I woke early still trying to find a way out of my technological nightmare. I pondered several ideas and decided that if there was a card reader so that I could upload my photos I would purchase another iPad. With that decided, I threw on some clothes, grabbed my camera and headed to the Rialto Mercato del Pesce.
The Mercato is a hub of activity early in the morning. Venetians haggle with fishmongers over the price of cuttlefish, octopus and scampi. They inspect the lagoon delicacies with a microscopic eye to ensure the freshness of the catch. Sometimes you can hear some raised voices as they play the expected game of questioning the cost and freshness of the fish. It is all part of the daily Mercato experience.
I am amazed at the endless varieties of fish at the pescheria. Razor clams, scallops in shell, all types of crabs and fish, both huge and so tiny that they hardly seem worth eating. All are so beautiful that I take enough photos to open a fish photography museum!
Afterwards, I walk to the top of the Rialto Bridge to drink in the sheer beauty of the Grand Canal. I absolutely adoreVenice in the early morning hours - before the day trippers descend on the island and begin to clog and congest the narrow streets and alleys.
Despite the hub-bub of early morning activity on the Grand Canal it is very peaceful and serene. Looking out over Venice you can see how proud and regal she stands even as the morning light reveals a slight shabbiness to her timeless facades. It is easy to see why she is called La Serenissima. There is something so peaceful about this floating city that one can't help but feel a sense of calm. That is until the masses arrive and clog her narrow arteries faster than a Southern fried meal!
Now that the businesses that dot the tiny streets and campos are open, I rush to see if I can find an iPad and card reader so I can continue to blog and upload pictures. Unbelievably, there is no card reader to fit the iPad anywhere on the the island! I move to plan B, which is to purchase the Samsung Tab 3, which I am assured you can upload pictures directly to. Approximately $632 later, I am in my apartment.... looking at a micro SD card opening.. which, of course, none of my SD memory cards are!
Giving up on the dream of being able to upload and share my photos, I spend the rest of the day trying to translate everything on the tablet from Italian to English and decipher how the tablet works. Frustrated beyond belief I decide to stash my half empty bottle of Prosecco in the fridge, get dolled up and go out for a proper dinner, not my usual salami and cheese.
I walk a couple of blocks to Strada Nuova business district of Cannaregio and stop and read the menu at a restaurant mentioned in Tripadvisor. During my daylong frustration I lost my appetite, however, the maitre'd convinces me to come inside. The interior is lovely and I am enchanted by the decor.
I order my prosecco in English and the couple at the table next to me immediately says, "Oh, you are by yourself, do you want to talk to us?" I laughed and said of course. Mike and Mary live in Detroit and were in Venice before joining their Rick Steves tour of Italy. The funny, outgoing couple are committed to their troubled hometown city of Detroit, Michigan and I can tell from their conversation they have liberal leanings.
Mike is an internist, who believes in Health Care Reform and Mary, who is in hospital administration, agrees. I am beyond amazed to find a physician who agrees with "Obamacare". We chat about our industry for a while with Mike liberally peppering his comments with humor. He is a lot of fun and kind of a touchy- feely guy always grabbing my arm or touching my back to add emphasis to his commentary.
When the conversation turns to traveling, Mary encourages Mike to "tell the Barcelona story." Mike commences to tell the tale of how he was pick-pocketed in Barcelona. Gesticulating while he shares what he calls "the most embarrassing moment for any man" he tells how the pickpocket actually removed his wallet from his FRONT pocket. Of course, I am doubled up with laughter as he concludes, "And the most humiliating part is I didn't even feel a thing!"
With great flourish he pats his stomach and says "Now I wear a money belt. But, of course, I don't want anyone to see it so I let Mary pay for everything." I look at Mary and say, "So Mary, where do you carry your money and credit cards ?" With a twinkle in her eye she responds, "My purse, of course," and produces your garden variety non-secure shoulder bag.
We banter back and forth and while I eat my dinner and they drink more wine. I can't remember when I have enjoyed spending time with a married couple more. Each of them was fun and engaging in their own way.
After getting a bottle of wine "to go" Mike and Mary say good bye and go in search of gelato. Dr Mike has vowed to eat gelato every single day of his three week trip. Wine and gelato??? These really are my kind of people!
I arrive home slightly buzzed and pour my last glass of prosecco while I go online with the new Samsung tablet. It feels really good to be "connected" and to once again be able to communicate with those I love back home.
After two technologically frustrating days, I am back in the saddle again and it feels great! My evening with such a charming and delightful couple was the icing on the cake... or to be more correct... the cherry on the gelato!
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Day Thirteen - My Grand Addiction
It is said that one of the reasons for Venice's decline was their proclivity towards excesses. Being here it is easy to understand. The audacity to build a city in the middle of a lagoon on piles of trees, build huge grand palazzos lining the main waterway, and festoon their gondolas with ostentatious decorations shows their penchant toward excess. The fact that the residents preened like ostriches in foppish and gaudy dress in the 15th century cements the claim even more.
Just being here in this place of excesses, makes one inclined to indulge in some excesses of their own. I have developed a habit of swilling the wonderfully inexpensive and delicious prosecco that is sold in bulk here. I have also developed a weakness for Gelato Fantasy's otherworldly amarena cherry gelato. (My physician will be happy to know in the last four days I have cut back from my normal three scoops a day to two.)
But undoubtedly my most serious addiction is the Grand Canal. I simply am incapable of going one day without viewing that mesmerizing waterway... usually from the top of the Rialto Bridge. I could sit their for days taking pictures of this majestic lady whose undulating movement dominates La Serenissima.
Today I started my day the way I have started the last several, by going to the Rialto Mercato to photograph the beautiful produce and the hundreds of types of lagoon fresh fish. After checking out my favorite haunts in San Polo sestiere I started back over the Rialto Bridge. Every time, I get no farther than the second step before I pull out my camera and begin to snap away. I always feel this urgency to capture the perfect picture; one that will capture the exquisite serenity that still dominates despite the frenzy of activity. Like most days I spend some time at the top of the bridge taking pictures for lovers, families and friends who want a photo of themselves with the Grand Canal as the backdrop.
Next destination - San Marco, where the orchestra has been playing at this time most mornings. On the way I stop for some amarena gelato and briefly wonder how I will exist without my daily fix. The music in the piazza is exhilarating and for a time I watch a bridal fashion shoot before heading back to my apartment.
Later that night I head back to the Hosteria Al Vecio Bragosso praying that my excellent meal from the day before was not a fluke. The grilled fish fish with orange sauce and grilled vegetables were excellent and my dining companions for the evening were equally delightful. Richard and Allison, a very friendly and chatting couple, live in the English countryside.
We happily converse for awhile about their country (she's a royalist who was NOT a Princess Diana fan). Richard works in IT in London and stays there during the week. Each has been married before, and I was amused at his frequent travel memory lapses. He would say, "Remember dear when we were in... ?" To which Allison would smile indulgently and reply "No dear, that must have been your first wife".
We talked about the world view of the U.S. and how we are viewed as a bully and the moral arbiter of the world. We discussed Syria and, while we we are appalled by the use of chemical weapons, we agreed that like Britain the U.S. should stay out of Syria and that any action should be only through the United Nations.
We talked until closing with me promising to visit the country that they loved so much.
As we left in opposite directions, I was left to ponder if my "Grand Addiction" had been replaced by a more serious addiction to the stimulating international conversations with all those I had met on this trip.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Day Eleven: Mixed Blessings
Like the energizer bunny I hit the ground running with incredible energy and high spirits. I took my Nikon out of hiding and headed to the Rialto Mercato to catch the early morning light. I LOVE photographing farmers market produce as it's so colorful and lush.
The early morning sun hit the Grand Canal and the shimmering water looked like a diamond dotted fantasyland. The market, which is located right on the Grand Canal, is an impressive sight. Row after row of vibrant fruits and vegetables line up in military precision, just waiting to be plucked up by discriminating Italian housewives. Since it was Monday, the Pesceria wasn't open as no fishing is done on Sunday. While disappointed, I knew I would return another day to see the infinite varieties of lagoon fish. I snapped away in this photographer's dream setting unable to stop. After shooting 250 photos I headed back to the apartment, to exchange the Nikon for my much lighter Canon.
Then it was on to San Marco to purchase another 3 day vaporetto pass. Of course... I stopped at Gelato Fantasy for two scoops of amarena cherry gelato. With my pass in hand I hopped on the number one vaporetto to the Salute stop so I could see the Santa Maria della Salute Basilica up close and personal. I had taken many photos of the beautiful church from across the canal but longed to see the exquisite exterior up close. It was as beautiful as I had imagined.
I continued up the Grand Canal to the Accademia stop. I had read that the La Accademia Bridge was a wonderful photo op. Exhausted from the heat and humidity, I stopped at a snack bar near the bridge and purchased a Red Bull. Immediately I heard an American voice saying in a distinct New York accent, "Now that will put a little pep in your step!" And that is how I met Gary and Susan from Sarasota, New York, who immediately asked me to join them to go see the Peggy Guggenheim Museum.
We decided that we would first go and see the Leonardo da Vinci exhibit at Gallerie dell'Accademia. While I was reluctant to go to this museum, I was very glad that I did. On display were 52 da Vinci drawings, which were nothing short of incredible! I was blown away by how detailed the drawings were, especially the ones that were 3" by 3". The precision of the the musculature sketches of both humans and horses were downright amazing. I had seen original paintings by da Vinci before but was far more impressed with these drawings.
About 1/2 a mile away was the Guggenheim. The museum, the former home of the bohemian socialite and art collector, houses an impressive collection of Modern Art including pieces by Kadinsky, Ernst, Klee, Dali and Picasso among others. One of my favorite artists was Peggy Guggenheim's daughter Pegeen Vail.
The museum is located directly on the Grand Canal- which I appear to be floating on at the right.
After wandering the grounds for a bit, I bid farewell to my delightful companions, who were headed to the Jewish Ghetto. I decided to walk back to my apartment over the Accademia Bridge and shoot some photos. While the view was indeed wonderful, my favorite view remained the one from the Rialto Bridge.
It was a really long way back and with my ankles sore from all the walking I decided to stop for a late lunch/early dinner at a restaurant on a canal near Campo Santi Apostoli, just a few blocks from home.
While the octopus salad looked wonderful, it tasted like it had been boiled and had a slight slimy quality to it. (Not at all like the lovely calamari salads in Portugal.)
The wine was more to my liking. I also ordered the tiramisu and decided I am not really a tiramisu person.
After this disappointing meal, I was anxious to get home to upload all of my pictures and review and edit them for posting to Facebook. This is always one of the best parts of my day. I love photography and aspire to be so much better than I actually am.
I eagerly inserted the memory card into my Mac and .... it started to go crazy and try to upload already uploaded photos. I turned it off to try again and..... much to my dismay it immediately turned itself off. I tried repeatedly, but, my Mac had died.. "A Death in Venice"!
Now I had no way to communicate to anyone back home and I panicked. It became more important to have a phone that worked so I literally ran to the the Vodafone store to purchase yet another phone since I arrived here. I asked about a computer repair shop on the island and they looked at me like I had two heads! There was no such thing in Venice. Everyone goes to the mainland to do all their shopping and for service issues.
I was beside myself. I felt alone and isolated. The day that had been such a high had deteriorated beyond belief. I had no internet, no Skype, no way to watch movies and no way to communicate to my loved ones.
I cursed the information age and the technology gods and went to bed... hoping tomorrow would bring a solutions to my technological woes!
