6-17-07
CT 5:05
IT 12:05
Solemn Goodbyes and the Promises Within.
(Again, two days have passed since these events.)
I had to get up and be checked out before 9, which is the most ridiculous check-out time in history. After I settled everything, I got some pre-packaged toast and hit the road. The right bus didn’t come, so I went ahead and walked to S.M.E. It was the last time I was going to get to see it, so it was just as well for me to take advantage of the hike. I took the first boat to Piazza San Marco so I could do one of the other museums on my short itinerary for the day. The Ducal Palace (meaning the Duke or Doge’s residence) was my first stop.
The palace is extremely huge and full of decent artwork (it’s not nearly as ornate as the Palazzo Vecchio in my opinion, but I didn’t get to take the secret tour of the Doge’s palace). The Doge of Venice was a duke without much political or religious power (it was mostly ruled by councils and the like). Because of this I’m not actually sure what the actual role of the Doge was. To live in the palace? To have a figurehead ruler for life? I really don’t know. I didn’t have any tour information when I was going through and the book I bought at the end wasn’t really that specific about the office. I suppose I’ll have to do separate reading. The actual construction of the palace was different than other palazzi (if that is indeed the plural) that I’ve been in. There were quite a few interesting differences between it and other places I’ve been, so that was kind of fun.
After I got out of the Ducal Palace, I decided two things. The first was that I would call Dr. Bane and tell him that if he wanted to meet me where I was (it’s fun to be alone and do stuff on your own, but I like having people to share the experience with as well). The second was that I had gotten my money’s worth out of my San Marco Plus pass and that it was time to get most of my shopping done. That said, I headed toward the next boat to the Rialto Bridge. It was extremely crowded, but it was a rather short ride compared to many of the others.
Once I got to the Rialto Bridge, I headed for the lace shop and the glass shop, which faced each other on either side of the bridge walkway. In the Burano lace shop I pulled out my Italian 101 lessons and used “Questo” (“this one”) on three different items and pulled out my card, mindful of the exchange rate that was supposedly phenomenally high. I then went to the Murano glass shop and bought some more families after some deliberation. When they ran my card, this particular shop showed me what it would be in USD as well. It should have said $25 in USD if the exchange rate was what the signs around town were saying, but it said $23 and some odd cents. I thought this was highly peculiar, so I went to a nearby ATM. On the way I saw a sign in a window that said 1.38 – meaning that the place I had seen originally was charging an outrageous rate of at least 12 cents over the exchange rate. I withdrew the last bit of my money that I could, with enough to pay Dr. Bane back for the gondola ride and dinner, and felt a great weight lift off of my shoulders. Exchange rates wreak havoc on your soul. Believe me.
I got some gelato (limone is especially good in Venice, according to my expert opinion) and headed back to St. Mark’s in case Dr. Bane called. He never did, so I wandered around the square once or twice, bought some corn, fed the pigeons, and headed to Ferrovia (lit. “street of iron”) to the train station. I got a tuna sandwich and a water a and sat in the train station for over an hour waiting on people. Slowly people I knew started trickling in until we were all present and accounted for. We all got on the train together and mostly fell asleep. I felt a strong pang of sadness. Venice had been my favorite, especially due to its peacefulness. But with every goodbye, there is a hope of another meeting, chance or no. I’ll wait for my next chance. Goodbyes are never forever anyway.
Toward the end of the trip, most of us started waking up and talking. We reminisced (about the trip, about Baridon, etc.) until we got to Florence. Once we got off the train, Dr. Bane and Paulette invited as many of us as wanted to go to Gilli (the chocolate store that is apparently a restaurant as well) to meet Danielle. I was the only one that went, but I figured I could use a cheap dinner. Much to my distress, it was neither cheap nor a full dinner. I got nearly the same thing I did in Rome at the L’insalata place and it was about 1/3 of the size with harder cheese. I was disappointed, especially since it cost an outrageous 11.50. Win some, lose some.
