determined to see how close he could come to every other vehicle on the road. Lanes and signals obviously meant little to him as he slalomed through traffic, determined to set a new speed record on this fixed price run.
At the car rental office, all went smoothly after I convinced the clerk I really hadn’t reserved a 3-door Yugo. The correct paperwork was located and soon we were headed out into the streets of Florence. The airport is on the outskirts of the city, so it was not difficult to find the autostrada headed toward Roma. We veered off toward Sienna and then were on some of the prettiest back roads I’ve ever driven. Next stop: Chiusdino!

Friday, 13 June 2008
Happy Friday the 13th! Last night the LB got to take her boat ride. Yes, it is an extravagance, but when you consider how much it has cost to get here and how long it has taken to make the trip, and how grumpy(oops), I mean how terribly, terribly disappointed the LB would be if she didn’t get her romantic gondola ride, it is well worth the cost. Just before dusk, we tracked down a gondolier (they’re everywhere) and set forth for a quiet tour of the area we have been living in for the past week. We have spent a lot of time standing on bridges, gazing at the canals flowing underneath, but from water level all looks different. By the time our ride began, the delivery traffic had stopped, so we encountered very few motorized boats, mostly just other gondolas. Quiet, smooth waters, with the occasional tourists watching from bridges as we glide past. I often wonder how many photo albums the LB & I will appear in around the world, because it seems as though someone is taking our picture every time we turn around. After our ride, we strolled until my knee got tired, and then repaired to our favorite pizza parlor in Campo SS Apostoli. It is the magnet to which we are drawn whenever we get lost. Don’t know how, but we’ll be stumbling along lost, wondering where in the blazes we are, and then suddenly pop out into the campo. Plus they have the best pizza we’ve had in Venice.
Today is our last day in Venezia. It will be a day of washing, packing and checking details for the next part of our trip, which will see us in Tuscany. We’ll get this posted today, but we don’t know what the state of the internet will be in the small town of Chiusdino, which is where we will be staying for the next week. We’ll have a car, so we should be able to get out and about a little more, and see some of the countryside. Tomorrow we’ll hop on the train for Florence and then LB gets to navigate us through the hills of Tuscany, while I mix it up with the Italians on the autostrada!
Ciao!

Thursday, June 12, 2008
Memos to self:
1. Next trip to Venice, bring slipper socks. Stone floors get really cold!
2. Don’t characterize the lovely bride (LB) as being a grump when she is gastronomically challenged. For some reason, she finds this objectionable and becomes grumpy.

Today was the day we had set aside for exploring the lagoon islands. At the Fondamente Nove vaporetto stop, we purchased 48 hour passes so we can hop on and off as much as we want between now and when we head for the train station Saturday morning. We caught the 41 boat for Murano, and headed for the glass museum, with the LB keeping her eyes open for souvenir possibilities along the way. The museum gives a pretty good overview of the history of glassmaking in the lagoon, dating back to the time of Christ. We headed out to do some serious shopping on the way back to the vaporetto, stopping at several likely looking shops. One was promising, even though it was a little up-scale for us, but the staff sat and visited with each other and completely ignored their customers. So even though I had found what I thought I wanted, we left in search of a more hospitable shopping environment. Sure enough, about half way to the vaporetto stop, we found a much smaller shop where the owner was a young Italian woman who spoke to us in passable English, let us move pieces to better appreciate the colors, and advised us about the high costs of shipping items to the US. It wasn’t any real difference in merchandise quality, but rather her attitude and personable approach which caused us to buy in her shop.
We cut short our cruise around the lagoon after my bum leg started giving me trouble. There was an unmarked step-down in the museum which I missed, my knee made an interesting and not altogether natural sound, so Burano and Torcello will just have to wait until our next trip to the Veneto.
We returned to our apt too late for lunch and too early for dinner, so we rummaged in the fridge and munched on leftovers to keep up our strength. We keep picking up cantaloupe, prosciutto, cheese of varying types, bread, fresh fruit and so on whenever we are wandering the back alleys, so there has been no real threat of losing weight while on holiday. Satisfied for the moment, we are going to rest up to prepare ourselves for the real meal of the day this evening, whatever it may be. If we ate like this at home, we would feel very, very guilty. Here our gluttony is just part of showing our appreciation for cultural diversity, and it is the least we can do. Alleluia!

