Ken and Elise's trip

Day 17: Venice Day 1

  As usual it was an early start to the day as we needed to catch the train from Milan to Venice--and we were a bit excited. Hey--it’s Venice, how cool is that!

   We were actually staying in a little hotel in Mestre which is just outside Venice. I had found everything in Venice to be horribly expensive, and my trusted resorce, booking.com, had indicated that one could stay in Mestre and easily catch a bus from there to Venice.

  We arrived in Mestre right on schedule and quite pleased with myself, I marched us out of the station and headed right for the hotel. This was going to be easy this time! No more trudging down city streets in the blazing heat dragging our suitcases behind. You see, Genius Elise had emailed the hotel asking for walking directions and this hotel had actually responded. So how hard could it be? The directions said turn left on Piave St. as you come out of the station and walk four blocks to Monte Nero and the hotel would be a few steps to the left on Monte Nero.I came out, spotted Piave St. right away and just like a commanding general, waved my arms and said ”This way!”    Ken, ever the doubting Thomas, asked me if I was quite sure I was on the correct street. “Yes,” I informed him, “this is Piave Street just like the directions said.” So off we went. We walked and we walked. And walked some more. At first, drunk with the heady knowledge that this time we knew where we were going, we had been quite chatty. But as the way grew longer, the sun hotter and the bags heavier, things started getting silent. Finally Ken said, “This is an awful long 4 blocks. I feel as though we have gone at least 8!” Well, much as I hated to say it, I agreed with him. This was just too long. So once again, we resorted to our failsafe solution--we started asking people. It didn’t take too long to discover that this most certainly was not Piave Street and we were going to have to go clear back to the station. I tell you it was a very quiet couple who marched back in the hot sun! Eventually we got there, and I found my secret suspicions were right--I had seen Piave St. but had misinterpreted the direction the arrow to it was pointing. We should have not turned, but gone straight on from the station. Once the course was corrected, we found the hotel in short order and it was lovely. We were greeted warmly, told how to catch the bus to Venice, and taken to our beautiful room.

  Well, I wouldn’t want to exactly say we were out of sorts with each other, but I will say that walking hot streets carrying backpacks and dragging suitcases doesn’t make for an especially “I love you Snookums” sort of a day. We discovered in short order that neither of us wanted to go to Venice right away, so we refreshed ourselves with naps and showers. After a while we felt better and decided to soldier on.

  We found the bus stop just a few steps from our hotel. We were pretty pleased with the convenience of that--what we weren’t expecting was to be crammed in like sardines. Apparently other people had found out that staying in Mestre was cheaper too---and there they all were, everyone wanting to get to Venice. Ken and I climbed in and didn’t even bother to look for a seat. Heck, we could barely find space to stand. Off we went with the bus lurching away from the stop and Elise had all she could do not to fly right over the heads of the crowd. But I hung on frantically and kept muttering to myself that it was only supposed to be a 15-20 minute ride. I could survive that surely.  To my utter disbelief, however, there were more stops to be made and more people to get on the bus. I truly expected the driver to turn people away and tell them there was no room and they’d have to wait for the next bus. Nope, he just kept loading them on. Of course what did he care! His lovely space in the front was protected--no crowding for him!

  At last we went over the causeway and I could see some of the outer buildings of the city. I can’t tell you just how special that moment was, but I will never forget it. To see those lovely buildings sort of floating on the water it seemed was just powerful.

   We parked, and the sardines clambered out and started racing to the city--Ken and I caught up in the craze as much as anyone. But we didn’t get far. It was HOT, and we were feeling pretty crushed after that bus ride, so we spotted a shady spot under a bridge and collapsed there.

   If there is anything I think I would do better if I were to take this trip again, it would be to do more research on the spots we would be visiting. I spent so much time on logistics--where to stay, train connections,etc. etc. that I just didn’t do the homework I should have on the the various places, and the lack of it showed up over and over.

   We were in Venice. We had Rick Steves’ guide book and I had given it cursory examination but I can tell you I should have done much better. After cooling down a bit and started walking. We spotted a gorgeous bridge and I informed Ken that was the famous Rialto Bridge, so of course we tromped across it. Rick Steves had said we should get on the vaporettos and use them for transportation around the city, and we could see a station right near us. But we didn’t know how they worked or how much they cost and we were embarrassed to ask as people didn’t speak English here very well. So we just walked. We saw beautiful buildings, wandered down winding streets, paused to gaze admiringly at all the wares being offered for sale.

   It was a great night,  and we capped it off with dinner at the foot of the “Rialto” bridge. That was Ken’s idea. I wasn’t too sure of it. I figured the cost would be steep to eat on the waterfront by such a famous landmark. When we looked at the menu and saw it was within our budget, I immediately decided that the food would probably be lousy. If it was that inexpensive, right on the water, it probably was not very good, I reasoned. I had actually found a restaurant I wanted to try down one of the winding streets--it looked great to me. But Ken thought it would be so nice to eat canal side, and I couldn’t disagree that the experience would be lovely. So was capitulated to the “hawker” who had been shoving a menu in our faces and telling us he had the perfect seat for us (ALL the restaurants do that--they have someone outside with menus and if you even slow down they basically have you seated with a bowl of bread in front of you before you even know what happened).

  The food was actually quite good. We sat there until they turned on the evening lights and then finally made our way back to the bus stop. It had been a great day and we felt fortified for even the horrible crowded bus back to Mestre.

   And here I have to tell you the bus story. Really, Ken and I probably shouldn’t be allowed off the premises of our own home, we are so unprepared for how things are done in the rest of the world. The fact is that we didn’t know how to pay for the bus. We didn’t know where to buy tickets, we didn’t know how much. We had figured we would watch other people when we boarded the first bus and just follow their lead. But the first bus was the suffocatingly overcrowded one outside our hotel in Mestre.  We were just basically shoved on with other people behind us pushing us forward. No one paid anything. So I thought maybe the bus was free. But coming home, we saw people fight their way up to a machine and wave a card across it and there would be a “beep”. Not everyone did it--in fact probably only about 20 percent of the riders. But I knew then that the bus wasn’t free and I started to panic that Ken and I would be caught and thrown in a dank Italian jail for not paying our bus fare. Besides that, I was feeling pretty dishonest. Ken told me not to worry--if we got caught we would just explain that we were very willing to pay, but just didn’t know how. Besides with all that many people crammed in the bus, how were they going to check people anyway? I knew that made sense, but I still felt dishonest.

  When we got back to the hotel, I asked the desk clerk about it. “Oh we sell tickets right here at the desk,” she said. She laughed at my suggestion that I buy two--one for this day’s ride, and one for tomorrow’s ride. “No, you don’t need to do that,” she said. “You didn’t mean to be dishonest. They rarely check, but they do do it once in a while. There’s a pretty big fine if they catch you without a ticket, but don’t worry about it. Just buy one from us in the morning.”

  We went to our room, glad to be in its coolness. I picked up the Rick Steves book and started reading the section on Venice. That’s when I discovered that we had missed all the major sights. The “Rialto” bridge I had so confidently told Ken we were walking over was just a regular (albeit beautiful) bridge, and we hadn’t even seen St. Mark’s Square. Clearly we had our work cut out for us the next day.

End of Day 17

 We are very serious about choosing our meals

But when we get if figured out, we really enjoy it. This was by the canal at the restaurant Ken wanted to eat at. It turned out to be very good. Ken had pizza--I had spaghetti. We both had absolutely delicious bowls of minestrone soup.

Venice by lamplight

 The lamps a the restaurant we ate at. In the background you can see the bridge I so confidently and incorrectly identified as the Rialto!