Afterward, we decided to go in and get chocolate. I got a rossa, cremini, caffe, and some kind of toffee type chocolate. I ate my caffe first. It had a coffee bean on top. It was crunchy and, of course, bitter, but it was good. I had the rossa next, which looked like it was dipped in white chocolate. I took a bite and nearly spit it out. Danielle had hers next, and she described at as tasting like potpourri. We agreed on this (Dr. Bane took a bite and spit it back out). The cremini was the best out of the ones I had had so far, as it tasted the most like a crème caramel chocolate. Then I had the toffee thing, which was pretty disgusting as well. I knew I wasn’t a big chocolate fan for a reason. I think it’s because, for the most part, chocolate is big miss on flavor with me. I’ve never been much of a sweets fan anyway. As good after dinner conversation, someone began talking about Dr. Bane’s daughter being in the girl scouts, which prompted me to tell the story of my feet.*
I walked back with Dr. Bane and Paulette toward their apartment on Bargello and headed back toward my apartment. After I got up the room, I began cataloguing all of my loot for others and tried to figure out who I was missing. Then I realized that I was going to have quite a time getting all of my things home and began brainstorming for that huge obstacle.
After a long day, I went straight to bed. I was exhausted (and extremely hot – the summer’s are just as bad here as they are in Arkansas, except with no air conditioning). But at the same time, I was discouraged at how Venice had simply come and gone – quietly all the while. One day I will have to come back, and I can’t wait to do so.
*“….which prompted me to tell the story of my feet.”: For those of you who are extremely queasy, or are not interested in any sidenotes that don’t have to do with my experiences in Italy or thoughts on the world abroad, you might not want to read on.
When I was in second grade, I was in Girl Scouts. One weekend we all went on a mandatory camping trip. There were something like 10 or 15 girls on said trip, and we were all supposed to sleep in the same tent. As probably could have been expected, there wasn’t enough room in the tent for all of us and the chaperones, so my mom was going to sleep outside the tent. I decided I would sleep with her. My mom let me have the side closest to the fire to keep warm in the night. In no time we were both sound asleep.
Now there is some bylaw in Girl Scout code that has a mandatory time that the fire must be put out. The women who were with us were too absorbed in conversation to really pay attention to what was going on (what harm could come from a fire that was nearly down to the coals anyway?). It turns out that my sleeping bag was on an incline. I more than likely slid than rolled, but the effect was the same: I ended up with the foot end of my sleeping bag in the fire. I woke up to the smell of something burning (you can imagine what), and saw the sleeping bag on fire before I registered that my feet were also burning.
I started screaming and scooted out of the sleeping bag as fast as I could, but the damage was done. The nylon had melted into my foot, and I was in a lot of pain. My mom started screaming, the women started babbling, and the other scouts were flabbergasted. Thus we went to the hospital and I had to be driven to Children’s Hospital in Little Rock – in an ambulance!
Somewhat later on my foot got infected and it had to be scrubbed with a fingernail brush – which is one of the most painful experiences I can somewhat remember in my entire life. In the end, I was in a wheelchair for two months before I could recover enough to walk on my own again without crutches.
That is the story of my feet. Not too pleasant, I know.
Posted by
Unknown
8:57 AM
6-16-07
CT 11:25
IT 6:25
Enchanted
(Two days have passed by now since these events, so forgive me for those things that are vague or not mentioned at all.)
Because I stayed by myself on the far side of the island, I was subject to my own schedule for the most part. That said, I figured I would go straight to San Marco and hit the museums. Unlike the day before, the Circulare bus didn’t come, so I decided to take Bus A since it was probably going to come back to S.M.E. anyway. Wrong. I was on the part of the circuit that went straight to the other side of the island. I have a picture of the sign that said I entered another town. Anyway, I got out at the last stop and then hopped back on the bus after taking pictures (at the end of one leg of the route, the bus drivers get out and stretch). I then got back to S.M.E. and took the ferry right away.
I got the Piazza San Marco and twiddled my thumbs a bit, wondering what to do. I kind of wanted to feed the pigeons, but I had 30 Euro in my wallet and I wanted to make it last until I left. I saw a huge line for Basilica di San Marco, so I went ahead and got in line, reading Italo Calvino all the while. When I got closer to the church, I saw bad news: I had to go check my bag at a place that wasn’t in the church. So I had to get out of line, go to San Basso church just a block away, check my bag, and come back and get in at the end of the line. It was a major detriment to my enthusiasm, but the line moved pretty quickly and I got to listen to the British people behind me read out of their guide book.
When we got inside the door, there were people being taken aside and cloaked with what looked like butcher paper. One of the women behind me gasped (well, it was hideous), and said, “Why are they putting that on?” I turned and told her (from my plentiful experience) that they had to wear it because their shoulders had to be covered. The woman behind me said, “OOOOOH. Of course” and submitted herself to fashion hell. I had jean capris and a t-shirt on, so as usual I was fine. When I walked in, for someone who has museum/church fatigue, I was generally awed. Every inch of ceiling was covered in gold and multi-color mosaic. It was absolutely gorgeous. Think my pictures of the baptistery over a space 20 times bigger. It was absolutely gorgeous and inspiring.