The early morning sun hit the Grand Canal and the shimmering water looked like a diamond dotted fantasyland. The market, which is located right on the Grand Canal, is an impressive sight. Row after row of vibrant fruits and vegetables line up in military precision, just waiting to be plucked up by discriminating Italian housewives. Since it was Monday, the Pesceria wasn't open as no fishing is done on Sunday. While disappointed, I knew I would return another day to see the infinite varieties of lagoon fish. I snapped away in this photographer's dream setting unable to stop. After shooting 250 photos I headed back to the apartment, to exchange the Nikon for my much lighter Canon.
Then it was on to San Marco to purchase another 3 day vaporetto pass. Of course... I stopped at Gelato Fantasy for two scoops of amarena cherry gelato. With my pass in hand I hopped on the number one vaporetto to the Salute stop so I could see the Santa Maria della Salute Basilica up close and personal. I had taken many photos of the beautiful church from across the canal but longed to see the exquisite exterior up close. It was as beautiful as I had imagined.
I continued up the Grand Canal to the Accademia stop. I had read that the La Accademia Bridge was a wonderful photo op. Exhausted from the heat and humidity, I stopped at a snack bar near the bridge and purchased a Red Bull. Immediately I heard an American voice saying in a distinct New York accent, "Now that will put a little pep in your step!" And that is how I met Gary and Susan from Sarasota, New York, who immediately asked me to join them to go see the Peggy Guggenheim Museum.
We decided that we would first go and see the Leonardo da Vinci exhibit at Gallerie dell'Accademia. While I was reluctant to go to this museum, I was very glad that I did. On display were 52 da Vinci drawings, which were nothing short of incredible! I was blown away by how detailed the drawings were, especially the ones that were 3" by 3". The precision of the the musculature sketches of both humans and horses were downright amazing. I had seen original paintings by da Vinci before but was far more impressed with these drawings.
About 1/2 a mile away was the Guggenheim. The museum, the former home of the bohemian socialite and art collector, houses an impressive collection of Modern Art including pieces by Kadinsky, Ernst, Klee, Dali and Picasso among others. One of my favorite artists was Peggy Guggenheim's daughter Pegeen Vail.
The museum is located directly on the Grand Canal- which I appear to be floating on at the right.After wandering the grounds for a bit, I bid farewell to my delightful companions, who were headed to the Jewish Ghetto. I decided to walk back to my apartment over the Accademia Bridge and shoot some photos. While the view was indeed wonderful, my favorite view remained the one from the Rialto Bridge.
It was a really long way back and with my ankles sore from all the walking I decided to stop for a late lunch/early dinner at a restaurant on a canal near Campo Santi Apostoli, just a few blocks from home.While the octopus salad looked wonderful, it tasted like it had been boiled and had a slight slimy quality to it. (Not at all like the lovely calamari salads in Portugal.)
The wine was more to my liking. I also ordered the tiramisu and decided I am not really a tiramisu person.After this disappointing meal, I was anxious to get home to upload all of my pictures and review and edit them for posting to Facebook. This is always one of the best parts of my day. I love photography and aspire to be so much better than I actually am.
I eagerly inserted the memory card into my Mac and .... it started to go crazy and try to upload already uploaded photos. I turned it off to try again and..... much to my dismay it immediately turned itself off. I tried repeatedly, but, my Mac had died.. "A Death in Venice"!
Now I had no way to communicate to anyone back home and I panicked. It became more important to have a phone that worked so I literally ran to the the Vodafone store to purchase yet another phone since I arrived here. I asked about a computer repair shop on the island and they looked at me like I had two heads! There was no such thing in Venice. Everyone goes to the mainland to do all their shopping and for service issues.
I was beside myself. I felt alone and isolated. The day that had been such a high had deteriorated beyond belief. I had no internet, no Skype, no way to watch movies and no way to communicate to my loved ones.
I cursed the information age and the technology gods and went to bed... hoping tomorrow would bring a solutions to my technological woes!
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Day Ten - The Long and Winding Road
Today was the coolest the weather has been since I arrived. It was mostly overcast and thermometer didn't reach 80 degrees. It was the perfect day for walking around and seeing more of Venice, but, all the walking was starting to take a toll on some of my ancient body parts so I decided to stay in until mid-afternoon.
At 3:45 p.m. I walked down to Fondementa Nove to catch the vaporetto for Murano. The fritto misto I had the other day was so delicious I decided to go back and have it again. Besides the setting next to the canal was beautiful.
The waterbus was there when I arrived so within 15 minutes I was in Murano. Excellent timing ... or so I thought. I quickly walked to "my restaurant" and asked to be seated. There were several open spots so the waiter seated me right on the water. I started to salivate thinking about my delicious lunch, when the waitress from my last visit came up to me and started to rattle in Italian. The only word I caught was "mi dispiace." I wondered what she was sorry about, but, then she said in English "Closed".
Noting the time I quickly looked for another open restaurant. I selected Dalla Mora which said it specialized in fish. Besides the tables had white table clothes which is always a deal closer for me. Despite the open tables on the canal, I was seated down the side of a building near a woman from England and her daughters. I was beginning to see a pattern.
Another sign that this experience might not go well- the sparking mineral water that I requested twice turned out to be a bottle of naturale that was already unscrewed. I had spotted waitstaff at another restaurant filling the empty naturale bottles with tap water and then charging 5 euros for it.
I resisted the 30 euro raw fish appetizer that was highly recommended. (I know there are no Sunday fish deliveries to restaurants and highly suspected they were pushing yesterday's fish before it went bad)
The schie (tiny lagoon shrimp) and polenta I ordered looked wonderful but, was bland and tasteless as was the heavily battered broccoli-filled fritto misto verdure (vegetables). I didn't even order any wine to make the meal seem more palatable!
After a little shopping I was ready to go home. A "lovely woman" from Florida sat next to me with her lap dog "Precious" . Yippee. There is nothing I like better than sitting next to a dog on public transportation! The woman peppered me with non-stop questions not waiting for the answers. I was beginning to think she was the Jewish reincarnation of my mother... except for that dog thing.
She told me that for years she had stayed at the renown Danieli Hotel and had become such a such good friends with the concierge (which she mispronounced) after all those years, that she was staying with his family on the Lido. Sounds to me like she either had a reversal of fortunes or the first class ticket for "Precious" put her in a bind. Because from what I hear, no one stays on the Lido if they can avoid it.
This overly made up weathered woman was 80 if she was a day and yet she began talking about her boyfriend. Hmm, Meredith is 72, perhaps I am just too young to attract a lover?
Luckily another animal enthusiast came to chat with woman and Precious" and share photos of her dog and the dog sitter that she was paying $1000 to stay in her home and dog sit. Thankfully my stop came just in time. I was back in familiar territory and home was just a few blocks away.
And then it happened- I went a few blocks and ended back up at the vaporetto stop. I had taken this road at least 10 times and never had a problem. But, for the life of me I could not find my way back. For the first time in 10 days I hit the proverbial wall as the alley I was on came to a dead end.
After some frustrating turns and backtracking, I ended up in the bowels of San Marco sestiere. Deciding to turn lemons into lemonade I headed for Gelato Fantasy for some of that amazing amarena gelato. I finally knew where I was ... but, where was the gelato store? I tried several different streets outside of San Marco but couldn't find it.
I was tired of the game of hide and seek and just wanted to go home. Unbelievably, I took another wrong turn.. and then I was out on the Grand Canal. When I looked right I saw the Rialto Bridge, but from the San Marco side this time. Since I was there I took a few pictures and took the street immediately to the right. In one block I hit the cross street which is right next to the Sephora store. A few blocks and I would be home.
I had no idea the Rialto Bridge was so close. Tomorrow I plan to get up early and hit the Rialto Market while it is still quiet to take some pictures, move onto see the inside of the San Marco Basilica for the first time and get another three day vaporetto pass... oh yes, and find that gelato store if it is the last thing I do.
The good thing about Venice is- even when you are lost something good usually comes of it. In this case I found the short cut to the Rialto Bridge and saved about 1000 calories by NOT finding the gelato store.
At 3:45 p.m. I walked down to Fondementa Nove to catch the vaporetto for Murano. The fritto misto I had the other day was so delicious I decided to go back and have it again. Besides the setting next to the canal was beautiful.
The waterbus was there when I arrived so within 15 minutes I was in Murano. Excellent timing ... or so I thought. I quickly walked to "my restaurant" and asked to be seated. There were several open spots so the waiter seated me right on the water. I started to salivate thinking about my delicious lunch, when the waitress from my last visit came up to me and started to rattle in Italian. The only word I caught was "mi dispiace." I wondered what she was sorry about, but, then she said in English "Closed".
Noting the time I quickly looked for another open restaurant. I selected Dalla Mora which said it specialized in fish. Besides the tables had white table clothes which is always a deal closer for me. Despite the open tables on the canal, I was seated down the side of a building near a woman from England and her daughters. I was beginning to see a pattern.
Another sign that this experience might not go well- the sparking mineral water that I requested twice turned out to be a bottle of naturale that was already unscrewed. I had spotted waitstaff at another restaurant filling the empty naturale bottles with tap water and then charging 5 euros for it.
I resisted the 30 euro raw fish appetizer that was highly recommended. (I know there are no Sunday fish deliveries to restaurants and highly suspected they were pushing yesterday's fish before it went bad)
The schie (tiny lagoon shrimp) and polenta I ordered looked wonderful but, was bland and tasteless as was the heavily battered broccoli-filled fritto misto verdure (vegetables). I didn't even order any wine to make the meal seem more palatable!
 |
After a little shopping I was ready to go home. A "lovely woman" from Florida sat next to me with her lap dog "Precious" . Yippee. There is nothing I like better than sitting next to a dog on public transportation! The woman peppered me with non-stop questions not waiting for the answers. I was beginning to think she was the Jewish reincarnation of my mother... except for that dog thing.
She told me that for years she had stayed at the renown Danieli Hotel and had become such a such good friends with the concierge (which she mispronounced) after all those years, that she was staying with his family on the Lido. Sounds to me like she either had a reversal of fortunes or the first class ticket for "Precious" put her in a bind. Because from what I hear, no one stays on the Lido if they can avoid it.
This overly made up weathered woman was 80 if she was a day and yet she began talking about her boyfriend. Hmm, Meredith is 72, perhaps I am just too young to attract a lover?
Luckily another animal enthusiast came to chat with woman and Precious" and share photos of her dog and the dog sitter that she was paying $1000 to stay in her home and dog sit. Thankfully my stop came just in time. I was back in familiar territory and home was just a few blocks away.
And then it happened- I went a few blocks and ended back up at the vaporetto stop. I had taken this road at least 10 times and never had a problem. But, for the life of me I could not find my way back. For the first time in 10 days I hit the proverbial wall as the alley I was on came to a dead end.
After some frustrating turns and backtracking, I ended up in the bowels of San Marco sestiere. Deciding to turn lemons into lemonade I headed for Gelato Fantasy for some of that amazing amarena gelato. I finally knew where I was ... but, where was the gelato store? I tried several different streets outside of San Marco but couldn't find it.
I was tired of the game of hide and seek and just wanted to go home. Unbelievably, I took another wrong turn.. and then I was out on the Grand Canal. When I looked right I saw the Rialto Bridge, but from the San Marco side this time. Since I was there I took a few pictures and took the street immediately to the right. In one block I hit the cross street which is right next to the Sephora store. A few blocks and I would be home.
I had no idea the Rialto Bridge was so close. Tomorrow I plan to get up early and hit the Rialto Market while it is still quiet to take some pictures, move onto see the inside of the San Marco Basilica for the first time and get another three day vaporetto pass... oh yes, and find that gelato store if it is the last thing I do.
