On to Venice

We came by train to Venice on Saturday night, sharing our two bunk-bed compartment with a couple, two forty-ish French fellows. One had little English but the other was relatively conversant. They were very pleasant and polite but we were all rather awkward with one another. It’s a fairly small space in which to share the various intimacies of spending a night together, but we all managed in quite a civilized manner. The car next to ours had a small dining room and a take-out spot. We purchased things for our supper and again for breakfast, eating standing up at the bar provided. Washrooms with toilettes were available at the ends of each car as well as two other small rooms with just sinks and mirrors. The upper berths were more commodious than the lowers, which were really just the seats used during the day: little room, little comfort; not too much sleep. In the morning we packed up and said goodbye to our night’s companions who had come to Venice for a week’s holiday, climbed down from the train and headed across the Grand Canal to find our hotel, the Airone, opposite the train station. On the front door was a sign instructing us to apply to the Canal Hotel a few doors down the quay. There we were registered and told to return after 1PM to be assigned our room. As we had several hours to wait we hopped on the local bus – a vaparetto, a long and narrow ferry boat – and cruised the length of the canal to St Mark’s. It was a Sunday and the areas around the cathedral and in the square were packed. We made our way toward the far end of the square from where a good view of the façade of the church is possible, making ourselves comfortable on the steps leading to the shops in the colonnade behind. In short order we were told by a uniformed warden that sitting on the steps was forbidden by a city by-law. We moved on, taking our gelato and making for other areas inland from the square, eventually walking back over a succession of bridges and down various passageways until we reached the Canal Hotel. There we were given front door and bedroom keys and sent back to the Airone. Both little hotels are run out of the Canal so no staff is seen here other than the odd sighting of a cleaning lady. Our room is about 8-9 feet wide and maybe 25 feet long. It ends at a tall window overlooking the Grand Canal. We have a sink but share toilet and showering facilities with our co-residents, people whom we also rarely catch sight of. It’s quite pleasant here; the sights and sounds of the canal are intriguing, though across from us is an administrative building, not one of the glorious old palaces further down. Later we walked back across the canal and through a succession of back streets and bridges to San Marco square, by now considerably depleted of the hordes. Three restaurants around the square employ classical musicians to play familiar pieces, enticing tourists to sit outside at their tables and enjoy their hospitality. Few comply as the fare is understandably expensive, but many stand about enjoying the music and unashamedly applauding the musicians. Theoren and I had had several pleasant moments in just such a manner, sitting on the steps just off to one side. Emily and I did the same. That evening there was only one group playing and there were no patrons sitting with them: further signs of the struggling economy? During the night I had a strange health occurrence – not to be gone into here and not by any means life-threatening, but concerning enough that at 4AM I had to rouse Emily and head off to the hospital emergency. It was raining slightly but we made our way to Piazzale Roma and were told by a helpful taxi driver that there was a hospital in the lagoon (ie, we wouldn’t have to leave the islands for help); we stirred a boat-taxi driver from his sleep and he drove us there – 50 Euros! The staff was helpful; we were there for about 6 hours; a nurse found an extra chair and a pillow and blanket for Emily so that she could doze while waiting for me. After a series of tests, including an ultra-sound, I was given a prescription for anti-biotics and sent on my way with a bill for 111.65 Euros – which I didn’t consider unreasonable given the care and diagnostic expertise shown.

It rained a lot that day, our second in Venice and we were both very tired after our strange night so we mostly stayed in our cozy spot and snoozed and read. The third day the weather was lovely and we walked about a great deal, visiting the San Marco cathedral and shopping for Emily’s presents for family and friends in the Rialto area. We bought sandwiches and pizza and picnicked out, adding gelato to the menu every now and then. Later we stopped into the train station to purchase our tickets to Florence for the next day, Thursday. The tickets are bought simply in a machine something like those in which we buy movie tickets. In the evening we organized our belongings and generally got ready for the trip the next day.