I hadn’t expected getting in the church to be free, but I soon found out why. To get into the Treasury of Saint Mark, two rooms to the side, I had to pay 2 Euro. I tried to pull a student discount (remember how much I have to work with), but the guy shook his head, looking kind of tired of me already. I forked it over reluctantly (you have to constantly remind yourself that a) you’ll never be able to come back or b) you don’t know when you’ll be able to come back, or you will never be able to spend money). The treasure ended up being mostly reliquaries. When we went to the Medici Chapel last week, we thought that was a lot of dead people in pretty caskets. There were so many people’s parts in those little jars and chests that it almost looked like a Frankensteinian graveyard. Some of the coolest ones were in the shape of forearms – complete with hands – with windows to the bones in the arm that they contained, the actual container being gold and gem encrusted. It was a fantastic show of what I consider to be an ugly part of the Catholic Church – the dissection and dismantling of human beings for political and religious purposes. While it may be ugly, it’s extremely interesting to look at. The second room mostly had artifacts from 9th and 10th century Constantinople and Byzantium (pre-Schism), huge swords, and other such treasures. I also saw what would end up being the first of many artifacts that had been taken to New York to be in an exhibit called Venice and the Islamic World.
When I exited the treasure of San Marco, I looked for tombs. I usually find those the most fascinating aspect of these Catholic churches. Surrounded by dead people, worshippers pray for their salvation and for their own guarantee of an afterlife. But there weren’t many to be seen in this church. The mosaics (anytime you see a mosaic in Italy it’s either going to be ancient Roman or Byzantine. If you ever come, you’ll see that this influence is everywhere) were pretty much the life of the party here, especially the ceilings and the floor. Even the floors were covered from wall to wall in swirling and optical illusion mosaics.
I went up to see the screen and realized that I had to pay again, this time only 1.50. The man was a lot nicer than the last guy, at least saying, “Buongiorno.” I paid him and said “grazie” to which he said, “Prego, rigazza. Ciao.” Where I would consider it a bit belittling for someone to consistently call me “sweetie” or “dear” in the States, rigazza has its own charm (depending on the gender, it means “young girl” or “young boy”). Anyway, I went up the stairs to go to the Pala d’Oro, which is something like an altar screen I think (I’m not sure how these things work). On one side it was a painting on wood of saints and Christ (almost as common as the Crucifix and Madonna and Child). On the other side was this beautiful array of Christ, apostles, and saints, plated in gold and encrusted with gems on every side of it. It was absolutely gorgeous and gaudy, which I think was the point to an extent. After that, I walked around the church slowly, trying to absorb as much as I could. The church was holding mass at the time I came in, so I went ahead and left for the gift shop. I bought some postcards and a book and left. I got my bag and tried to determine what I should do next.
I knew there were museums across the piazza from the church because I had seen signs for exhibits. I thought, “Why not?” and went to check on what was up. There was a huge sign about a pass, but it was about as labyrinthine as the city so I had no idea what I was actually reading. I went up these huge stairs to a room filled with gift shop books and two clerks. The one I went up to spoke perfect English and told me that I could get into all of the San Marco plus quite a few civic museums for 18 Euro (one museum, the Ducal Palace, was 13 Euro alone). I didn’t want to pay that much (and I wasn’t going to be here that long), so the guy suggested I take the San Marco + Pass that only included the museums of San Marco plus one other civic museum for 13. I took that deal, because I planned on going to two other museums, making the pass more than pay for itself. I got my pass, checked my bag, and went through the Museo Correi.
Which was a bit disappointing.
See, I’ve come from Florence, the Renaissance city, so 17th century art is kind of anticlimactic to me. I did like the ancient artifacts, like the map room and Venezian armory, but otherwise it was almost a bust. When I came out of the museum, I was trying to decide where I wanted to go next. I walked along the right arm of San Marco when I got a call from Dr. Bane, telling me he was in the piazza. I went to find him and with one more call, we successfully found each other. He said that his bunch was trying to get money out of an ATM and then they were going to the Accademia, where some Da Vinci stuff is supposedly being held (insert Bane’s hypothesis that the Vitruvian Man, which the museum claims to hold, has been lost as he has not seen it at the Accademia or any Accademia sponsored exhibit where it was supposedly placed). They invited me to go with him, but I refused saying I still wanted to go to Murano, the glass craft island. We parted ways and I took the 45 minute boat ride to Murano.