The good thing about Venice is- even when you are lost something good usually comes of it. In this case I found the short cut to the Rialto Bridge and saved about 1000 calories by NOT finding the gelato store.
Day Nine - The Challenges of Solo Travel
My time here in Venice will soon becoming to an end so it is probably natural that my conversation with Meredith would be on my mind. Meredith, is the Californian I met while having dinner the night before.
As a female traveler, Meredith usually joins some kind of tour when she travels alone. She was quite impressed that I usually travel alone and have never travelled with a tour group. Not only am I not a joiner, but, tours are too regimented and too expensive for me to ever really consider. They simply do not fit my travel style nor my pocketbook.
Meredith, on the other hand likes the social aspect of tours and the worry free traveling. However, even when joining different types of tours around the world she still has a random day here and there alone. Over dinner we talked about the challenges of being a female solo traveler.
We spoke of the occasional loneliness of being alone in a foreign country where you do not speak the language. Communication can be quite challenging if you move out of the city center where most locals speak at least a little English.
We talked about transportation challenges in any country and learning their public transportation systems. We both found the vaporetto system here in Venice confusing. She had taken the vaporetto in the wrong direction twice in her two and a half days here.
In a previous blog I talked about being frightened of taking the vaporetto and how I had viewed a you tube video to give me more confidence. This was only one of my Venetian fears. For all of my bravado about traveling alone there is a laundry list of challenges that I face.
The ones I have faced in Venice may seem silly... silly that is unless you travel alone. I think my concern is offending the locals with some silly gaffe that most tourists make. So generally, I avoid all these challenges.
This trip I decided to list all my challenges and pick them off one at a time. Besides the vaporetto, there was the caffe fear, the ombra and cichetti fear, the eating dinner out fear, the alla Vedova fear.
It literally took me 9 days to get the courage to enter a caffe bar and order a caffe latte and stand at the bar and drink it. I feel very fortunate that for some reason I didn't go through caffeine withdrawal. I am assuming it had something to do with the prosecco levels in my blood at any given moment.
It was day 6 that I finally broached a recommended restaurant at lunchtime and made a dinner reservation for day 8.
Last night I picked off another of my challenges. I stopped at a cicchetti bar that I had walked by for 9 days and ordered an after dinner ombra (short shot of wine) and a polpette (a breaded meatball).
The only challenge left on my list is to eat some polpette at the renown Alla Vedova Trattoria. Apparently they have the best polpette in Venice. It took me three days to even find this place in the warren-like alleys of Cannaregio and there was a line out the door. The staff is said to be rude to tourists, which makes this challenge even more intimidating. I have given myself until Wednesday to get this done.
So what have I learned from facing my fears and overcoming my challenges on this trip? The vaporettos are standing room only and painfully noisy and slow. Italian caffe lattes are lukewarm at best. I miss Starbucks. You need reservations at most restaurants if you are a tourists and locals get the best seats and sometimes even a different menu. And, the El Sabarlefo cicchetti bar make lousy meatballs.
But, most importantly I have learned to overcome my small fears before they become big and immobilizing. I learned that I make Shelly Morgan a stronger person because I am afraid of letting weakness get the best of me. Sometimes it is hard to be me... But, on days like today I feel invincible.
As a female traveler, Meredith usually joins some kind of tour when she travels alone. She was quite impressed that I usually travel alone and have never travelled with a tour group. Not only am I not a joiner, but, tours are too regimented and too expensive for me to ever really consider. They simply do not fit my travel style nor my pocketbook.
Meredith, on the other hand likes the social aspect of tours and the worry free traveling. However, even when joining different types of tours around the world she still has a random day here and there alone. Over dinner we talked about the challenges of being a female solo traveler.
We spoke of the occasional loneliness of being alone in a foreign country where you do not speak the language. Communication can be quite challenging if you move out of the city center where most locals speak at least a little English.
We talked about transportation challenges in any country and learning their public transportation systems. We both found the vaporetto system here in Venice confusing. She had taken the vaporetto in the wrong direction twice in her two and a half days here.
In a previous blog I talked about being frightened of taking the vaporetto and how I had viewed a you tube video to give me more confidence. This was only one of my Venetian fears. For all of my bravado about traveling alone there is a laundry list of challenges that I face.
The ones I have faced in Venice may seem silly... silly that is unless you travel alone. I think my concern is offending the locals with some silly gaffe that most tourists make. So generally, I avoid all these challenges.
This trip I decided to list all my challenges and pick them off one at a time. Besides the vaporetto, there was the caffe fear, the ombra and cichetti fear, the eating dinner out fear, the alla Vedova fear.
It literally took me 9 days to get the courage to enter a caffe bar and order a caffe latte and stand at the bar and drink it. I feel very fortunate that for some reason I didn't go through caffeine withdrawal. I am assuming it had something to do with the prosecco levels in my blood at any given moment.
It was day 6 that I finally broached a recommended restaurant at lunchtime and made a dinner reservation for day 8.
Last night I picked off another of my challenges. I stopped at a cicchetti bar that I had walked by for 9 days and ordered an after dinner ombra (short shot of wine) and a polpette (a breaded meatball).
The only challenge left on my list is to eat some polpette at the renown Alla Vedova Trattoria. Apparently they have the best polpette in Venice. It took me three days to even find this place in the warren-like alleys of Cannaregio and there was a line out the door. The staff is said to be rude to tourists, which makes this challenge even more intimidating. I have given myself until Wednesday to get this done.
So what have I learned from facing my fears and overcoming my challenges on this trip? The vaporettos are standing room only and painfully noisy and slow. Italian caffe lattes are lukewarm at best. I miss Starbucks. You need reservations at most restaurants if you are a tourists and locals get the best seats and sometimes even a different menu. And, the El Sabarlefo cicchetti bar make lousy meatballs.
But, most importantly I have learned to overcome my small fears before they become big and immobilizing. I learned that I make Shelly Morgan a stronger person because I am afraid of letting weakness get the best of me. Sometimes it is hard to be me... But, on days like today I feel invincible.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Day Eight - I'm Walking on Sunshine
I promised myself that today was the day I would get up early so that I could taking some photos of Piazza San Marco in the early morning light. I jumped out of bed a little behind schedule and with my hair still wet and no makeup covering my angry-red mosquito bitten face, I headed to the square.
I decided to take two cameras since I only brought the zoom lens for my Nikon. There must be something about having two cameras hanging around your neck that either make you look like a geek.. or a photographer, because people tried to stay out of the way of my shots. Or, perhaps, it was my wet hair and scary red dotted pre-pubescent looking face that just plain scared them.
I loved the serenity of the piazza and the Grand Canal without the intrusion of the hordes of tourists. It was almost like having the whole place to myself. The few people that were there were mostly photo enthusiasts and people with young children. I love photographing people - especially young children and old people.
So I walked around shooting little kids whose parents for some odd reason, wanted to take their own photos of their progeny playing with dirty, filthy pigeons. Letting these sky rats cover one's body for fun is beyond my wildest comprehension - to say nothing of unsanitary.
I wandered all around the San Marco area was able to capture some nice shots ...especially of one of my favorite Venetian subjects ...gondoliers and their gondolas.
After a couple of hours I headed home and spotted the best gelato place in Venice. It was open and even though it was 9:30 a.m. and I hadn't even had coffee yet, I treated myself to three scoops of the best gelato I have ever tasted.
It reminded me of a poem that starts, "When I am an old woman I shall wear purple." The old woman does all these outrageous things because she is old and still can. Eating pre coffee gelato was me "wearing purple." As I posted on my Facebook page, "There are no rules when traveling".
I had 7 p.m. reservations at a neighborhood restaurant that had been recommended by the apartment greeter. I found it interesting however, that the only tables that had reserved signs on them were for Italians, the rest of us were seated on a first- come- first- served basis.
I waited 20 minutes for the waiter to take my drink order. He was too busy fawning over the table of cigarette smoking locals to pay me any heed. As first their prosecco, and then two types of bottled water, and then dinner wines appeared, I started to worry they would have their entire meal while I was at the next table dying of thirst.
I finally ordered my 1/2 liter of prosecco, bottled water, appetizer and entree all at one time to assure I would be able to both eat and drink. Meanwhile a lovely woman who appeared to be in her 70's was seated at the table next to me. When I heard her speaking to the waiter with an American accent, I said in my outside voice rather than inside my head, "Oh good, you speak English!"
Meredith lives in Newport Beach, CA and loves to travel. Since her husband's Parkinson's Disease is progressing at a rapid rate, he is no longer able to travel. As the solo caretaker she annually takes a 2 -3 week traveling vacation as a caretaking respite and for some much needed "me time".
At 72, Meredith is fascinating and has traveled everywhere. She had just spent three days hiking in the Dolomites, and was headed to Barcelona to join a Rick Steves tour and continue onto Madrid. She encouraged me to go to South America especially Buenos Aires, Argentina which she said was just like Europe, but, cheaper. She regaled me with stories of her three husbands and said she was looking to take a lover on this trip (she had her eye on an OB-GYN on her hiking trip but, feared he might be gay) Her pragmatic husband told her to go and have good time but, made her promise not to fall in love. Now THIS is a woman who is wearing purple!
I spent several delightful hours drinking wine and chatting with this intriguing woman who suggested that I never marry again but, just take a string of lovers. She said, "You are a beautiful woman and there must be plenty of Italian men here that you could take as a lover. You just need to look and look for younger ones too!"
All too soon, it was time for us to leave. She to do some last minute nighttime sightseeing and me to look for a lover... one that was extremely drawn to large red mosquito welts. Feeling euphoric I hummed the song "Walking on Sunshine" as I slowly walked home, looking everywhere for my lover... but,sadly... I did not find him.
I decided to take two cameras since I only brought the zoom lens for my Nikon. There must be something about having two cameras hanging around your neck that either make you look like a geek.. or a photographer, because people tried to stay out of the way of my shots. Or, perhaps, it was my wet hair and scary red dotted pre-pubescent looking face that just plain scared them.
I loved the serenity of the piazza and the Grand Canal without the intrusion of the hordes of tourists. It was almost like having the whole place to myself. The few people that were there were mostly photo enthusiasts and people with young children. I love photographing people - especially young children and old people.
So I walked around shooting little kids whose parents for some odd reason, wanted to take their own photos of their progeny playing with dirty, filthy pigeons. Letting these sky rats cover one's body for fun is beyond my wildest comprehension - to say nothing of unsanitary.
I wandered all around the San Marco area was able to capture some nice shots ...especially of one of my favorite Venetian subjects ...gondoliers and their gondolas.
It reminded me of a poem that starts, "When I am an old woman I shall wear purple." The old woman does all these outrageous things because she is old and still can. Eating pre coffee gelato was me "wearing purple." As I posted on my Facebook page, "There are no rules when traveling".
I had 7 p.m. reservations at a neighborhood restaurant that had been recommended by the apartment greeter. I found it interesting however, that the only tables that had reserved signs on them were for Italians, the rest of us were seated on a first- come- first- served basis.
I waited 20 minutes for the waiter to take my drink order. He was too busy fawning over the table of cigarette smoking locals to pay me any heed. As first their prosecco, and then two types of bottled water, and then dinner wines appeared, I started to worry they would have their entire meal while I was at the next table dying of thirst.
I finally ordered my 1/2 liter of prosecco, bottled water, appetizer and entree all at one time to assure I would be able to both eat and drink. Meanwhile a lovely woman who appeared to be in her 70's was seated at the table next to me. When I heard her speaking to the waiter with an American accent, I said in my outside voice rather than inside my head, "Oh good, you speak English!"
