Venice is Sinking

The highway from Austria to Italy eventually came to an end, and we transferred to a boat in order to ride down the Grand Canal into the city of Venice. All the buildings are slowly sinking and collapsing into one another, and the city’s confusing network of footpaths and canals makes getting from Point A to B a cartographical challenge. More than once, Angie and I could physically see a nearby place we wanted to reach but couldn’t do so without swimming, forcing us instead to backtrack through the maze and try another route.

Thankfully though, most paths eventually led back to the Piazza of San Marco, near St. Mark’s Basilica (home of the ACTUAL SAINT MARK, i.e. “Book of Mark,” i.e. one of the Gospel authors), the impressive Doge’s Palace, and—most importantly—many top-notch gelaterias.

Our first dinner in Italy was amazing as expected: giant portions of salad, seafood pasta and (of course) red wine at the restaurant next door to our hotel meant we didn’t mind sitting for a while afterward... in gondolas as part of our romantic nighttime cruise about town.

Our gondola’s guitarist and singer entertained not only us but all the people on the bridges and at ristorantes we passed along the way. The romantic Venetian mood was interrupted only briefly the next afternoon when Angie and I bumped into the same singer down a random alley, arguing in Italian on his cell phone. But he smiled and gave us a happy nod of recognition.

If it Pleases the Doge…

I tried so hard to develop a cultural appreciation for the treasures of artwork housed at the architecturally awesome Doge’s Palace, but I mostly spent my time biting my lip to keep from giggling at the Doge’s famous oblong, funny-shaped hat, portrayed flawlessly in each of the former Doges’ portraits.

As proof that foreign tourists are certainly not exempt from local laws, I got busted three times by the wandering guards for infractions at the Doge’s Palace: sneaking in my backpack, sitting in a forbidden chair, and having my feet up on a chair.

Nonetheless, it was an excellent palace, and we even got to cross the covered Bridge of Sighs into the ultra-creepy prison annex building.

Meeting Bellini

Stopping at every gelato shop we passed did slow down our self-guided walking tour a bit, but I think our newfound dessert expertise was well worth the effort. We wandered the streets, trying hard to get lost (as we had been instructed to do by guides Matt and Ragen), but we always seemed to wind up somewhere familiar. In fact, we kept running into the other tour group members—17 of them—all before lunchtime.

Finally, we found a cute little grocery shop. “How adorable!” Angie sighed. “This is our special, romantic shop that we worked so hard to find, let’s get a few snacks and have a picni—” but before she even finished, out with a grin waltzed Matt, Ragen and even Ricardo our bus driver. So maybe it wasn’t such a big city, but at least the presence of the guides strengthened our belief that this store was a hidden treasure after all.

Having been introduced the night before to my new friend Bellini, a popular cocktail of peach puree and sparkling wine, I opted to buy another bottle or two and then Angie and I headed back to the hotel to cook up a pesto pasta dinner and a few rounds of rummy, taking a break from the tour for a while longer.

The city of Venice is very beautiful but very sad, a quiet reminder of the fleeting magnificence of all great things that must one day come to an end. I tried not to think about the trip’s inevitable end in Paris, almost dreading the day I would first lay eyes on the Eiffel Tower.