Murano is a twin island to Burano (though the latter is smaller). Both islands have their craft of choice – Murano being glass and glass blowing and Burano being lace and lace-making. As can be imagined, Murano is the island of choice for wealthy tourists but also those who are curious – as they do glass blowing “shows.” Burano is less touristy, but tours can still be taken to see the lace workers on the job. I had come to see the glass blowers actually blow glass. However, Dr. Bane and Paulette had talked about how they will try to show you to a big show room, give you champagne, and look at things that are over 1000 Euro. I saw people waving people in, and I ignored them, thinking they were trying to steal my money or make me buy something I didn’t want to. When I realized that I was so afraid of being conned into a bad situation I wasn’t seeing anything, I decided I didn’t need to be there. I had called Natalie, trying to meet up with them, but it turns out I was on the wrong side of the island anyway. So I hopped on the next boat to the Lido – after I’d gotten a coke.
When I got to Lido, I’m not really sure what happened. I got on the right bus, but not at the right stop. So I waited for a bus to go the other way since I’d gone too far. The bus I got on took me in a complete opposite direction than I thought it should have, so I ended up having to take another bus back to S.M.E. I finally got the right bus, go to the Hotel Meridiana, went up to my room, and got a call from Dr. Bane asking if I was coming back. So I stayed for literally five minutes, went back out the door, and waited for the bus. The bus I needed didn’t come, so I had to walk back to S.M.E. – only 15 -20 minutes this time. I took the Accademia vaparetto and as soon as I stepped off, Dr. Bane and Paulette were there waiting for me. Turns out they had already done the Accademia and the Peggy Guggenheim museum. We all went out for gelato, but went ahead and got Giuandotto or something to that effect. It’s a treat only served in Venice. Basically they take a huge slab of chocolate, cut off a rectangle, and drop it in a cup of cream. It was good, but I didn’t want to finish it because I’m not that huge of a fan of chocolate. Then we all decided to go back to the Rialto Bridge to shop a little.
When we got off at the Rialto Bridge, a change place on the side said the exchange rate there was 1.50. I started freaking out and I called my mom to warn her she might have to help me out with the exchange rate going up. Dr. Bane and Paulette offered to spot me until Florence in case the exchange rate was lower there. I went to a couple of shops and bought some glass animal families for gifts and myself a masque. Dr. Bane had started gathering people to go on a gondola ride and to figure out who all wanted to go to dinner (I hadn’t eaten anything substantial yet at this point). Our reservations were for 9:30, so we could go on a gondola ride at around 7:30. We amassed 18 people while Paulette went and bargained with the gondoliers. We got a chain smoker, who only sat on the dock and puffed away. He was certainly good natured though.
We all got into the boat, me last. When I sat down he said it wouldn’t work and wanted me to switch with someone across the boat. One of the scariest moments in my life trying to walk across a gondola, but I made it without any tipping. Then we set sail through Venice. We got to see the water damage up close, which ended up being my interest throughout the entire ride. It was so quiet, though. The gondolier would occasionally point out one of the houses of Marco Polo (which prompted us to sing, “Marco Polo One, Marco Polo Two, Marco Polo Three,” and so on) as well as the Rialto Bridge and the Bridge of Sighs. It was a fun ride and I might like to do it again sometime.
Btw, the gondoliers don’t sing anymore. They have a separate company for it, whom they have to call. They’ll send out an accordion player and a singer, who sit in the boat with you with the gondolier. So no, there was no singing. But we tried to get them to.
After all of the gondola rides, we took off a brisk pace to get to this excellent restaurant Paulette and Dr. Bane kept talking about. We went the wrong way two or three times. When we finally got there, there were 12 of us and they volunteered at table for all of us instead of the original nine on the reservation if we would wait 10 more minutes. We did and then went up to the second floor of the restaurant. It was the first time I was going to eat all day, so I got salmon pasta and sautéed mushrooms. Good lord, I’ve never seen so much pasta on one plate for one person. It was huge and extremely good.