Meredith lives in Newport Beach, CA and loves to travel. Since her husband's Parkinson's Disease is progressing at a rapid rate, he is no longer able to travel. As the solo caretaker she annually takes a 2 -3 week traveling vacation as a caretaking respite and for some much needed "me time".
At 72, Meredith is fascinating and has traveled everywhere. She had just spent three days hiking in the Dolomites, and was headed to Barcelona to join a Rick Steves tour and continue onto Madrid. She encouraged me to go to South America especially Buenos Aires, Argentina which she said was just like Europe, but, cheaper. She regaled me with stories of her three husbands and said she was looking to take a lover on this trip (she had her eye on an OB-GYN on her hiking trip but, feared he might be gay) Her pragmatic husband told her to go and have good time but, made her promise not to fall in love. Now THIS is a woman who is wearing purple!
I spent several delightful hours drinking wine and chatting with this intriguing woman who suggested that I never marry again but, just take a string of lovers. She said, "You are a beautiful woman and there must be plenty of Italian men here that you could take as a lover. You just need to look and look for younger ones too!"
All too soon, it was time for us to leave. She to do some last minute nighttime sightseeing and me to look for a lover... one that was extremely drawn to large red mosquito welts. Feeling euphoric I hummed the song "Walking on Sunshine" as I slowly walked home, looking everywhere for my lover... but,sadly... I did not find him.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Day Seven - A Three Hour Tour? Try Six!
After barely 4 hours of sleep I decided to take the lazy man's approach to sightseeing.... the boat. I really was just going to use the vaporetto to get from the nearest water bus stop, the Ca D'Oro stop, to go to the island of Giudecca. Since I purchased the 7 day unlimited vaporetto pass, I could use it all day long for seven days. Today was day 3 and I thought I would really get my money's worth.
So after hopping on the #1 vaparetto that makes all the stops up and down the Grand Canal, I rode it to the train station to transfer to the water bus that would take me to Guidecca. My plan was to walk around and stop somewhere on the water for lunch then return home.
There is a good reason most locals walk rather than take the vaporettos... they are VERY slow and usually overcrowded with standing room only.
As the vaporetto began its laborious trip through the lagoon, I saw parts of the area that I had never seem before... and am perfectly okay with not ever seeing again. I guess I was surprised that not everything in the lagoon looks like a painting or postcard. The Mestre stop looks very industrial and I see no reason to explore the area. If I wanted to see industrial areas I would have stayed in Oakland CA.
It what seemed like three hours but, was probably only one and a half the vaporetto stopped at the first Guidecca stop. I looked at the surroundings and decided to hold out for a more picturesque setting. Stops 2 and 3 proved no different, so I decided Guidecca probably wasn't going to be my luncheon destination. I just couldn't understand where all the pretty restaurants in the guide had gone.
The vaporetto lurched it way to the next few stops before getting to it's final destination- Piazza San Marco. In order to escape the crowds I decided to go to a different landing and take the vaporetto around the other side of the island to the Fondemente Nove stop near my home. I seriously had no idea it would again take so long. And again, this side of Venice would never make it into travel photo books or you tube videos. I humored myself by looking at the water and trying to figure out how to use the HD video-cam part of my camera.
Apparently getting my sea legs or perhaps trying to break the seafaring record for continuous hours on water, I decided to forgo my stop and continue on to Murano. After all, it was only 2:30 and I had started at 11:30 a.m.
So onward to Murano I forged feeling a little like a modern day Gilligan.
About 20 minutes later we started to approach the Murano stops. Feeling like an old sea dog after all this time on the water I opted for the last stop... Murano Faro.
Murano Island is famous for their glass factories where the artisans craft exquisite and expensive Murano glass from which everything from $25K chandeliers to jewelry are created. It is picturesque, but not quite as colorful as vibrant Burano... but, more importantly Murano has a few shade trees from which to escape the unabating sun and heat.
I wandered to a factory door and watched a glassblower perfect his craft by breathing life into what would soon be a beautiful Murano glass vase. I continued looking for a place to have an early dinner and ended up at the main canal. It is very charming.
I spied a canalside restaurant that had tables covered with white tablecloths. I took that as a promising sign and the menu confirmed this was not a lousy pizza joint that had pizza, burgers and other touristy foods. After perusing the menu I decided to order the fritto misto and a glass of prosecco.
Well I was delighted that the deep fried fish (calamari, shrimp, schie and sardines) were tasty and the coating was light and perfect. I finished off the meal with an expresso.
I did some window shopping and scouted some gift ideas to bring back with me. I also took over 100 pictures on this tiny island!
At 5:30 p.m, tired out from being on the open seas all day, I walked to the water bus stop to take the first vaporetto back to Venice... and to research how many open sea hours one one needs to complete to be certified as a sailor!
So after hopping on the #1 vaparetto that makes all the stops up and down the Grand Canal, I rode it to the train station to transfer to the water bus that would take me to Guidecca. My plan was to walk around and stop somewhere on the water for lunch then return home.
There is a good reason most locals walk rather than take the vaporettos... they are VERY slow and usually overcrowded with standing room only.
As the vaporetto began its laborious trip through the lagoon, I saw parts of the area that I had never seem before... and am perfectly okay with not ever seeing again. I guess I was surprised that not everything in the lagoon looks like a painting or postcard. The Mestre stop looks very industrial and I see no reason to explore the area. If I wanted to see industrial areas I would have stayed in Oakland CA.
It what seemed like three hours but, was probably only one and a half the vaporetto stopped at the first Guidecca stop. I looked at the surroundings and decided to hold out for a more picturesque setting. Stops 2 and 3 proved no different, so I decided Guidecca probably wasn't going to be my luncheon destination. I just couldn't understand where all the pretty restaurants in the guide had gone.
The vaporetto lurched it way to the next few stops before getting to it's final destination- Piazza San Marco. In order to escape the crowds I decided to go to a different landing and take the vaporetto around the other side of the island to the Fondemente Nove stop near my home. I seriously had no idea it would again take so long. And again, this side of Venice would never make it into travel photo books or you tube videos. I humored myself by looking at the water and trying to figure out how to use the HD video-cam part of my camera.
Apparently getting my sea legs or perhaps trying to break the seafaring record for continuous hours on water, I decided to forgo my stop and continue on to Murano. After all, it was only 2:30 and I had started at 11:30 a.m.
So onward to Murano I forged feeling a little like a modern day Gilligan.
Murano Island is famous for their glass factories where the artisans craft exquisite and expensive Murano glass from which everything from $25K chandeliers to jewelry are created. It is picturesque, but not quite as colorful as vibrant Burano... but, more importantly Murano has a few shade trees from which to escape the unabating sun and heat.
I wandered to a factory door and watched a glassblower perfect his craft by breathing life into what would soon be a beautiful Murano glass vase. I continued looking for a place to have an early dinner and ended up at the main canal. It is very charming.
I spied a canalside restaurant that had tables covered with white tablecloths. I took that as a promising sign and the menu confirmed this was not a lousy pizza joint that had pizza, burgers and other touristy foods. After perusing the menu I decided to order the fritto misto and a glass of prosecco.
Well I was delighted that the deep fried fish (calamari, shrimp, schie and sardines) were tasty and the coating was light and perfect. I finished off the meal with an expresso.
I did some window shopping and scouted some gift ideas to bring back with me. I also took over 100 pictures on this tiny island!
At 5:30 p.m, tired out from being on the open seas all day, I walked to the water bus stop to take the first vaporetto back to Venice... and to research how many open sea hours one one needs to complete to be certified as a sailor!
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Day Six - Learning the Locals' Secrets
I ran into the greeter, Tota Fraino, on Tuesday and chatted about how much I loved Venice except for the mosquitoes and the horrendous throngs of tourists. I asked her, being a full time resident, how she dealt with the crowds. She smiled a knowing smile and said, "We locals know the secrets".
I must have warranted some special trust because she gave me a conspiratorial smile and explained that the locals knew all the backstreets and alley to take to get them to their destination without accessing any of the crowded main roads.
In a whispered voice Tota told me about two in particular. One of these secret roads was in back of the Misericordia Canal; the other, directly in front of us was a maze of narrow alleys, where one could reach Piazza San Marco in peace and quiet and see a lot of locals living their daily Venetian life.
So around noon on Wednesday, I busted out my heavy Nikon for the first time and headed down the secret path to San Marco. To my amazement, I didn't come across a soul for several minutes as I wended my way through the warren-like roads. Soon I came across a small campo where a mother sat on a chair watching her children at play. They were the only ones there. It was a lovely sight and I stealthily captured a picture.
I came across small florist shops, trattorias, patisseries all of which served the locals. I did wonder fleetingly where THEIR barrel wine shop was. I seemed to be the only tourist intruding on their idyllic secret. Some of them looked as I snapped photo after photo. No one said a word, but, they all looked relieved when I moved on.
A little later, I came across a little mask shop with these wonderfully elaborate handmade masks. Venetians definitely take Carnevale seriously. I have wondered more than once how the island can sustain so many handmade mask and costume stores... especially for an event that comes only one a year.
I crossed lovely canals and was able to get some wonderful closeup shots on gondolas and gondoliers that had eluded me on previous sightseeing excursions. When I saw the huge dome of a church and increasing volumes of tourists, I knew I was rapidly approaching St Mark's. My respite was over far too soon.
On my way back I found the famed Gelato Fantasy, and considered stopping. Ultimately, I decided against stopping and waiting in the crowded alley but, vowed to come back one day after the daytrippers return to their cruise ships.
I made a quick stop at Sephora for some "essentials" which made wish that I had one back in Nashville that I could walk to in a little over 5 minutes!
Now that I know the secret, I will be visiting Piazza San Marco more often without having to suffer the fatiguing crowds. I love these quiet parts of Venice and whenever I spend time here, I know I could live here forever.
Day Five - Color Me Happy
There are many things that make me happy, but, among them are vibrant colors and amazing photo opportunities. Put these two together and it describes my idea of pure bliss. Burano Island, in the Venetian lagoon, for me is pure bliss.
While planning my trip to Venice, I watched endless videos on Venice and in particular those on Burano. I loved the vibrant colors and the story that tells why they are painted in this manner. Folklore says that the fishermens' wives painted their houses in these brilliant colors so their men could easily identify their houses as soon as they entered the lagoon. Today, the colors of each house is still mandated and each house must be repainted the same color.
In order to get to Burano, I had to challenge myself to make the trip. Whenever I travel I always find using public transportation daunting at first. (At this point I am going to openly cop to the fact that I actually watched a 60 second you tube video about scanning the pass and boarding the boat.) So at Fondamente Nove I confidently scanned my pass and boarded the vaporetto for Burano.
Nothing prepared me for the quaintness of this idyllic island. Just being there among the colors and the quaint architecture made me HAPPY! I defy anyone to go to Burano and feel differently. I walked around and snapped photos to my heart's content. Beautiful shops full of expensive handmade Venetian lace - (and sometimes inexpensive items made in China), colorful houses, boats, canals.. a real photographer's dream.
Eventually, thirst and hunger got the best of me and I started to look for a place to eat. I settled on a lovely canalside restaurant called Riva Rosa.
The interior was as charming as the outside and the menu looked wonderful.
I quickly settled on the Go Risotto. Go is a tiny fish native to the Venetian Lagoon. This flavorful fish is very delicate and must be barely simmered lest the fish fall apart and impart a bitter taste to the broth. It literally was the most delicious risotto I had ever had. I had two glasses of a refreshing pinot blanc and a decadent chocolate tart to complete my meal. The service was very attentive and I felt very pampered.
The only oddity was the one door that that said "Toilette" that both men and women entered, but, for some unknown reason no one ever seemed to exit. It was kind of like the bathroom version of the "clown car" that EVERYONE entered... more than it seemed it could possibly hold.
