Venice in Real Time

Exerpts from my actual paper journal carried with me during the trip.

Venice Day 1:
After a long and sleepless flight, we arrived at Marco Polo Airport
(actual name) at 8:45 local time. This, of course, means that my
little Canadian body thinks it's still 2:45 and is all like, "Dude,
what are you doing up right now?" We ignored these feelings happening
in both of us, found our luggage and a taxi, and made our way to the
"terminal."
The entrance to Venice proper is a giant bus terminal beside a train
station, then a huge pedestrian bridge. There is absolutely NO
driving the streets of the island. Zero cars. Also, so far, zero
bicycles. There are, however, plenty of water taxis, gondolas, and
privately owned boats. It's wonderful to see doors on the water's
edge leading obviously to the garage where a person stores his or her
boat. Also interesting to note are the bridges leading directly to a
person's front door.
Upon arrival, Jim and I immediately were both completely enamoured,and
completely lost. Luckily, we were two hours early for check-in time,
so we had the opportunity to be lost without penalty (besides having
to drag extremely heavy sacks around with us in the tiny streets and
even tinier "Calle"s. Eventually after using an expensive GPS
tracking, we made our way to Alloggi Henry, an adorable 3 star hotel
in the back of a tiny side street. It opens onto a large shared
terrace. Being as we were several hours early, we did not receive a
room immediately. However, the generous and friendly proprietor took
our bags from us, hid them behind the desk and told us to go find
something to eat. He gave us a map and the business card of a
restaurant he appreciates and told us to come back in one hour. He
spoke mostly french to us as my limited Italian is very rusty and Jim
has less of it than I, but we both have a surprisingly good grasp of
our old dusty french.
So we wandered for an hour, afraid of getting lost, but refusing to
refer to the map yet. Hilariously, we found a LUSH, something we had
previously believed to be an entirely North American obsession. We
also found a liquor store open on Sundays,followed a Nun down a dark
alley, were followed by a priest down the same dark alley. Jim had
his very first Italian pizza (Margherita) experience, which was a joy
to watch. We may have permanently ruined pizza for ourselves.
Following this, we grabbed some fruit from an outdoor market, seduced
the world's largest bottle of water and took our winnings back to the
hotel to check in.
The room is extremely cute: low double bed, tiny closet, tiny shower,
huge curtains. Once we had washed away the smell of airplanes, napped
a bit and changed our shoes we were back out, looking for experiences
and photo opportunities. We almost immediately found a good photo-op
and sent it out to our parents and friends to let them know we had
arrived. Then we found espresso. Nothing, and I am completely
serious, will EVER be better than the espresso and the Americano we
shared at this local cafe. We fumbled our way into buying a tin of
the house blend (cute tin + delicious espresso = happy Emily). After
this, we toddled around the nearest square and came upon the Scuola
Grande di San Teodoro where, that evening, they were showing "I Musici
Veneziani," a sort of Baroque/Opera variety show. Of course we bought
tickets and were delighted to have grand evening plans.
So many shops were full of theatrical masks and costumes, many others
full of decorated notebooks, quill pens and calligraphy sets, chess
tables, jewelry, and other things to entertain the both of us. Then,
by a bit of luck and a bit of map work, we found Piazza San Marco.
Jim has never loved a church until now. I even managed to convince him
that we should take a tour the following day, as things had since
closed. The size, the architecture, the art, the sheer amount of
money that has clearly gone into making this a beautiful tribute to
the Christian god is overwhelming. Across the water you can see Isola
di San Giorgio Maggiore, and entire little island devoted to an overly
large Catholic church.
By now it is somehow getting late and we have to head back to the
hotel to change and prepare for an evening of opera.
The performances were sublime. The whole orchestra was flawless. The
tenor had the gift of perfect pitch. The baritone was charismatic and
entertaining, The soprano possessed not only great gifts but also
great versatility (I had never heard a quiet section of song in an
opera until this night). Also, the tenor bore a striking resemblance
to one of my uncles.
Following musical bliss was gastronomical heaven. Never had I found
such a well prepared and enormous fillet of grilled salmon. Never
either had a Pinot Grigio fit a meal as well as it did this meal.
Then, of course, we stood on a huge bridge overlooking the Canal
Grande, (Ponte Rialto) took a few pictures, and made out like happy adolescents
before making our way back to our tiny room with giant curtains and
collapsing into a joyful sleep.