SB09 Italy Part II: Venice

When you walk out of the train station in Venice you are dumped right next to the Grand Canal and it hits you immediately: you are some place completely different than anywhere you've ever been. The nine of us poured out of the train station and immediately took off our top layer as the sun in Venice was warm and generous. I say the nine of us because Brandon didn’t make it Venice. He had a rough one the night before and when we left the hostel at o’dark hundred that morning he woke up long enough to say, “I’ll meet you in Florence,” and rolled back over, again submitting to the will of the Universe.

We took a water taxi from the train station to our hostel area. The trip there was absolutely incredible, the bright sun, the shimmering green water and the pale paint of buildings with wet front porches crept along with us as we stole pictures of the beauty. 5 minutes and probably 15 pictures into of the taxi ride I confessed to my friend Steve, who was also taking picture after, "this whole city is a photo." It really is, it's hard to take bad photos in this city. Does it smell? a little in some spots. Is it efficient? not even a little bit. Is it simply a drop dread gorgeous city? Without question.

Venice was really quite lovely and as much as I enjoy my good friend Brandon Curry, having him not make the trip let me get out on my own without the group and explore at my own pace. I wandered over canals and through the tight, winding streets, stopping to take pictures and duck into art galleries. Including this one tobiarava.com. I bought a poster of a blue wood comprised of numbers. In my wanderings I also found a museum that brought the sketches of Leonardo Da Vinci to life with interactive models aka a nerd's paradise. I also dropped into a bookstore with English books and bought called Venitian Stories by Jane Turner Rylands, a fun little book which is even more fun when you're actually in Venice. The opening story was set on the same street as our hostel, molta bella.

All in all Venice was just remarkably pleasant. It is a small city with a laid back attitude and while Milan had unapproachable high fashion, the artsy scene in Venice was considerably more pedestrian and accommodating. I saw St. Mark's and was blown away by the gold mosaics, I was stunned grandeur and enormity of the Doge's Palace, I shopped on the Rialto, and but mostly I watched languidly as gondoliers slid noiselessly through the maze of the canals. Images of a much older, much wealthier me living in Venice crossed my mind over and over again. It is a true testament to how much I enjoyed Venice to have a fantasy of buying a house in a city that is yielding to the ocean everyday. I've lived in growing cities, dying cities, and cities on life support, but none of them are anything like the city that is sinking.