After dinner, we all went to the dock and hopped on the boat. Dr. Bane showed me where I needed to get off if I wanted to go to Lido Casino, but I decided to go on with the rest of them and either catch the bus or walk home. I ended up doing the latter, but it was safe or I wouldn’t have even mentioned it. I was exhausted from my long day and was completely ready to go to bed. Instead, I went downstairs and used the Wi-Fi, trying to get my money’s worth. The clerk happened to be asleep on the couch when I came in, and hopped up when he heard me like he’d never been asleep. Then he started to come back into the room and groaned when he saw I was still there. About 10 minutes later, he came back with a pillow and asked if I was going to go to bed. He laid down on the couch and I just stared at him (all of the passports that people had given for their room keys were still in open cubby holes next to the unlocked front door) and said, “Hopefully.” He asked me when I checked out. I told him and he grunted and went back to sleep. When I went to bed he told me bye.
Posted by
Unknown
8:55 AM
6-15-07
CT 6:21
IT 1:21
Venetian Labyrinth and the Sick Whit-Whit
My first day in Venice! So much to tell.
This morning we met at the train station at 8:15 for our 8:37 departure. On the way there, my alarm that I had snoozed and reset continuously started going off in the side pocket of my backpack. I reached around to get it and fumbled it – right onto the pavement. The screen is all blank except for the time and weird strips of LCD. I didn’t let it slow me down (I remembered putting insurance on it) – I was off to Venice.
On the train I rode with Halley, Caitlin, and Kim on my side of the aisle and Rachel, Kara, Megan, and Kate on the other side. We talked initially, but one by one sleep took hold of us until even I had to give in. It was so uncomfortable to sleep that way, as the seats don’t recline, and we all woke up not too long after we had started. We tried to play a game of Spades before we made it to the right Venice train station, but we didn’t have enough time.
When we first stepped out of the train station, I was taken by a smidge of awe. Right before us was our first Venetian waterway. Private boats, water taxis (like regular taxis but with higher fees and… in the water), vaparettos (water buses), and gondolas all converging in some strange superhighway. I got even more excited, but in a weird dreamy way.
Dr. Bane told us about our options for vaparetto passes to get back and forth from our hotel island, Lido. It would cost 30 Euro for a 72 hr. pass that would expire the day after we left, but it would cost 25 Euro for a 48 hr. pass that would expire three hours before we left on Sunday. We decided to wait a few hours and then get the 48 hr. pass and save 5 Euro. We traveled down the first of many winding streets, looking for a place to eat because we were so hungry. Paulette explained to one of the waiters that tried to stop us that we were all poor students. The guy decided to cut us a deal for 10 Euro a person – drink and pasta or pizza. We jumped on it (as it usually turns out to be that much after we split a check), and found out we were perhaps mistaken. Those who had ordered pasta were especially disappointed as it was most certainly a “European portion.” My pizza was bigger but not nearly as big as some I’ve seen. It wasn’t even very spicy for a “Diavolo” pizza, but it was still good. I drank water, so I didn’t get the 10 Euro worth in my opinion.
Afterwards we found 1 Euro gelato and ate it while we watched the pigeons be pigeons. Dr. Bane came and got us after he and Paulette had finished eating dinner. While we were waiting on them, the few art people that had come called us and said that there reservations had been cancelled for some reason and they would probably need a place to stay. I immediately said no, because, as will be seen, I was already thinking about smuggling in two people. We all headed back to the booth, only to find out that we could get a student discount, but that we would have to wait another 45 minutes for that ticket booth to open. It would be the 72 hr for 22 Euro. We all decided to wait the 45 minutes for the 3 Euro difference (counting it in gelatos, of course). I sat on the steps of the train station while others went and shopped. After 2:00, we all met back and waited for the office to open at 2:15. Since we were going to try and sneak people in (Kim and Caitlin with me, Halley and Natalie with Rachel), we had to go together to establish a plan. We all jumped on the vaparetto, not knowing when more water buses would run for Lido island. We made it with less than a minute to spare.
Thus our first look at Venezia began. It was so fascinating to see how steps that used to be above water were now well below, and how doors that had once been portals into houses and shops were now eaten away by the all-consuming Adriatic Sea. There was no mercy for finer art either, as some of the most historic buildings that we passed had two and three steps under water – and that was what we could see from a boat. It was insane and odd to see, but so beautiful.
When we finally got to Lido, we had to pow-wow about who was staying with whom. Halley, Kim, Natalie, and Caitlin hadn’t made reservations, so Rachel and I were going to smuggle two in at each hotel. However, Dr. Bane was able to make a deal for 50 Euro a night for two of them to stay in an extra room at his bed and breakfast (it was more like a condo). Caitlin and Kim, the two that would have stayed with me, took the offer. In the meantime, Rachel was searching frantically for her phone – then we found out she had lost it. Halley and Natalie stayed with her, and I started off toward my hotel. There was a sign nearby that had nearly all of the hotels on the island on it, and it said mine was straight ahead. Dr. Bane had told it was a small island, so I walked. How far could it be?
