Venice - Last Day

For my final day in Venice, I decided to give the sights a chance. So far I had mostly spent my time being lost in the city and/or shopping. I figured, several million people love this city, perhaps I ought to see what some of the infamous hub-a-bub is all about.

I got up early and out of the fosterria (church-hostel-y-thing I was staying at) by 9:30 so I would be among the first of the day to be let into St. Mark's. Even though I had visited the church already, the experience was less than satisfying. Besides, after a particularly good email description from my mom about how it seemed "the walls were steeped in prayer" I felt a return visit was mandatory.

As I stepped out of the fosterria and into the narrow walkway I discovered it was a foggy and nearly rainy day. This cheered my mood instantly. It's counter-intuitive, but having spent my entire life in the Pacific Northwest, a little downcast weather is always good for my soul. Suddenly, I felt right at home.

The weather was doubly advantageous as it significantly decreased the size of the crowds. Yes, things were definitely looking up. And look up I did, right into the golden mosaics that St. Mark's has to offer. This time (without the mobs of people thrusting me forward) I was able to see what Rick Steves (and my mom) were talking about. I discovered both the story of Adam and Eve as well as the depiction of Noah, which I had been unable to find* the first time around.

The interior was still roped off in a one-way, brief path through the church, but this time I opted for the 4 EU detour to see the original bronze horses and "museum" in the upper level of the church. What I didn't know was that this detour also offers you bird's eye views of both the interior of the church as well as of Piazza San Marco. Well worth the price of a spendy cappuccino and a steep stair climb. So this is what everyone was talking about....

From there I headed over to the Ducale Palace (or Duke's Palace). This was a bit pricey to enter, but relatively fun to tour. I saw the world's largest oil painting (Jesus and Mary surround by 500 saints in heaven), a revolutionary sculpture of Adam and Eve, and a whole other host of priceless works of art.

The Correr Museum (included in the cost of the Ducale Palace) ended up being a total bore (not worth it at all, in my opinion) and after about 10 minutes I made it a speed-walking tour (too bad it's not like Ikea with those convenient short cuts....). As planned, from there I headed for the Accedemia Bridge and settled in for a quick lunch before setting off again to find the Frari Church. Unfortunately, even after asking for directions three separate times, it eluded me. In fact, I somehow ended up back at the train station. (If you've been to Venice before, you know that St. Mark's is NOT near the train station.) So I gave up, hopped on a vaporetto (sans ticket - forgive me!), successfully navigated my way back to the fosterria, grabbed my bags and got right back on a vaporetto (with a ticket!) to the train station. Whew! It had been a full day.

All in all - Venice was a tough one for me. The feeling of complete and total disorientation was uncomfortable and I certainly didn't adjust well to it. However, I came to appreciate the nooks and crannies of Venice. Each "neighborhood" (for lack of a better word) had its own distinct pulse and personality. I can appreciate that. And as I began to learn my way through the twisty, turn-y lanes, I caught a glimpse of how tourists must appear to the natives: both a source of amusement, as time and again you watch them take a few steps in one direction, scratch their heads, consult their map, and then determinedly change course; as well as a source of frustration, as they walk in gaggles two or three deep in a three foot wide ally effectively blocking your passage, or slowly, slowly...slowly coming to a stop and becoming a speed bump right in front of you. They make you smile knowingly as you casually walk past, as well as grit your teeth as you (hopefully) politely walk around. And in fact, all of this I liked more than what people usually flock to Venice to see. However, I can't say I particularly liked Venice. But then, I can't say I didn't like it either. I'm not sorry I visited, but I'm also not sorry to go. My feelings about the city are completely luke-warm; a strange and completely unanticipated conclusion. Let's hope the other big cities on my itinerary don't leave me feeling similarly unfulfilled.

*Largely because I was looking in the wrong place. I still blame the crowd.

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.

Venice - Beach Day!!

I guess I'll have to see the sights tomorrow instead...

Venice - Hands Down: Best Dinner Yet

So last night I opted for an expensive, -whatever-I-want meal instead of the pub crawl because my feet were killing me.  I was too tired to try and pick a place so I decided to find a Rick Steves' recommendation instead.  

Excellent idea.