After the satisfying lunch I took a few more photos and then headed to the nearby vaporetto station to go back to Venice. While I did watch some Rosetta Stone Italian DVDs and listen to Auto Italian CDs, I, by no means, know more than a few words to get me by. That's why I found it funny that someone so unnerved by the vaporetto system suddenly became the guide for both Italian and French tourists seeking counsel on the correct vaporetto to take. I assisted the travelers but laughed to myself that someone who watched a you tube video was suddenly a vaporetto route expert ... and in multi languages at that!
After debarking I headed home and met a distraught older German woman who was lost and looking for the Ferrovia train station (yes the one from yesterday's tale of horror). While I speak not a word of German and she spoke not a word of English the sounds of "choo choo, chug a chug a" seem to transcend all languages. I walked with the woman to the main drag and then about a half a mile more to make sure she was headed in the right direction.
Satisfied that I had done my good deed for the day I headed for the nearest outdoor cafe to try my first "spritz aperol" followed by a "spritz campari". Seriously, who would try one type of spritz and not the other?
While drinking my spritz a local mime dressed as Oliver Hardy tried desperately to "pick me up" and in my spritz induced state, I couldn't decide ... if it was a good thing or bad! I guess I could have held out for the Stan Laurel mime...
Heading home, I decided that indeed it was my most colorful and happiest day in Venice. I really almost felt like I belonged...
While planning my trip to Venice, I watched endless videos on Venice and in particular those on Burano. I loved the vibrant colors and the story that tells why they are painted in this manner. Folklore says that the fishermens' wives painted their houses in these brilliant colors so their men could easily identify their houses as soon as they entered the lagoon. Today, the colors of each house is still mandated and each house must be repainted the same color.
In order to get to Burano, I had to challenge myself to make the trip. Whenever I travel I always find using public transportation daunting at first. (At this point I am going to openly cop to the fact that I actually watched a 60 second you tube video about scanning the pass and boarding the boat.) So at Fondamente Nove I confidently scanned my pass and boarded the vaporetto for Burano.
Nothing prepared me for the quaintness of this idyllic island. Just being there among the colors and the quaint architecture made me HAPPY! I defy anyone to go to Burano and feel differently. I walked around and snapped photos to my heart's content. Beautiful shops full of expensive handmade Venetian lace - (and sometimes inexpensive items made in China), colorful houses, boats, canals.. a real photographer's dream.
Eventually, thirst and hunger got the best of me and I started to look for a place to eat. I settled on a lovely canalside restaurant called Riva Rosa.
The interior was as charming as the outside and the menu looked wonderful.
I quickly settled on the Go Risotto. Go is a tiny fish native to the Venetian Lagoon. This flavorful fish is very delicate and must be barely simmered lest the fish fall apart and impart a bitter taste to the broth. It literally was the most delicious risotto I had ever had. I had two glasses of a refreshing pinot blanc and a decadent chocolate tart to complete my meal. The service was very attentive and I felt very pampered.
After the satisfying lunch I took a few more photos and then headed to the nearby vaporetto station to go back to Venice. While I did watch some Rosetta Stone Italian DVDs and listen to Auto Italian CDs, I, by no means, know more than a few words to get me by. That's why I found it funny that someone so unnerved by the vaporetto system suddenly became the guide for both Italian and French tourists seeking counsel on the correct vaporetto to take. I assisted the travelers but laughed to myself that someone who watched a you tube video was suddenly a vaporetto route expert ... and in multi languages at that!
After debarking I headed home and met a distraught older German woman who was lost and looking for the Ferrovia train station (yes the one from yesterday's tale of horror). While I speak not a word of German and she spoke not a word of English the sounds of "choo choo, chug a chug a" seem to transcend all languages. I walked with the woman to the main drag and then about a half a mile more to make sure she was headed in the right direction.
Satisfied that I had done my good deed for the day I headed for the nearest outdoor cafe to try my first "spritz aperol" followed by a "spritz campari". Seriously, who would try one type of spritz and not the other?
While drinking my spritz a local mime dressed as Oliver Hardy tried desperately to "pick me up" and in my spritz induced state, I couldn't decide ... if it was a good thing or bad! I guess I could have held out for the Stan Laurel mime...
Heading home, I decided that indeed it was my most colorful and happiest day in Venice. I really almost felt like I belonged...
Day Four - These Feet are Made for Walking... Just Not This Far!
I woke early because it is delivery day at the nearby store and they deliver all the groceries outside my window and then cart them in on dollies. Not a quiet process.
Against my better judgement, I decided to go to Piazza San Marco again. It was about 11:00 a.m. and prime time for the day trippers from dozens of humongous cruise ships to descend upon the square. Getting there was not for the faint of heart, but, the square - since it is HUGE - seemed not so crowded.
I spent a glorious morning taking photos of the piazza, the Bridge of Sighs, the Grand Canal , the endless gondolas and the famous Santa Maria della Salute across the canal. I don't think I could ever tire of this site. The gondolas stationed at the foot of San Marco are black, and are decorated in bright royal blues and scarlet reds and against the backdrop of the aqua waters of the Grand Canal are really breathtaking. What an amazing photographic experience this day was turning out to be.
On my way back I decided to cross over the Grand Canal via the La Accademia Bridge. My plan was to see what the other side of the canal looked like and then cross back. Well, they say that everyone gets lost in Venice and I guess it was my turn. While not exactly lost, I followed the signs to the Rialto Bridge, I had absolutely no idea where I was. I walked and walked for miles following the signs for Rialto. I saw lovely canals and lots of wonderful campos. And still I walked.
Finally I reached the Rialto Bridge and somehow, I ended up in San Polo.. so I guess I didn't cross La Accademia Bridge! I literally felt like I was in the bowels on San Polo. There was nothing but graffiti covered narrow alleys punctuated by open Campos or Campiellos. These alleys literally made up a warren of shops, one after the other with the occasional bar, and trattoria thrown in for good measure.
I started to follow the signs to Piazzele Roma hoping to get back to Cannaregio and on the way went through sestiere Santa Croce, which seemed in my weary state to be more of the same... and still I trudged onward. Finally I came to a bridge that indicated that Ferrovia was just on the other side. However, when I got to the other side I saw CARS.
Even as a fledgling Venetian I knew that cars and even bicycles (or biciclettas in Italian) are verboten in Venice. After circling the bus station several times I eventually gave up and cursed my ancestor Prince Henry the Navigator for my inferior navigational skills. I decided to grab some water from the snack bar a tree covered knoll. The lovely Italian lady operating the bar understood my meager italian and 1.30 euro and I had my piccolo agua naturale in hand. In response to my "Dove e Cannaregio?" she pointed to another bridge about 100 yards away and sent me off with a smile.
Cresting the bridge I saw things that looked familiar: the train station, the Hellovenizia center where I had purchased my vaporetto pass, and yes even the dreaded Lista di Spagna.
Four hours after the start of my journey, I was home in Cannaregio, where suddenly these tourists didn't seem as bad. I walked among "my people" until I reached my little apartment, where I rested my very weary bones ... and my tired feet!
Against my better judgement, I decided to go to Piazza San Marco again. It was about 11:00 a.m. and prime time for the day trippers from dozens of humongous cruise ships to descend upon the square. Getting there was not for the faint of heart, but, the square - since it is HUGE - seemed not so crowded.
I spent a glorious morning taking photos of the piazza, the Bridge of Sighs, the Grand Canal , the endless gondolas and the famous Santa Maria della Salute across the canal. I don't think I could ever tire of this site. The gondolas stationed at the foot of San Marco are black, and are decorated in bright royal blues and scarlet reds and against the backdrop of the aqua waters of the Grand Canal are really breathtaking. What an amazing photographic experience this day was turning out to be.
On my way back I decided to cross over the Grand Canal via the La Accademia Bridge. My plan was to see what the other side of the canal looked like and then cross back. Well, they say that everyone gets lost in Venice and I guess it was my turn. While not exactly lost, I followed the signs to the Rialto Bridge, I had absolutely no idea where I was. I walked and walked for miles following the signs for Rialto. I saw lovely canals and lots of wonderful campos. And still I walked.
Finally I reached the Rialto Bridge and somehow, I ended up in San Polo.. so I guess I didn't cross La Accademia Bridge! I literally felt like I was in the bowels on San Polo. There was nothing but graffiti covered narrow alleys punctuated by open Campos or Campiellos. These alleys literally made up a warren of shops, one after the other with the occasional bar, and trattoria thrown in for good measure.
I started to follow the signs to Piazzele Roma hoping to get back to Cannaregio and on the way went through sestiere Santa Croce, which seemed in my weary state to be more of the same... and still I trudged onward. Finally I came to a bridge that indicated that Ferrovia was just on the other side. However, when I got to the other side I saw CARS.
Even as a fledgling Venetian I knew that cars and even bicycles (or biciclettas in Italian) are verboten in Venice. After circling the bus station several times I eventually gave up and cursed my ancestor Prince Henry the Navigator for my inferior navigational skills. I decided to grab some water from the snack bar a tree covered knoll. The lovely Italian lady operating the bar understood my meager italian and 1.30 euro and I had my piccolo agua naturale in hand. In response to my "Dove e Cannaregio?" she pointed to another bridge about 100 yards away and sent me off with a smile.
Cresting the bridge I saw things that looked familiar: the train station, the Hellovenizia center where I had purchased my vaporetto pass, and yes even the dreaded Lista di Spagna.
Four hours after the start of my journey, I was home in Cannaregio, where suddenly these tourists didn't seem as bad. I walked among "my people" until I reached my little apartment, where I rested my very weary bones ... and my tired feet!
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Day Three - Checking Out the Nooks and Crannies
Sunday was slightly overcast and a great day to try to get out of the heat and search for some of the places I had read about online. Armed with my camera and a new found energy, I headed out in search of some of the out of the way areas of Cannaregio.
In particular I wanted to see if I could find the Misericordia Canal. It was nestled in a quiet area of Cannaregio and it is supposed to be laden with dining out options. Knowing it was slightly north of where I was staying, I headed back up the main street, Strada Nuova, in search of a little peace and quiet. On a hunch I headed up the Fondamente San Felice. Fondamentes are streets that line the canal. This canal had such beautiful sites it almost made my heart hurt.
In particular I wanted to see if I could find the Misericordia Canal. It was nestled in a quiet area of Cannaregio and it is supposed to be laden with dining out options. Knowing it was slightly north of where I was staying, I headed back up the main street, Strada Nuova, in search of a little peace and quiet. On a hunch I headed up the Fondamente San Felice. Fondamentes are streets that line the canal. This canal had such beautiful sites it almost made my heart hurt.
This is one of my favorites pictures on that canal.
Soon I reached the Misericordia Canal, and it too, was everything I had hoped for. There were only locals and myself strolling the street at a "Sunday driver's" pace. I felt like a kid in a candy store and stopped to take photos every so many feet. This was the Venice I had heard about and long to see - not the graffiti covered alleys of nonstop shops selling trashy, made in China Venetian masks.
I meandered farther and farther into the bowels of Cannaregio and crossed the Cannaregio Canal, second in size to only the Grand Canal. I am surprised that my camera could keep up with all the clicking as I shot picture after picture of this breathtaking area of Venice.
After several hours I ended up at Piazzale Roma, at the very northern end of the Grand Canal where all the ferries from the mainland dock to debark passengers. From there travelers transfer to vaporettos which stop at dozens of Venetian landings. Since I was here I decided to purchase a 7 day vaporetto pass to save my legs and put my derriere to better use. I would also use this pass to travel to all the nearby islands in the lagoon.