It actually ended up being 30-45 minutes of walking for me to get there. We had been let off at Santa Maria Elisabetta, and I had to get to the very end of Via Lepanto for my hotel. The way I went turned out to be the longest way I could have possibly gone, but that’s what I get for following the sign. I was fine with it because I got to see a good portion of Lido on “walking tour.” It was so quiet. The loudest sound I heard on my walk (besides people) was a bicycle’s tires on the pavement. That’s it. That’s why the city is called Venezia Serenissima (lit. “Very Serene Venice”). The address for the Hotel Meridiana was 45 Lepanto, which seems like it wouldn’t be very far away. Turns out that all of the buildings on Lepanto at least are numbered with letters (i.e. 33a, 33b, 33c, 33d). When I finally made it to the hotel (which happened to be the very last building on the street), I felt a mix of disappointment and relief that it was all over. But the day was getting hot very fast, so I headed in anyway.
Check-in was rather uneventful. She asked for my passport as collateral for the key, but I shook my head. They’ve put the fear of God in me about these passports. She took my license instead, which was just fine with me. She told me “down the corridor, 3rd floor” for my room no. 35. I went down the first corridor and up to the third floor without even looking at the numbers. When I got up there, all of the doors were numbered in the 20s. I looked at the key, then back at the doors. Key. Doors. Then I thought, “Oh, maybe she meant what the 3rd floor would be in America,” (if you didn’t know, the floor you walk to from outside is usually ground floor or Floor 0 in Europe). So I went back down from what could have possibly been the 4th floor to the 3rd floor. Those numbers were in the teens. I was getting really frustrated, but then I remembered at the Hotel Tiziano in Rome that the first floor that had rooms was numbered in the 600s. Maybe the first room floor was actually numbered as the highest. Proud at my pulling of information from my experiences here, I went down to the first floor and saw single digit numbers.
Aggravated to no end, I went back up to the third floor (the European one – 3rd piano in Italian) and tried room 25, hoping that it was just a typo. No luck. Then I went back down to the second floor and tried 15. Then the first and tried 5. I was at an utter and complete loss of what to do. I went up and down the stair cases a couple more times before I swallowed my pride and stupidity to go ask. When I got down to the ground floor, I looked next to the stair case that I had just come down and saw another corridor. I went to this area and traveled down a few corridors until I found another staircase. Figuring why not, I went up to the first floor. Sure enough, there were more numbers. I kept climbing and got to the third floor. A man was there, singing in Italian and fixing something around the ceiling. I excused myself by him and his ladder, then had to excuse myself back through. There was no 35. The last number was 34. I had been so absorbed in finally getting to the third floor that I had totally ignored that there was another section of stair case, which spiraled up. Suspicious, I went up the staircase. Sitting at the top, as pretty as you please, was number 35. I was on the fourth piano – the one that didn’t exist in the other part of the hotel. After about 10 minutes of struggling to open the door, I burst through exhausted. Thus began my stay at the Hotel California.
I called Dr. Bane (I only had to push down because his was the first in my phone book) and he told me to meet them where we had been dropped off, but that I could use the bus because the vaparetto passes included bus fare. So I asked where the nearest bus stop was (Via Sandro Gallo) and hit that mother up. The bus that came just happened to be the Circulolare or something to that effect, and it made (*gasp*) a circle around the island back to S.M.E. I hopped on, started reading Italo Calvino for class (I was trying to impress the Italians that I was reading one of their major authors), and rode straight to the S.M.E. Dr. Bane was there with crew in tow, but Rachel and Halley were gone to go get something of Rachel’s. Because one of them had forgotten something, we missed the boat and had to wait 30 minutes for another one. Dr. Bane was not happy.