I actually found the joint (yay me!!!) and ordered completely in italiano (woo hoo!!!)  I have no idea what it is called in English, but it's basically black pasta.  I know, it sounds terrible, right?  But it's so not.  It's black because it is colored with squid ink (I know!  Sounds terrible, but it's SO not!) and really, it looks kind of like noodles in tar.  But BOY! was it delicious!

Now, before you commend me on trying something this new and brave, I had actually previewed a similar dish way back in Cinque Terre when we first met our friends from Florida.  We had swapped tastes: black pasta for anchovies.  So I knew it would be good.  But this particular plate was amazing.  

Plus, this time around it came with squid in it.  And I'm usually a calamari fan, but this was the stinking best squid I've ever had.  And the great thing was, I wasn't starving going into the meal, so I know it was legitmately delicious.  

I paired my meal with a local cab sav and finished it all off with some lemon-y cake-y thing.  Ohhh, sooo goooood.  All of it.  I'm quite sad I didn't have my camera with me so I could document the deliciousness for you all.  Perhaps I'll just have to have it again....

Venice – Room with a View

Unfortunately last night was not as easy breezy as I had planned it. Instead of a simply night posting my blog and the most delicious pizza ever, I was sad to discover that a) the internet in the hostel was down – so I was going to have to go searching and b) my favorite pizza joint wasn’t open – I needed a new plan for dinner.

So I hopped back on the vaporetto toward St. Mark’s and started hunting for internet. I had seen about a ba-jillion of them while I was wandering all day, so I figured it wouldn’t be too hard. 

While I was looking I quickly found my new residence for tomorrow, so I tried to take note of the direct and speedy way I had gotten there. But it seemed, the more I searched for internet – the more elusive it was.

Eventually I did find it (which you may have guessed, seeing as I posted last night), but I was semi-grumpy by the time I was done. Next was dinner – I just ate at the first place that would take me, and though it was good – it wasn’t as good as the night before.

I had felt pretty scraggly the day before (we’re getting very close to laundry time folks) so I decided today to make a real effort to look cute. I pinned my hair half up, put on a cute sweater (to be “local” – it’s not near cold enough for a sweater yet), and tied a scarf around my waist – my small attempt to appear somewhat not blatantly American.

I left the hostel feeling good and confident that I would find this new place in a snap. I had done it the night before, right? Well the rule of thumb tends to be: if you are looking for it, 45 minutes. If you’re not: 10 minutes. I quickly spotted not only the internet place I had used last night, but several other options. My new home? I wasn’t timing, but it was a half hour at least.

I was so hot by the time I was all checked in, I decided gelato was my best bet for breakfast. I found that no problem and pointed to a pastel, sunshine yellow flavor and asked for one scoop. I asked the man serving me, “Que cosa?” What is it? And he said, “Creama,” which I’m pretty sure means cream…so I’m not really sure if I asked what I thought I asked. So I have no idea what flavor it was (I’m simply terrible at identifying things by taste) and can only tell you it was indeed creamy, and delicious. I think my best guess is some kind of vanilla?? (Which would explain why I liked it so much…)

After that I tried to get in the tourist mood (I haven’t seen a single “thing” yet!) and headed for St. Mark’s. The line wasn’t too long, so I got right in. Again, not allowed to take pictures (which – shockingly – does not deter people. I mean, we’re in CHURCH! Talk about an ironic time to disobey the rules…) but the ceilings were all domed and inlaid with gold mosaics – it was pretty impressive.

Unlike all the other churches I have seen though, St. Mark’s was roped off so that you could only follow one path – you weren’t free to roam around and enjoy the art at your own pace and in your own order. 

This obviously irritated me, as I’ve had nothing but two weeks of uninterrupted “be the boss of me, do whatever I want,” but I tried to make the best of it. Unfortunately we were packed in there like cattle and I kept bumping into people and they were bumping into me. I felt like I couldn’t actually appreciate what I was seeing because between the herds of people and uneven floors, I was going to fall down. Additionally they were charging to get into the optional rooms and suddenly it was too much for me. Something about paying for stuff in church seems wrong to me (Jesus and the money-changers? Anyone heard that one?) and I wasn’t enjoying getting shoved around, so I left. I had been in there all of 15 minutes.

I sat down on a make-shift bench and struck up a conversation with this older woman sitting next to me. She was part of a tour group with some friends/family and soon I was surrounded by older women. But they spoke English and they were nice to me, so I soaked up the opportunity for conversation. Soon they were on their way and I was left without an agenda. I reminded myself this was supposed to be a trip about having fun and enjoying Italy, not a trip of “shoulds” so I decided to wander around closer to the Rialto Bridge and see what I could see.