I had seen Lista di Spagna on a map and in several articles about how it was the connecting street between Piazzale Roma and Ferrovia to the Cannaregio neighborhood, but, nothing prepared me for the cattle drive herding hordes of tourists down the tiny alley. If ever there was a time for a panic attack.. this was it.
Overheated and feeling the crush of humankind dampening my spirits, I was elated to suddenly see the familiar landmarks of Strada Nuova. Funny how one experience can make another one seem so much better by comparison. Never again would I complain about the crowds on the main street of my area for comparatively speaking they are not that bad. At least I won't complain... until tomorrow.
Monday, September 2, 2013
Day Two - Sensory Overload Prevails...
I awakened at 7 a.m. but, wisely decided to return to sleep. I have never experienced jet lag before but, I definitely have it this time. A little more rested I left the apartment at 10 a.m and decided to follow the crowds in the other direction this time.
I guess I was not entirely surprised to see just as many tourists in this direction as well. I could tell they were tourists, even though many spoke Italian, because each and every one of them would come to a sudden grinding stop in the middle of the narrow, winding alleys to: a) stop to talk to each other as though incapable of both speech and movement at the same time b) have a family pow wow to discuss lunch or further sightseeing plans in the middle of every intersection or photo opportunity c) focus on whatever bauble they spied in the store window which had rendered them incapable of forward motion.
As a tourist, I can honestly see why Venetians despise tourists. The locals have places to go and people to see, and jobs to go to all of which are hindered by tourists with low self monitoring skills. All of this abominable touristic behavior did nothing to lessen my irrational hatred of crowds. Quite to the contrary, I now find my hatred all the more rational. Apparently this is a family trait, as Deidre cannot step foot in overcrowded Chinatown anywhere without breaking into a sweat.
I was relieved to find out that all of this backbiting (for indeed, with all the sudden stops by those ahead of me had me unwittingly biting more than one backside and stepping on more than a few heels), through the alleys ended up in ... Piazza San Marco.
San Marco is vast and impressive from it sheer size alone. I was disappointed to find the front of the basilica swathed in tarps and girded with scaffolding. I guess they have to do maintenance and my two week visit is as good a time as any.
I pulled out my camera and took my first shot... or tried to. My camera stuck with the lens half way extended and was rendered incapable of moving one way or the other (not unlike the tourists!). Worried that lightening would strike me down in this holy place, I nonetheless, swore like a truck driver. Not only was the camera broken... but, I had walked all that way to find out. I thought it might be the battery and put in the spare, but, against all hope, nothing happened.
Swearing under my breath the whole way home, I was at least thankful that I had brought three cameras and now had two left. I vowed to always carry a spare. Disheartened I went back to the apartment, plugged the batteries into the battery charger (just in case) and laid on my bed for several more hours of dreamless sleep.
Still jet lagged and exhausted by trekking to and from San Marco in record time, I decided to just pick something up at the grocery for dinner. I had made the big mistake of going to the CoOp around the corner the day before. I stood in line for 30 minutes for 2 bottles of water (yes the ones I would immediately empty and fill with barrel wine from the store directly across the street.) The clerks actually sit and check and you do all the work. Interesting. They must not be familiar with the Lucky Stores mantra of "Three's a Crowd".
The Billa grocery is about a mile away, but, I preferred the trek on my sore and stiff legs to the alternative. I picked up some salami, cheese and rolls and some pizza squares (to go with the whole takeaway pizza I purchased the day before at the very authentic Pizza Kebob store in nearby Campo Santi Apostoli).
Once home, I did what has become my Venice routine. As the bells throughout Venice chime Angelis at 6 p.m. I head to my terrace with my bottle of barrel prosecco and my Mac Air and write a post on this blog.
It turned out to be a great day. With a fully charged battery, the camera is now fully functional and all the pics I took before the Great Venetian Camera Caper turned out great. I can't decide what I love more... seeing all the beauty that is Venice, or looking at them in the photographs I take.
I guess I was not entirely surprised to see just as many tourists in this direction as well. I could tell they were tourists, even though many spoke Italian, because each and every one of them would come to a sudden grinding stop in the middle of the narrow, winding alleys to: a) stop to talk to each other as though incapable of both speech and movement at the same time b) have a family pow wow to discuss lunch or further sightseeing plans in the middle of every intersection or photo opportunity c) focus on whatever bauble they spied in the store window which had rendered them incapable of forward motion.
As a tourist, I can honestly see why Venetians despise tourists. The locals have places to go and people to see, and jobs to go to all of which are hindered by tourists with low self monitoring skills. All of this abominable touristic behavior did nothing to lessen my irrational hatred of crowds. Quite to the contrary, I now find my hatred all the more rational. Apparently this is a family trait, as Deidre cannot step foot in overcrowded Chinatown anywhere without breaking into a sweat.
I was relieved to find out that all of this backbiting (for indeed, with all the sudden stops by those ahead of me had me unwittingly biting more than one backside and stepping on more than a few heels), through the alleys ended up in ... Piazza San Marco.
San Marco is vast and impressive from it sheer size alone. I was disappointed to find the front of the basilica swathed in tarps and girded with scaffolding. I guess they have to do maintenance and my two week visit is as good a time as any.
I pulled out my camera and took my first shot... or tried to. My camera stuck with the lens half way extended and was rendered incapable of moving one way or the other (not unlike the tourists!). Worried that lightening would strike me down in this holy place, I nonetheless, swore like a truck driver. Not only was the camera broken... but, I had walked all that way to find out. I thought it might be the battery and put in the spare, but, against all hope, nothing happened.
Swearing under my breath the whole way home, I was at least thankful that I had brought three cameras and now had two left. I vowed to always carry a spare. Disheartened I went back to the apartment, plugged the batteries into the battery charger (just in case) and laid on my bed for several more hours of dreamless sleep.
Still jet lagged and exhausted by trekking to and from San Marco in record time, I decided to just pick something up at the grocery for dinner. I had made the big mistake of going to the CoOp around the corner the day before. I stood in line for 30 minutes for 2 bottles of water (yes the ones I would immediately empty and fill with barrel wine from the store directly across the street.) The clerks actually sit and check and you do all the work. Interesting. They must not be familiar with the Lucky Stores mantra of "Three's a Crowd".
The Billa grocery is about a mile away, but, I preferred the trek on my sore and stiff legs to the alternative. I picked up some salami, cheese and rolls and some pizza squares (to go with the whole takeaway pizza I purchased the day before at the very authentic Pizza Kebob store in nearby Campo Santi Apostoli).
Once home, I did what has become my Venice routine. As the bells throughout Venice chime Angelis at 6 p.m. I head to my terrace with my bottle of barrel prosecco and my Mac Air and write a post on this blog.
It turned out to be a great day. With a fully charged battery, the camera is now fully functional and all the pics I took before the Great Venetian Camera Caper turned out great. I can't decide what I love more... seeing all the beauty that is Venice, or looking at them in the photographs I take.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Day One - I Must Be Dreaming or Maybe Just Sleepwalking
After a less than stellar welcome to Venice I slept and greeted the second part of day one with enthusiasm. I knew that my long flight and the long wait to get into the apartment some sleep had colored my initial view of Venice.
In the late afternoon of my arrival I walked a few blocks to Strada Nouva - the so called business district of Cannaregio. It was an assault on my senses! There were SO many people that immediately my self diagnosed agoraphobia kicked in.
Getting acclimated to the throngs tested my mettle, but several deep breathing exercises later, I was able to find the TIM store to purchase a SIM card for my unlocked cell phone. I had purchased the phone in Portugal for 259 euros two years ago knowing that I would be doing more international travel. Imagine my surprise when told said "unlocked cell phone" was "LOCKED." I was then forced to purchase a 19 euro cell phone and 25 euro card, which - you guessed it, is not able to send text messages.- the sole reason for purchasing the card. Interestingly the 10 TIM text messages made it to the mailbox with no problem. I am now at three phones none of which enable to to call/text anyone.
I walked for what seemed like days but in reality was probably only a few miles. I stopped at La Cantina for a glass of prosecco, before soldiering on through the wall of tourists. Along the way I took over one hundred pictures of quaint alleys and squares. When I knew my legs couldn't take anymore stairs, I turned around and retraced my steps back home.
Later that evening I stopped for a glass or two of prosecco at Campo Santi Apostoli. The outdoor dining was lit by twinkle lights and was very charming. I am a huge sucker for twinkle lights. It must have something to do with growing up being one of the houses totally without Christmas lights during my "deprived" youth. The calamari and grilled vegetable were unremarkable. The prosecco was magic and gave me the liquid courage to approach the Ca D'Ora Gelateria where I had a small scoop of cherry gelato- my first ice cream in months.
After that there was no stopping me, so I entered the Dulce store with resolve to find some licorice candy to complete my first night. Licorice candy- check; pesce (peach) candy - check and biscotti - check. Toting my treasures I headed for home extremely weary and ready for some well deserved sleep.
In the late afternoon of my arrival I walked a few blocks to Strada Nouva - the so called business district of Cannaregio. It was an assault on my senses! There were SO many people that immediately my self diagnosed agoraphobia kicked in.
Getting acclimated to the throngs tested my mettle, but several deep breathing exercises later, I was able to find the TIM store to purchase a SIM card for my unlocked cell phone. I had purchased the phone in Portugal for 259 euros two years ago knowing that I would be doing more international travel. Imagine my surprise when told said "unlocked cell phone" was "LOCKED." I was then forced to purchase a 19 euro cell phone and 25 euro card, which - you guessed it, is not able to send text messages.- the sole reason for purchasing the card. Interestingly the 10 TIM text messages made it to the mailbox with no problem. I am now at three phones none of which enable to to call/text anyone.
I walked for what seemed like days but in reality was probably only a few miles. I stopped at La Cantina for a glass of prosecco, before soldiering on through the wall of tourists. Along the way I took over one hundred pictures of quaint alleys and squares. When I knew my legs couldn't take anymore stairs, I turned around and retraced my steps back home.
Later that evening I stopped for a glass or two of prosecco at Campo Santi Apostoli. The outdoor dining was lit by twinkle lights and was very charming. I am a huge sucker for twinkle lights. It must have something to do with growing up being one of the houses totally without Christmas lights during my "deprived" youth. The calamari and grilled vegetable were unremarkable. The prosecco was magic and gave me the liquid courage to approach the Ca D'Ora Gelateria where I had a small scoop of cherry gelato- my first ice cream in months.
After that there was no stopping me, so I entered the Dulce store with resolve to find some licorice candy to complete my first night. Licorice candy- check; pesce (peach) candy - check and biscotti - check. Toting my treasures I headed for home extremely weary and ready for some well deserved sleep.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Arrival Schmivel... I'm Tired and I Wanna Go to Bed!
I am convinced that no one on earth hates sitting in planes more than I do. I find sitting in these small upright prisons with all their right angles and draconian seat belts unnatural; and I hate them with a passion. I'm not sure who designed economy airline seats, but, I suspect that he is a direct descendent of the Marquis de Sade.
Therefore, one would be entirely correct if they assumed that I didn't take the news of the two hour runway delay with grace and acceptance. I hadn't done that much heaving and sighing since I pushed my first child out of my birth canal many years ago. I spared my fellow passengers the screaming that also accompanied that birth... but just barely.
When they announced that during this crawl to the runway (where we were 29th in line to takeoff), that no one was allowed to remove their seat belts or use the rest room, I fleetingly thought of organizing an economy passenger revolution to overtake the plane. One look at the overweight, menopausal, why- aren't- you -retired-by-now flight attendants and I knew it would be easy to wrest control.