Anyway, the boat ride back over was rather uneventful. Dr. Bane told me about the Jewish Ghetto in Venice, which is the oldest in the world, and that he would take whoever wanted to go. I was all for it (of course), so we made tentative plans to go on Saturday. When we got back to Venice, we went straight to the most romantic spot in the world – St. Mark’s Square (or Piazza San Marco – the only piazza in Venice, actually). It was still daytime, but Dr. Bane said that at night there are string quartets and bands playing all around the square and they light the whole thing with soft white light. He also said that’s where he proposed to Paulette (which everyone AWWed at). The other thing St. Mark’s is known for is the pigeons. There are those places in major cities across the world where feeding pigeons is entertainment. This was where the pigeons would fly into the hand to eat corn. It was awesome. Though I think pigeons are freaky-looking birds (red eyes?), I was excited to be able to feed them. They don’t hurt because they want yellow stuff not pink (that’s the scientific explanation – ask the people with blond hair how much fun it was and they’ll give you a different answer).
How to get a bird in the hand (or even five, as we were soon to see):
1. Put corn into both hands.
2. Shake hands to let a little corn out so they birds know that you have some.
3. Wait patiently.
4. Don’t scream when they land on you. Apparently this is harder than it sounds. I witnessed those with difficulty.
5. If you want them to leave, do a “falconer”: move your hand down and then thrust it upward. The bird will get the hint and flap its wings. I say flap because the damn things were so fat they couldn’t fly but a few feet.
We all fed the pigeons and had little red marks on our arms from the bird claws, but they went away within the hour. There were literally thousands of birds in the square. It was so odd but very awesome.
After St. Mark’s we decided to go find something to eat. Dr. Bane led us as usual, but this time we found ourselves lost within the first few turns. We got to see the Rialto Bridge and do some window shopping, but we weren’t meaning to sightsee. We were trying to find a restaurant that was cheap, but none of them fit the bill. We had already spent 10 Euro, so it felt stupid to spend more than 20 on two meals when we had stuff at home. Paulette really needed to eat, so we finally found a place with decent prices. Paulette and I were discussing Italian cuisine, and she said Venice’s specialty would have something to do with seafood. So I got the seafood pizza (Frutti de Mare). For your own safety, do not do this. Paulette ordered pasta with black sauce. Afterwards, she was wondering what it was and I quoted Cooking Mama’s Cookoff, where black sauce was squid ink. She nearly hurled right then and there, waved the waiter over, and changed her order. I should have done the same.
The pizza came and I’m surprised every bit of seafood wasn’t walking or crawling off of my plate. The clams and mussels came still in the shell but baked into the pizza, along with shrimp and calamari (evident by tentacles). It was the Pizza from Hell, and I had to eat it or I would waste nearly 12 Euro. So I began by digging all that I could out of the shells and putting those aside. I then bent over the pizza to eat it, but found I couldn’t breathe in the fumes or it would make me sick. That many pieces of seafood are not meant to mix, I soon found out.
I ate most of the pizza, but I couldn’t a) look at the pizza, b) smell the pizza, or c) eat the pizza properly (I had to role up the pieces so I didn’t see what I was eating). I should have taken those three signs as divine intervention, but I could not manage to convince myself not to eat it because of the money. Anyway, my meal came out to 20 Euro, which is about 30 USD (it doesn’t take much to spend all your money here). I felt fine when we left, but soon my body retaliated with a vengeance.
Everyone else wanted dessert. I agreed to walk with them, but as we were walking I started feeling sick. When we sat down at the table, I wasn’t even able to look at food. At this point my stomach wasn’t too bad, but it wasn’t enjoyable either. After everyone ate dessert, we left for St. Mark’s and the vaparetto dock. By this time, I’m getting extremely sick and don’t know how long I can keep walking. I tried to sit down, but my stomach fought me. I was reduced to pacing in a circle, never stopping. My entire chest cavity felt like a swirling mass of sick, but I wanted to wait. Maybe I could get back in time. We walked through St. Mark’s at its most romantic, lights turned on and five or six string quartets playing different pieces in this beautifully dissonant swirl of sound, but I couldn’t stop and listen.
We found out the bus was going to a place called Lido Casino. None of us knew where it was. It was deemed too far from where most of us lived, so we didn’t take it. And it was another hour at that dock for one going to Lido S.M.E. I could not wait an hour. I still didn’t know if the mass was going to go up or down, but I knew I had to find a bathroom or I was literally going to die, or a facsimile thereof.
While we were still trying to figure out where to go, a lady in the square pulled out a mouse marionette and was making it dance to music. She made it dance really well to techno music, but then played Sinatra’s “Amore” and made him dance to that. It was really cute, and I got video of it even though I was, again, dying. I heard Paulette ask where everyone was, and I pointed behind me. I thought all of us were watching the puppet, but when I looked up, everyone was gone. I looked both ways up the dock and didn’t see a single soul I knew. I was extremely upset and didn’t know what else to do, so I went to a restaurant and said, “Table for one. Do’ve bagno?”
