Venezia

The weekend in Venice was good, and bookended with really interesting train rides. We came to the conclusion that Turino is where all good train rides go to die. Each time we passed through the city, we were thereafter surrounded by screaming babies, nursing mothers, smelly Italian guys that thought they were really smooth, tons of languages we didn't understand, snobby British older couples and customs police... which was a bit scary on the return, because we found a really well priced grocery in Italy and came back with bags of food. I'm still not really sure if that was ok or not, but we made it.

We got to Venice as the sun was setting on Friday and took the waterbus, their only means of transit around the city, to our hostel. The hostel was on Guidecca, a seperate part of Venice than the main island with San Marco's square. It was a long ride on the boat, but with the most beautiful cityscape as our scenery. All of the buildings come right to the water, and the stop for our hostel was right across from the square. Before turning in for the night, we walked the island's length, crossing all of the little bridges and passing the cafes with their locals and the scent of the Adriatic and espresso mixing in the air.

The showers at the hostel were few in number and lacking doors, so we opted to just not. Thank God we both showered right before we left in the morning or we would have been completely miserable by Sunday! We met the next morning for the usual free breakfast of a roll- much spongier and soft than those at the French hostel- and coffee, this time a cappuccino.

When we looked outside, we saw that the skies were dark with rain and a drizzle had already started, but we took the boat over to the square anyway. It was absolutely dead, between the rain and the fact that it was nine in the morning. We got to see all of the square before the shops even opened, and then got a pass for the library and the Correr Musuem that wrap around the plaza. The passes were mostly to get us out of the rain, with the hopes that it would stop before we left (it didn't), but we found a lot of artwork that we were really interested it. Most of the painting were religious, which Jon and I both skim over, but the coins from the times of the dukes and the doge were so ornate and had a really wide range of sizes. The most amazing thing we saw was the foot of a statue. I can't imagine how large the entire person must have been because the nail on his pinky toe was larger than my hand.

After the museums, we became part of the sea of umbrellas again, weaving through shops with all of Venice's specialties: linens and textiles, masks, sterlin silver and blown glass. Between the romantic atmosphere, the fragile nature of all of their products and the expensive prices, we decided Venice is the least child-friendly city in Europe. I found a necklace that I love; it's black ribbon with a large glass pendant with swirls of blue and silver.

We gave up on Italy for a bit and returned to our hostel for some white wine. Our attitudes were drooping and we wanted to find a way to save the weekend; the best way to do that had to start with warming up. I filled out my postcards and sipped my wine while we figured out what to do. As we weighed our options, the skies made the decision for us. The sun came out, the temperature rose and we went back to the square for a much more typical Venice experience- as pigeon-filled as you can imagine. Not just any pigeons, but greasy, gross, people-loving pigeons. We again took refuge in the side streets of shops and small restaurants, lingering outside of each and taking in the smells of oregano and fresh seafood.

The next morning, we took the boat to the next stop, the island of S.S. Giorgio, a basilica designed by a really famous Italian architect that Jon was very excited about. I was excited about the sun and the view as I sat at the water's edge and wrote with no other tourists to get in our way. We had toured the church, prayed and been resting at the edge of the island for an hour before a cruise ship drove by and another tour ship pulled in with at least 100 older tourists that swarmed and clicked and watched Jon sketch. We took our cue and headed back to the discount grocery store before going to the train station for the seven hours back.

It felt strange to be coming home to France. The border was such a welcome sight, and hearing French after the warp speed and animation of Italian.