Wednesday, 11 June 2008
Today was one of those days when nothing we had planned came to fruition, but it was still one of the nicest days of the trip. First, we managed to ignore the alarm and snooze until after 9:30. Scrounged breakfast from the fridge, and headed out quite a bit later than planned. We headed to San Marco by a different route, going by way of C. Santa Maria Formosa and San Zaccaria Church. All was well until we left C. Formosa and went astray, once again. Somehow we missed San Zaccaria completely and arrived at the Arsenale, or military headquarters for Venice. We managed to convince them we really weren’t looking at their Amphibious Assault Ship, and went on our way. If they didn’t want people to take pictures, you’d think they wouldn’t park it in the main channel!
After walking the back streets for a couple of hours, we found ourselves on the waterfront where all the hotel shuttles, water taxis and vaporetti come and go. The lovely bride was beginning to grump a bit since she hadn’t been fed since our makeshift breakfast, so we found a dockside café and had a beer each and split a plate of antipasto. She mellowed out considerably after absorbing some of the Birra Morretti, nibbling on prosciutto and salami, sitting in the sea breeze and people watching. A word of caution; check the menu before ordering anyplace close to the center of touristic activities…the beers ended up costing 11 euros each, or a little more than $18. By the time we got to Piazza San Marco, all was closed, so we headed home by way of the Ferrari store. Lots of interesting stuff there…just bring money.
After a short naptime, we headed out to find some dinner. One place we had seen in our comings and goings was a small corner ristorante in Campo S. Maria Nova named the Antico Gatoleto. http://www.ristoranteanticogatoleto.com/ We showed up and ducked inside just as a small thunderstorm blew in. Parking at a corner table, we were able to watch the other patrons as they interacted with the staff. This was the kind of friendly, neighborhood place we are always looking for, but rarely find. Even though about half of the diners were tourists, the waiter was friendly and attentive. There was none of the coldness or even rudeness we have too frequently seen among wait staff who primarily serve tourists. We were made to feel this was our neighborhood diner, and the staff was really glad to see us, not just tolerant of our presence. When our food began arriving, we realized there was more than just the staff to bring us back again. We had a variety of seafood as well as two different veal dishes and salad, finishing up with espressos when we couldn’t find room for dessert. For once we were in agreement that this was the best meal we’ve shared since arriving in Venice.

Same day, just later.

I had forgotten how restorative naps can be. After our little snack, Susan worked on her blog for a bit, and I stretched out to rest my eyes…just for fifteen minutes or so. Several hours later, I roused up enough to realize I needed to feed my lovely bride before she started getting cranky again. We headed for a bar we had heard about which advertised live jazz, as well as decent food. On arrival, we found it had been taken over by a gaggle of foreigners, and ‘twas a jumping joint. After a brief consultation we elected to search for a quieter venue.
We wandered toward San Marco and ended up in the piazza. Amazing the difference between mid-day and 6:00pm. There were still people around the square, but most of them were trying to leave and get back to hotels or cruise ships. The museums and Basilica were closed, so the only thing to do was stroll about and people watch. We found an Italian seafood restaurant a block or so off the square, and settled in for a five course meal. Baby octopi, sweet & sour sardines, spaghetti with mussels, sautéed prawns, fried squid, shrimps, and minnows were just some of the interesting things crawling across our plates. While eating, two large groups of American school kids came into the restaurant: one extremely noisy, loud and northeastern in dialect; the second was quieter, more tastefully attired, and sat at three tables close to us. Susan & I kept trying to guess where they were from by their dress and behavior. Ruled out anywhere northern, especially after half of them ordered coca-colas, and they weren’t tanned enough to be from the west coast. Susan settled on Atlanta, based simply on the fact that the teacher leading the group and several of the guys were wearing deck shoes with no socks (a la Lewis Grizzard). As we were leaving, I had to ask where they were from, and they were from Beaufort, South Carolina. One girl was excited to hear we were from Texas since she is going to SMU in the fall. It’s a small world, indeed.
We arrived back at Piazza S. Marco in time for the evening passeggiata, or stroll. The personality of the square was completely changed from mid-day. Orchestras were set up in front of cafes around the edges of the piazza, and took turns playing sets of different music. This ranged from Broadway show tunes to Vivaldi. If you feel like sitting, the café will charge you for the privilege of doing so with a 10 Euro coberto or cover charge. We opted to just stroll the square with the crowd of mostly locals, listening to first one and then another orchestra in the gathering darkness. After this mostly perfect evening, I did manage to get lost again on the way back to the apt. Some things never change.
Ciao for now.

A Slow Day?

Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Today we have started out on a calmer note. Traipsing over the Ponte S. Maria Nova, brought us to the campo and a canal-side café. Susan & I settled into a tavola with our cappuccinos, and undertook some serious people watching. She thinks she is able to pick out the different furriners by their demeanor and dress (or lack thereof). Even though I’m not as confident in ID’ing Germans, Frenchies, Americans, etc., it is easy to spot the Italians. They tend to dress much better and move through their world with an air of confidence lacking in all the others. Some of the tourists, Germans especially, attempt to make up for this lack of confidence with a display of arrogance which can make even the Americans look good in comparison.
Last night we found an Internet café with a wireless hot-spot which allowed us to clear out the emails and post some pictures to our blogs. It was your typical little hole-in-wall Italian pizza parlor, run by a family of Chinese. We did alright getting drinks and food ordered since we stuck to the basics…vino rosso and pizza. Some Germans came in after us, and were trying to order complex Italian dishes in German from the Chinese waitress…it was not pretty.
One surprise in Venice has been the multitude of dogs. If I had given it any thought before arriving, I probably would have predicted it to be a cat city, with little or no solid ground and everything covered with concrete. But we have yet to sight our first cat, and there is a constant swirl of puppies around us wherever we venture. Evidently, the Venetians take them along to work, and they stay throughout the day. All sizes, all breeds…there is no real pattern other than it seems every third resident has one, and the puppies tend to be very well trained. And there are no messes in the streets. As we sat this morning, we saw several doggies do their business, and their owners immediately swooped in, picked up the poo and dropped it in the trash, obviously a routine part of their day.
We headed out to go to the grocery which is just up the street (alleyway) from the apartment. We’ve only been past it a ½ dozen times so far, so naturally yours truly gets lost and we end up on the Strada Nuova, which is one of the largest shopping areas after Rialto. I tried to get Susan interested in doing a little light window shopping since we were already there, but all we picked up were some picture postcards. Since I had already been lost in that area several times on this trip, we quickly found the COOP store and picked up some necessities. Left there and stopped at the fruit stand to pick up some melon and cherries, then next door to the cheese shop for some asiago fresa to go with our prosciutto. In fact, Susan just brought me a plate with some cheese, prosciutto, pane and fresh cherries for a little snack to tide me over until time for espressos in an hour or two. Then we have to discuss where we’ll go for supper…I think seafood tonight. So eat your hearts out people, cause we’re sure not in Naruna anymore, are we Toto?

How many times can an Aggie get lost on an Island?

Monday, June 09, 2008
So much for good intentions! I managed, with help from my alarm, to crawl out of bed at an earlier hour this morning. Susan got the café brewed and served up (she really does take care of me) and we headed out the door on time. We even found our way back to and across the Rialto Bridge, and on to the church of the Frari, which was our mission for the day. It was after the tour of the church that I managed to get us lost again for a largish span of time. It was only when we were trying to get onto the causeway which connects Venice with the mainland that I realized my error. The only thing which made it bearable was the young couple from North Carolina who came up to us asking directions on getting to Venice…they are probably in Austria by now. I guess I should have known we were going astray when we went strolling across a parking lot…after only two days here, it really felt strange to see cars instead of boats.
The Frari was well worth the prolonged walk. It has works of Bellini and Titian as well as others who made their paintings and sculptures for just this setting. It makes some of the pieces in museums look lost, lonely, and out of context in comparison. If you are really interested in Venetian art, Google the Frari, etc. I feel I’ve done good to decide whether I personally like something, but I can’t begin to explain it to others, so I’ll try not to write art reviews and chase everyone away.
While we wandered lost on the periphery of this island city, we happened upon a green spot. It only takes a short time to become accustomed to the lack of grass and other vegetation, so finding an actual park with trees and shrubs and flowers was a welcome respite. It is hard to imagine trees in this place which is built on mud flats covered with stone.
I really need to start feeding Susan on a regular schedule. I am so used to grabbing a doughnut and a cup of coffee before embarking on a surgery marathon, which frequently sails right through lunch, I don’t think about stopping at a particular time for meals. However, Susan gets really testy if I don’t slow for real food with some regularity. I would even say she gets cranky if she has to skip meals. It seems one of her ideas of an Italian vacation revolves around an endless supply of pasta dishes, with some new and untried variety always available for tasting. After 32 years, I should know better.
It is about time for us to hit the sidewalks and canals again. Susan spotted an Internet café with wireless access, so we will try to find it again and connect with the outside world. After that, who knows what the night will bring us?
Ciao from Venezia