When I came back from the bathroom, I was still not feeling much better. I had to order something, though. So I chose to get what the waiter called a mousse (it was a flan, the filthy liar) and a water, thinking I might need it. I couldn’t finish the dessert or the water. I got the check and it was 10 Euro. I left the water 1.50 because he had to wait on me. What does that mean? I spent 12 Euro to use a bathroom.
I used it again before I left (on principle – I had just paid a small fortune to do so) and headed back to the dock. It still said Lido Casino and the boat was going to be there in less than 10 minutes. I decided to risk it, hoping the Lido meant that I would at least be on the right island, and hoped that I was going to be okay.
When we pulled up to Lido Casino, I looked at my map and found out that I was less than two blocks away from my hotel. I could have gotten back with no problem whatsoever over an hour beforehand. I went in the door at the hotel and the clerk stopped me. With his broken English, the following conversation too place.
“Ah! You!” I come over to the desk.
“Yes?”
“Ehhhhh… They call for you!’
“Who called for me?”
“I donno. But they call.”
“Okay…”
“Ehhh… sign here.” I sign and he gets frustrated. “No! Here too!” I sign twice and he gives me back my license.
“Thanks…”
“They look for you!”
It was obvious who had called, but I was confused on how they found my hotel. So I hurried as fast as I could and called Dr. Bane. He answered with, “Where have you been?” I explained that I was back at the hotel and that I got sick. He said that they were on their way to go file a police report, Paulette was crying, everyone thought I was sick, dead, or mugged. I was surprised that had called my parents to say I was MIA.
Dr. Bane explained that while we were all watching the puppet, Paulette had come back to say that she had found us a boat that would go back to Lido S.M.E. Dr. Bane had called her over and Paulette had gone, thinking I was behind her. When they realized I wasn’t with them, they went to find me and couldn’t. They went all over Venice and were about to go file a police report with the Carabinieri near the dock when I called. He said that they called everyone trying to find out where I was staying and the best anyone came up with was “Mariana.” They called Jennifer Rospert, one of the art professors who went to Venice, and she got a phonebook. The closest one was Meridiana, so they called and the clerk wasn’t very helpful. I then told him what I had done, and Dr. Bane handed the phone to an upset Paulette so I could tell her I was okay but sick. We wished each other goodnight, I apologized, and hung up.
I decided to go take a shower because I was exhausted and wanted to go to bed. I turned on the TV to “7 GOLD” beforehand. When I came back in, there were nude people on my screen. My first thought was, “Oh my God, I’m paying for this.” But then I realized there were no nude men, and only topless woman – which is classified as “partial nudity.” Then I realized it wasn’t pay-per-view or anything like that, but a really cheesy, over-the-top, poor quality, Lifetime-esque early 90s movie in Italian. When I realized all of this, I decided to watch anyway – simply because you would never see anything like that on American television. The plotline was great, too: a woman seduces a man into a life of sultry and sordid sexual escapades. She even convinces him to invite another woman into their bed. However, for everything she did for him, she made him do spectacularly uncharacteristic things of this upper-middle class businessman: steal from a jewelry store, fence the same jewelry at a clandestine location, and agree to help her out when she needed it. When they guy goes to fence the jewels, he has a quick interlude with the female fence, and his girlfriend goes haywire (since she was waiting in the car the entire time). Anyway, it turns out that the guy’s crazy girlfriend is not just schizo (he looks it up in a medical dictionary, so I, the viewer, could understand his thoughts) but a witch as well, and she had murdered the girl that she and the guy had slept with. She finds out he knows, ties him up, punches him in the shoulder and the groin with a sharpened stiletto and beats him with a fireplace poker. He gets loose from the ties and has a fight with her. There’s a knife involved, the guy gets stabbed in the shoulder, they tango out to the balcony, he screams for help (a woman who wants to be involved with him suspects something when he doesn’t show up for work or some such nonsense, and calls the police over there), the girl comes after him, and he launches her off the balcony. In a cheesy three cut sequence, we see her begin to fall, a body falling through mid-air, and a body on the ground. Then the movie ends.
I said long-story short, and I only lied a bit. I left out lots of juicy details. But yeah, it was one of those movies that simply watching and not knowing the language told you as much or more than the dialogue would have. I even forgot I was watching in Italian once or twice.
