theoretical wake up call

Sure enough, 3am. This was not a happy group.

An hour of sleep is not enough to do much of anything on. The hour from 2:00 to 3:00 should not be the only hour of sleep in anyone's night, much less one before you get on a bus for an hour and then zombie around tiny Gatwick airport for another 2. The hotel gave us a miserable ham sandwich breakfast in a bag, I'm still waiting for a real meal today. The plane food on this flight was hideous. I'm biding my time for some 3 euro panini or something in Venice.


The sound of birds singing echoed through the walkway, as if to wish us good morning.

The tea, however, is delightful as always.

I think I'll finish my tea and The Graduate.

goodbye Kansas

Or, where did all the English go?


We rode a charter boat into Venice. It took a while, but was a great way to get off the ground and be reminded that Venice is still an island. We got to see the islands coming in and get familiar with the area.

Venice is lovely and very crowded. It does not stink. It does not glow with effuvescent romance, nor is it a sinking mess. It's kind of like Disneyland Italia - it's so small, so isolated, that it has a character all its own. It does not have to be a working city, as all the money it could need goes directly into retail. It's actually more remarkable that people live here than not, as it is so small, so expensive, and so tourism-centric.

If you've ever been to a theme park, preferably a Disney one, that has an Italy section, imagine that forever. The exposed brickwork under plaster, the flower boxes and wrought-iron railings on the windows, and clotheslines stretching across the canals all come from this very real, very dense living city. Now throw in some New York skyscraper alleyways, except instead of height, the alleyway is 6 feet wide, and you've got Venice.


The view from my hotel room. On a clear day I could see the big dome on Basilica della San Marco.


This alley had our favorite rosticceria and the best restaurant we found, the Aquila Nera. Thanks, Bill!

It's funny how romanticised America's image of this city is. It is beautiful, and a lifetime of seeing prints, etc. with these images cheapens them in some ways. Standing on the Rialto bridge facing the grand canal, one is struck by how much it looks just like the bloody postcards.


But this is what it looked like when I was there, not when some fancy professional photographer was.

But then something remarkable happens: you turn around. Life beyond the edges of the postcards is really where the adventure begins here.



For instance, when you turn around at the top of the Rialto, you can buy a fake Burberry purse for 200 euros. Just don't get caught. Also, the bridge only fits 10 people across, so you can't hang around and soak up the view. This is not a city designed to cash in on its assets. It is a city built on its original principles, which due to its construction, cannot significantly change. One cannot exactly demolish a building in Venice.

When you pass the row of Dolce & Gabbana stores and find yourself in the narrow and safe alleyways of real Venezia, it starts to feel like a forgotten city. Step too far out your door, and it's the 17th century. Smell the green Adriatic, and believe.