I found where the “market” was and enjoyed the view from the bridge. Ironically, even though everything is more expensive in Venice, this has been where I am most tempted to shop. I didn’t end up buying anything (though I did come close) other than a cup of huge pineapple wedges for 1 EU. Abby, I thought of you the whole time 

After that I found my way back to my new room and “moved in.” (My things were in storage previous – they’d been cleaning.) The new place is highly superior to the hostel and is well worth the extra 3 EU a night (not even taking into account the lack of vaporetto to get there). In fact, I was so happy with my room change, I took a nap. A huge, 4-hour, nap. Now I’m feeling MUCH better.

Tonight – the pub crawl. Either that, or I’m ordering a really expensive dinner and will not feel bad about it. I slept right through lunch and now I’m starving!! Perhaps tomorrow I will finally feel like touring Venice. Or maybe I’ll just go to the beach instead. We’ll see.

Venice is A Maze…(ing)

I managed to find my way to the hostel last night and even took my very first vaporetto ride. These are Venice’s answer to “public transit” when your city’s main street is a canal. They work exactly like the subway or a bus would, only it’s a boat. The crappy thing is – they’re expensive. At 6EU a pop – you’d better really want to get where you’re going. It’s somewhat possible to avoid using them, but that requires more time spending winding through the tiny and confusing streets of Venice.

Unfortunately for me, the hostel is on an adjacent island, so the vaporetto is a must (a fact that would have been good to know earlier, but oh well). But I decide to make the most of it and buy a 24 hour pass so that I can visit all the adjacent islands for one low price.

And that’s what I did today. Well, technically first I took the #2 vaporetto to San Marco (the main part of town) and gave myself a few hours to wander around and (hopefully) get my bearings a bit. Let me tell you – it is NOT hard to get lost here. In fact, I pretty much spent the whole day lost. Here’s a freebie for you: if you don’t like not knowing at least approximately where you are at all times and if inefficiency bothers you – do NOT come to Venice under any circumstances. Despite the views and the fact that the city is literally on the water, it won’t be worth it.

Amidst my wandering I decided to try and locate (sans a real map) the other “hostel” in Venice. I had read that this other option was closer to St. Mark’s, so it would allow me to avoid the spendy vaporetto in the future. After about (I kid you not) two hours, I finally found it. And they even have bed available for tomorrow – yay!! With this news, I confirmed my plan with myself to island hop for the rest of the day. That way by the time by 24 hours is up – I’ll be safely tucked away on the “main land.”

There are three other islands of note: Murano (where the famous Venetian glass is made), Burano, and Torcello. I missed the vaporetto to the third island (Torcello), so I only toured two today – but that was really all I had in me anyway. The islands themselves are not much to brag about, but tourists are given ample opportunity to buy both glass and lace items (their two specialties). I did my fair share of shopping and then was happy to come home.

I’m starting to reach the point where I am craving a bit of normalcy; a bit of sameness and routine. I had figured that I would be able to establish that a bit in the bigger cities (as I will naturally be staying longer), but I don’t know if that will be the case for Venice.

Perhaps it’s because at this moment my feet hurt, I stink, and I’m hungry – but the city is exhausting. It truly is an elaborate labyrinth built to keep you in – I wasn’t pulling your leg. The buildings are quite tall, and the streets between them are quite narrow, so all you can ever see is concrete walls on either side of you (not pictured). There are technically signs everywhere, helping you “navigate” but…they are really more like guidelines. It seems in reality, there are equally as many right turns as there are wrong. Sometimes the signs even read San Marco with an arrow pointing in both directions. Instead of feeling enthusiastic that no matter what I do – I am going the right way, I usually feel a little despondent: as in, the choice is futile. Whether I choose right or left, I am not actually affecting when I will arrive at my destination.

Tomorrow I will swap housing accommodations and either spend the day hitting the main sights – or doing nothing. I have yet to decide how the day will be best spent. For tonight, I was hoping to meet some friends (and possible) do a pub crawl, but despite the several floors of beds, each with several rooms with 16 beds in them….I can’t find anyone to hang out with (that speaks English). So instead I will hit up my new favorite pizza joint next door and try to rest up for tomorrow.