Venice - Pub Crawl! (a.k.a. Cicchetti)

After my taxing day of laying on the beach and trying to control the impulse to scratch all my mosquito bites (which, when you have there everywhere, really is a full-time job), I decided it was finally time for my pub crawl (for some reason Peter - I feel like you would be excited about this).

Ideally, I would have liked to do this with a group of friends. But seeing as I don't have a group of friends on this continent, I had to suck it up and go on my own. However, I was hopeful that I might make some friends along the way.

Rick (Steves) says that the stand-up progressive pub-crawl dinner is a Venetian classic. What is known as "cichetti" bars have a standing zone where you can order mini eats and drinks and socialize with the crowd. After sampling a few of each, you move on to the next pub and sample a few more. It's a cheap, social, fun way to have a meal. Other than the part about standing, I was quite excited.

Rick listed several cichetti places for me to try, so I decided to dive right on in. The first one was called Osteria al Bomba and was supposed to be one of the cleaner, slightly better options. I decided this was a good place to start so I could see what I was getting myself into. It was tucked away, "near" the Rialto Bridge, so after some significant wandering, I finally found it.

I walk in and there isn't a soul in the joint, save for the bar tender. I panic and ask to use the bathroom instead of ordering. As I wind my way through the entire restaurant...still no one to be found. Hmmm. Rick says this place is usually a great place to go - lots of locals. Go figure.

After using the facilities, I decide to give it a go anyway. I've been alone for three weeks, what's another few minutes in this joint? I order a Proscecco (the native wine my friend from Mozambique taught me about) and casually sip as I check out the eats (which are all on display under the glass bar). While I'm perusing, a woman comes in and orders some wine and food, eats in a blaze of furry and peaces out before I have finished my tiny wine. That was weird (and the exact opposite of what I thought this was supposed to be). I still don't know what to get and now my wine glass is empty, so again I have a moment of mini-panic and just order the house red. Oh well, might as well get a little loopy while I try and figure this local custom out.

I end up not getting any food because, I want to meet some people, dangit! And hangin' around this joint isn't going to help me accomplish that goal. So I pay my bill (a whopping 3 EU for two glasses of wine - so cheap!) and head to the next establishment. This one has got to be better, right?

This second choice isn't nearly so off the beaten path and I find it quickly (which is good because with no food and two glasses of wine in my stomach - I'm a little wobbly). This place has a bit more of a "chain restaurant" feel. The service is quick, it's brightly lit, and the wait staff all match. I step up to the bar and order the house red (because it's just easier that way) and promptly pay my 1 EU for it. I try to "casually stand" and feel local, but I just feel like I'm in the way. So under the pretense of perusing the food, I walk around a bit. But then I spy that yummy squid in the black ink again and my eyes light up and I'm suddenly starving. I grab a stool by the bar (not too far from a cute employee taking a break), catch the waiter's eye and order my black deliciousness. He asks me something I don't understand and I just shrug and say yes. Whatever.

I try to somehow connect with cute-employee-on-break, but he is looking only at his food (which I know is amazing and all, but com'mon - throw me a bone here pal). Fine, whatever. In the mean time, a cute boy from Australia and his mom come in. I watch as they try to figure out how to order and comically miscommunicate culturally with the bar tender (lots of repeating the question and giving different answers every time).

As I'm doing this, my food arrives and I'm surprised to see it with a side of polenta. Ohhh, so that's what he was asking me! Alright then - a side of polenta it is; I'm game. I dig in and notice the Australian is just standing there, waiting for his food, so I give him my opener: Hi - :) Like any red-blooded English speaker, he responds with "How's it going?" and we chat for a bit. I end up telling him about the black delicousness and all its glory and to not be scared, but to just try it. I think he looks skeptical, but figure, well - it's up to him if he wants to expand his horizons, all I can do is give him some good advice.

When his food comes, he pulls a very suave, "And could you give me some of that squid with the ink?" in a very I'll-have-what-she's-having kind of way. I smile and am flattered he is so boldly taking my advice. Alright, now we're talkin'! He takes his food back to the table where his "mum" is sitting in two trips and on the second one he says, "Well, bye then," and doesn't even give me a second glace. Pfffft!

So I hop off my stool (mildly put-off) and head for pub number three. (Third time's the charm. This is gonna be great. Here we go!) I stumble off in the direction I think I should be going, but quickly realize I've already passed it. Retracing my steps, I discover it's practically next door to the second place - d'oh! I boldly walk in and finally discover what I had been anticipating: a local pub full with the sounds of people eating, plates clattering, drinks clinking and a subtle murmur of laughter amongst it all. The air is warm and thick with the humidity of so many people in a small place and I'm relieved (and excited!) to discover the whole scene.

Again I order the house red and the bar tender asks me if I want to drink it outside. It's pretty hot in there, so I say, Sure! Why not? He hands me my wine in a plastic cup and out I go. There are at least three groups of people standing around, chatting and enjoying the cool night air. But I quickly realize, most of them are smoking - d'oh! That's probably why they're out here. Obviously I'm not gonna smoke, so now I feel kind of dumb for going outside, but oh well. I keep my chin up and try to get a feel for who might be friendly.

But in the end, everyone seems pretty involved in their own dialogue. I'm too shy with my italian to go up to any of them and start a conversation and apparently putting out the "Hey! I'm cute and nice, come talk to me!" vibe isn't very effective in this scenario. So I finish my wine, toss my cup and navigate my way through the windy, narrow streets back home.

It wasn't exactly what I had been hoping for, but it was a good night nonetheless. I ventured out; I tried something new. And really, that was my goal. I didn't really meet any locals, but that's not really in my control. I still felt the night was a success.