I do not pretend that I am an expert in aviation, hell, I don't even know any air traffic controllers - but even my pea brain knows that a 29 plane wait list would mean the passengers could board at least 60 minutes later rather than 45 minutes EARLY.
The 10hr and 30 minutes that I was chained to my seat was fairly uneventful, if you consider extreme turbulence the entire time uneventful. For once I was glad for those god awful seat belts that cut off my circulation... and for the airsick bags. I, and everyone around me, was glad I didn't hurl and I have confess that I have never experienced this kind of nausea before on any flight.
After a VERY long flight on the Airbus 330, where I was unable to sleep a wink, I was dying to get to my apartment and catch some zzzs. The shared water taxi was a wonderful experience and my first sight of the Grand Canal was almost spiritual. But, I was so tired I knew that I couldn't fully appreciate it.
I was able to "appreciate" it much better as I stood there on a dock of that famed canal, far from where I thought I would be dropped off. After crawling over another boat that was actually tied to the dock (mine was not) I finally landed on terra firm.. or as firm as land can be that is suspended in water over a bunch of stacked trees.
The directions to the apartment were perfect and I only had to ask once where a street was. The number of the house, however was less than perfect. I knocked on several doors without success before hearing my name called from a window.
I had arrived at 11:00 a.m. and was told by the greeter that I could leave my bags but, that I could not enter or use the bathroom until 4 p.m. because the cleaners were there. In my estimation, the term "greeter" is an outrageous misnomer in this particular case. I walked around a bit and found a lovely restaurant on the lagoon, to have 2 prosecco and 5 lobster and black truffle ravioli for 39 euros. I would have gladly have paid 50 euros just to use their clean modern bathroom since I had been "holding it" since Philly!
More walking in hot, uncomfortable clothes and another 2 prosecco later the call finally came! I could go back to the apartment - the cleaner had finished. Now mind you the last renters left on the 27th and I arrived on the 30th, but, I guess they must do a VERY thorough cleaning.
After a 45 minute welcome and indoctrination about how to use the apartment, but, did not include where the washer is hiding- the greeter left. I am happy to report, the bed is wonderful and finally I was able to sleep.
Therefore, one would be entirely correct if they assumed that I didn't take the news of the two hour runway delay with grace and acceptance. I hadn't done that much heaving and sighing since I pushed my first child out of my birth canal many years ago. I spared my fellow passengers the screaming that also accompanied that birth... but just barely.
When they announced that during this crawl to the runway (where we were 29th in line to takeoff), that no one was allowed to remove their seat belts or use the rest room, I fleetingly thought of organizing an economy passenger revolution to overtake the plane. One look at the overweight, menopausal, why- aren't- you -retired-by-now flight attendants and I knew it would be easy to wrest control.
I do not pretend that I am an expert in aviation, hell, I don't even know any air traffic controllers - but even my pea brain knows that a 29 plane wait list would mean the passengers could board at least 60 minutes later rather than 45 minutes EARLY.
The 10hr and 30 minutes that I was chained to my seat was fairly uneventful, if you consider extreme turbulence the entire time uneventful. For once I was glad for those god awful seat belts that cut off my circulation... and for the airsick bags. I, and everyone around me, was glad I didn't hurl and I have confess that I have never experienced this kind of nausea before on any flight.
After a VERY long flight on the Airbus 330, where I was unable to sleep a wink, I was dying to get to my apartment and catch some zzzs. The shared water taxi was a wonderful experience and my first sight of the Grand Canal was almost spiritual. But, I was so tired I knew that I couldn't fully appreciate it.
I was able to "appreciate" it much better as I stood there on a dock of that famed canal, far from where I thought I would be dropped off. After crawling over another boat that was actually tied to the dock (mine was not) I finally landed on terra firm.. or as firm as land can be that is suspended in water over a bunch of stacked trees.
The directions to the apartment were perfect and I only had to ask once where a street was. The number of the house, however was less than perfect. I knocked on several doors without success before hearing my name called from a window.
I had arrived at 11:00 a.m. and was told by the greeter that I could leave my bags but, that I could not enter or use the bathroom until 4 p.m. because the cleaners were there. In my estimation, the term "greeter" is an outrageous misnomer in this particular case. I walked around a bit and found a lovely restaurant on the lagoon, to have 2 prosecco and 5 lobster and black truffle ravioli for 39 euros. I would have gladly have paid 50 euros just to use their clean modern bathroom since I had been "holding it" since Philly!
More walking in hot, uncomfortable clothes and another 2 prosecco later the call finally came! I could go back to the apartment - the cleaner had finished. Now mind you the last renters left on the 27th and I arrived on the 30th, but, I guess they must do a VERY thorough cleaning.
After a 45 minute welcome and indoctrination about how to use the apartment, but, did not include where the washer is hiding- the greeter left. I am happy to report, the bed is wonderful and finally I was able to sleep.
Friday, August 9, 2013
Venice, Italy: Get Lost!
The Number 21...
The number 21 is special to me today because in exactly 21 days I will be:
There are 21 days until I reach... heaven on earth.
- Crossing the Venetian lagoon on the Alilaguna water bus heading for the Fondamenta Nuove Stop
- Wending my way through the confusing, tiny alleys to my Rio Terra Barba Frutterol canalside apartment
- Having my first authentic prosecco, spritz and grappa... yes, all in one day
- Snapping countless pictures with my yet undecided upon camera
- Searching for the closest gelateria
- Finding the shop where they fill any bottle you bring with 2 euro very drinkable wine
- Deciding at which charming little trattoria I will be having my first Venetian meal
- Having my first glimpse of the Grand Canal, a gondola and St Mark's Square
- And getting utterly, hopelessly, enjoyably lost.
There are 21 days until I reach... heaven on earth.
Monday, July 29, 2013
Funny How Time Slips Away...
One month from today I will leave on my third "Dream" adventure. Following a year of research and hemming and hawing, 9 months ago I selected Venice as the my next destination. Five months ago, I put down a deposit on my canal side apartment in the Cannaregio area of Venice. Today, I start my final countdown for a trip that, deep within my soul, I feel could be the best and most life altering one yet.
I am not a clairvoyant by any stretch of the imagination, but, I do have a feeling that I will fall in love with Venice ... far deeper in love than I have ever been before. There is something about her decaying beauty, bridges, canals, colors and amazing architecture that beckons me. I look at pictures of Venice and wish I were a poet so I could do this regal lady all the justice she deserves.
Sadly, I am not a poet, but, just a dreamer with pedestrian writing and photography skills. But, if I am able to grow and strengthen my skills anywhere ... it will be in La Serenissima. It is said that everyone who visits Venice falls in love with her. So strong is the power of her magical beauty that many return time after time. Some of the most romantic visit her shores and never leave. In thirty days, I will know exactly which of these visitors I am. Until then, I will dream of getting that "special shot" and of writing, oh so imperfectly, about the wonders of the Queen of the Adriatic.
I am not a clairvoyant by any stretch of the imagination, but, I do have a feeling that I will fall in love with Venice ... far deeper in love than I have ever been before. There is something about her decaying beauty, bridges, canals, colors and amazing architecture that beckons me. I look at pictures of Venice and wish I were a poet so I could do this regal lady all the justice she deserves.
Sadly, I am not a poet, but, just a dreamer with pedestrian writing and photography skills. But, if I am able to grow and strengthen my skills anywhere ... it will be in La Serenissima. It is said that everyone who visits Venice falls in love with her. So strong is the power of her magical beauty that many return time after time. Some of the most romantic visit her shores and never leave. In thirty days, I will know exactly which of these visitors I am. Until then, I will dream of getting that "special shot" and of writing, oh so imperfectly, about the wonders of the Queen of the Adriatic.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Check, Check, Check
Cannaregio apartment deposit... check. Purchase bridge camera... check. Purchase superior point and shoot.... Check. Research and purchase camcorder... check. Lots of little travel details.... check, check, check. And today I checked the second to last item on my Venice vacation list when I purchased my $1229 ticket to Venice. Now all that remains is the $3040 final payment ... and of course, the very long two month wait. Hurry August 29th... HURRY.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Summertime
A friend once told me that travel is all about the journey and not the destination. This is advice I have taken to heart in my recent travels. My preparation for my trips brings me almost as much joy as the actual destination. I pour over travel DVDs, books and blogs trying to glean every available piece of information about my destination.
This year I branched out combing You Tube for every Venice video that was uploaded.. some by professionals, but, many more by amateur travelers. I derived a lot of pleasure watching hours upon hours of Venice scenery. My excitement grew with each turn on the Grand Canal. When I eventually watched all the videos in English I dove into those in foreign languages. I found it interesting that the beauty of Venice transcends all languages and I enjoyed these videos almost as much.
I was then inspired to search for movies filmed in Venice. Surprisingly, there were very few that I was familiar with. After a short elimination process I finally settled on two movies: "The Wings of the Dove" and "Summertime."
"Summertime" is a 1955 movie filmed entirely on location in Venice. What made it an even better choice was that it starred the amazing Katharine Hepburn and Rossano Brazzi. So this past Sunday night, tucked in my bed with all the lights off, I began to watch 'Summertime".
The scenery was once again mesmerizing. But, what really struck a chord with me was Hepburn's character, Jane Hudson. Ironically, Jane was an unmarried middle -aged woman who had saved for years to be able to take this trip of a lifetime... not unlike myself. Watching Jane you could actually feel her excitement and her yearning as she approached the Santa Lucia train station in Venice. All of a sudden I was transformed and it was me on that boat approaching the Grand Canal with all the years of built up anticipation.
In a scene on Hudson's canal-side balcony, Jane paces with tiger-like agility and restlessness to and fro... as if ready to jump out of her skin. She is yearning for something that she herself can't put a finger on. Later, as she wanders the narrow Venetian alleyways, she searches and searches and yet does not seem to know what she is looking for. She absorbs all the beauty and energy of Venice yet still feels restless and uneasy... always looking for more.
In just 100 minutes a 58 year old movie brought clarity to every fiber of my being. In my travels, I, too, have lived those exact same feelings.... loving the experience, but, feeling like something was missing, looking for more.. not feeling quite complete... feeling lonely, unsettled, restless and yearning for something I could not find.
Jane Hudson eventually found what she was looking for... Will I?
This year I branched out combing You Tube for every Venice video that was uploaded.. some by professionals, but, many more by amateur travelers. I derived a lot of pleasure watching hours upon hours of Venice scenery. My excitement grew with each turn on the Grand Canal. When I eventually watched all the videos in English I dove into those in foreign languages. I found it interesting that the beauty of Venice transcends all languages and I enjoyed these videos almost as much.
I was then inspired to search for movies filmed in Venice. Surprisingly, there were very few that I was familiar with. After a short elimination process I finally settled on two movies: "The Wings of the Dove" and "Summertime."
"Summertime" is a 1955 movie filmed entirely on location in Venice. What made it an even better choice was that it starred the amazing Katharine Hepburn and Rossano Brazzi. So this past Sunday night, tucked in my bed with all the lights off, I began to watch 'Summertime".
The scenery was once again mesmerizing. But, what really struck a chord with me was Hepburn's character, Jane Hudson. Ironically, Jane was an unmarried middle -aged woman who had saved for years to be able to take this trip of a lifetime... not unlike myself. Watching Jane you could actually feel her excitement and her yearning as she approached the Santa Lucia train station in Venice. All of a sudden I was transformed and it was me on that boat approaching the Grand Canal with all the years of built up anticipation.
In a scene on Hudson's canal-side balcony, Jane paces with tiger-like agility and restlessness to and fro... as if ready to jump out of her skin. She is yearning for something that she herself can't put a finger on. Later, as she wanders the narrow Venetian alleyways, she searches and searches and yet does not seem to know what she is looking for. She absorbs all the beauty and energy of Venice yet still feels restless and uneasy... always looking for more.
In just 100 minutes a 58 year old movie brought clarity to every fiber of my being. In my travels, I, too, have lived those exact same feelings.... loving the experience, but, feeling like something was missing, looking for more.. not feeling quite complete... feeling lonely, unsettled, restless and yearning for something I could not find.
Jane Hudson eventually found what she was looking for... Will I?
Thursday, May 30, 2013
My Shadow is the Only Thing that Walks Beside Me
Exactly three months from today I arrive in Venice. I will take the Alilaguna boat from the Marco Polo airport to the Fondamenta Nova vaporetto stop and there I will begin my second solo European adventure.
It is always a little intimidating finding your way around a foreign city; and it is especially daunting in the beginning until you get your bearings. In most cities you can take a taxi from the airport that will drop you right in front of your accommodations. Venice is unlike any city on earth and especially in this regard. Since Venice is a auto free zone, the only means of getting around are by boat or the original means of transportation... feet.
So, I will be searching the warren-like alleys for my canal-side apartment on foot; dragging suitcases carrying all I need to live like a Venetian for two glorious weeks. All the tour books and travel blogs indicate that maps are useless in Venice since there is no rhyme or reason to the addresses, and, many of the tiny alleys have no street name at all.
There is no way to really research my journey from the vaporetto stop to my home away from home in advance. My trusty old friend, Google, doesn't have the street view for this mysterious collection of ancient islands. I, alone, will need to navigate the confusing and cryptic directions provided in broken English from my Venetian landlord.
So far, this is the only thing that is causing any anxiety, the only thing that makes my solo trip a little scary. For those first nerve-wracking moments of my journey... my shadow and I will search alone.
It is always a little intimidating finding your way around a foreign city; and it is especially daunting in the beginning until you get your bearings. In most cities you can take a taxi from the airport that will drop you right in front of your accommodations. Venice is unlike any city on earth and especially in this regard. Since Venice is a auto free zone, the only means of getting around are by boat or the original means of transportation... feet.
So, I will be searching the warren-like alleys for my canal-side apartment on foot; dragging suitcases carrying all I need to live like a Venetian for two glorious weeks. All the tour books and travel blogs indicate that maps are useless in Venice since there is no rhyme or reason to the addresses, and, many of the tiny alleys have no street name at all.
There is no way to really research my journey from the vaporetto stop to my home away from home in advance. My trusty old friend, Google, doesn't have the street view for this mysterious collection of ancient islands. I, alone, will need to navigate the confusing and cryptic directions provided in broken English from my Venetian landlord.
So far, this is the only thing that is causing any anxiety, the only thing that makes my solo trip a little scary. For those first nerve-wracking moments of my journey... my shadow and I will search alone.
Non Parlo l'italiano... Ancora
Unless you are a linguist, the biggest challenge when traveling to a foreign country is trying to make yourself understood. Unlike most Europeans, Americans generally just speak one language fluently... English. Unfortunately, I am your typical American traveler.
I speak English... and English only. Two years of intense Spanish verb conjugation with Sister Veronica resulted in absolutely no understanding of verb conjugation and a very pronounced Catalan accent (Sister was from the Catalan area of Spain) which makes any Spanish I do manage to remember, virtually unrecognizable to your average Spanish speaking individual.
My two years with Mrs. Ratajczak, another Spaniard but, with a Polish name, produced only my ability to recite a riveting dialogue between Juan and Maria about meatballs and the library. I do not even remember my year in college. Apparently it was so unproductive I have completely blocked it from my mind. So as one can tell, clearly, a linguist I am not!
When I went to Paris, I prepped by learning to say "Do you speak English?" and "I do not speak French." But, my pronunciation was embarrassingly bad. it was so bad, that I was laughed at regularly when trying to order meals anywhere in Paris. I was laughed at so often that I took to buying a baguette, cheese and a bottle of wine and dining in most nights. I don't think that if I live to be 100 I will ever get the hang of swallowing all the consonants that are required to speak French fluently.
I fared much better in Portugal. Since almost everyone speaks English I was saved the humiliation of trying to speak Portuguese. Portuguese is surprisingly hard to speak with lots of "zwah" sounds in it. While I abandoned hope of learning ANY Portuguese, I was happy that my research provided an answer to a question dating back to when I visited my father's relatives 45 years ago. My father's aunt called him something that sounded like "Zwon- zing" which I learned was actually "Little John" in Portuguese... I think!
So, here I am prepping for another trip to yet another foreign country. Ah Italian... seriously, how hard can it be? I bought some audio tapes for the car, and Deidre bought me the Italian Rosetta Stone. Girded with all the linguistic resources available, I have vowed to master the language before I leave on August 29. This time I am doing much, much better than my previous attempts to become multilingual. For example, I have already learned the following: "Piachere" .. pleased to meet you. "Vorrei un bicchiere di vino blanco, per favore" ... I'd like a glass of white wine, please. And my favorite: "Vedo cinque verde bicicletta" ... I see five green bicycles. Now the only question is: How can I bring up five green bicycles in a city where bicycles are prohibited?
Monday, February 25, 2013
Reality Check
It happened almost simultaneously. No sooner did I hit send button for the deposit on
the for my newest "Dream", then the old nagging worries started again. I had not traveled to Europe alone since my trip to Paris in 2010 and thoughts of finding my way around another foreign country unnerved me.
I immediately started obsessing about how I would get from the airport to my apartment in the Cannaregio area in Venice. I couldn't just hop in a cab, as Venice is a pedestrian city and cars are not permitted. How in the world would I find my way from the vaporetto, dragging two weeks worth of luggage, through the maze of streets and alleys to my canal side destination? After all Venice is a city that brags that EVERYONE gets lost there. I spent a sleepless night wondering whether I should even attempt the trip.
The next day, still bogged down with worry, I contacted one of my colleagues in New York on some work related issue. During our conversation I asked about her son, Keith.
Keith Zeier is a Gulf War veteran, who in 2006, at age 19, was severely wounded by an IED explosion. His brain injury was minor, however, his leg injury left him with a 12 inch scar and no feeling in part of his left leg and excruciating pain in the other part. Doctors advised that he might never walk again but, if he did it would only be with the aid of a cane. After a long rehabilitation period, Keith became involved with the Special Operations Warrior Foundation. This foundation helps the families of fallen warriors and had provided assistance to his mother, Denise during his long recovery. http://www.specialops.org
In 2009, after training with CrossFit for 7 months, he decided to participate in the Key West 100 mile run as a fundraiser and awareness vehicle for SOWF. Along with his entourage, including his bother Craig, a physical therapist, Keith headed to Florida. He started off the race well. But, at mile 75, exhausted, suffering from dehydration, searing leg pain, and barely able to walk, Keith was advised by paramedics to discontinue. After signing a health waiver, he stoically continued the race, and after 31:03 hrs, Keith crossed the finish line. His run raised over $100K for the foundation. http://www.today.com/video/today/31724924/#3172492s
In 2011, after 5 years of chronic and unyielding pain, Keith made the brave decision to have his painful left leg amputated. He was fitted with a prosthetic and following a long and strenuous rehabilitation period, Keith continued to raise funds for SOWF. He started Ascents of Honor http://ascentsofhonor.org with a fellow mountain climber he met while climbing Mt Ranier in 2012. The organization planned an Ascents fundraising climb of Mount Washington, New Hampshire for January 2013.
Keith continued to cheat death during the climb when an avalanche felled he and his fellow climbers pushing them 800 feet down the side of the icy mountain. Miraculously, Keith survived with only an injured leg and a torn rotator cuff. Since his injury has caused his stump to swell he is relegated to wheel chair until he can once again wear his prosthetic leg. Although Keith is still healing and the road to recovery will be a long one, he has vowed to climb again for his fallen warrior foundation.
When Denise finished telling me about her heroic son, two things happened. First, I made a donation to the Special Operations Warrior Foundation, and secondly, I felt embarrassed that I had worried about something as minor as airport transportation.
Keith was the reality check I needed. Surely if Keith could run 100 miles on a painful leg, and then climb mountains with a prosthetic leg, I could navigate a few waterways and hidden alleys. Keith Zeier is truly an American Hero. Not only is his fortitude an inspiration to me... his bravery serves as a daily reminder to me how I can overcome my truly minuscule fears. Now... a lot braver I set my sights on Venice!
the for my newest "Dream", then the old nagging worries started again. I had not traveled to Europe alone since my trip to Paris in 2010 and thoughts of finding my way around another foreign country unnerved me.
I immediately started obsessing about how I would get from the airport to my apartment in the Cannaregio area in Venice. I couldn't just hop in a cab, as Venice is a pedestrian city and cars are not permitted. How in the world would I find my way from the vaporetto, dragging two weeks worth of luggage, through the maze of streets and alleys to my canal side destination? After all Venice is a city that brags that EVERYONE gets lost there. I spent a sleepless night wondering whether I should even attempt the trip.
The next day, still bogged down with worry, I contacted one of my colleagues in New York on some work related issue. During our conversation I asked about her son, Keith.
Keith Zeier is a Gulf War veteran, who in 2006, at age 19, was severely wounded by an IED explosion. His brain injury was minor, however, his leg injury left him with a 12 inch scar and no feeling in part of his left leg and excruciating pain in the other part. Doctors advised that he might never walk again but, if he did it would only be with the aid of a cane. After a long rehabilitation period, Keith became involved with the Special Operations Warrior Foundation. This foundation helps the families of fallen warriors and had provided assistance to his mother, Denise during his long recovery. http://www.specialops.org
In 2009, after training with CrossFit for 7 months, he decided to participate in the Key West 100 mile run as a fundraiser and awareness vehicle for SOWF. Along with his entourage, including his bother Craig, a physical therapist, Keith headed to Florida. He started off the race well. But, at mile 75, exhausted, suffering from dehydration, searing leg pain, and barely able to walk, Keith was advised by paramedics to discontinue. After signing a health waiver, he stoically continued the race, and after 31:03 hrs, Keith crossed the finish line. His run raised over $100K for the foundation. http://www.today.com/video/today/31724924/#3172492s
In 2011, after 5 years of chronic and unyielding pain, Keith made the brave decision to have his painful left leg amputated. He was fitted with a prosthetic and following a long and strenuous rehabilitation period, Keith continued to raise funds for SOWF. He started Ascents of Honor http://ascentsofhonor.org with a fellow mountain climber he met while climbing Mt Ranier in 2012. The organization planned an Ascents fundraising climb of Mount Washington, New Hampshire for January 2013.
Keith continued to cheat death during the climb when an avalanche felled he and his fellow climbers pushing them 800 feet down the side of the icy mountain. Miraculously, Keith survived with only an injured leg and a torn rotator cuff. Since his injury has caused his stump to swell he is relegated to wheel chair until he can once again wear his prosthetic leg. Although Keith is still healing and the road to recovery will be a long one, he has vowed to climb again for his fallen warrior foundation.
When Denise finished telling me about her heroic son, two things happened. First, I made a donation to the Special Operations Warrior Foundation, and secondly, I felt embarrassed that I had worried about something as minor as airport transportation.
Keith was the reality check I needed. Surely if Keith could run 100 miles on a painful leg, and then climb mountains with a prosthetic leg, I could navigate a few waterways and hidden alleys. Keith Zeier is truly an American Hero. Not only is his fortitude an inspiration to me... his bravery serves as a daily reminder to me how I can overcome my truly minuscule fears. Now... a lot braver I set my sights on Venice!
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