Ken and Elise's trip

Day 18: Venice, Day 2

  It was time to head out to Venice again and actually see the landmark sights. We made a quick stop at the front desk of our hotel, and spent some quality time with the clerk who sold us “all-day” versions of the bus and vaporetto tickets. She did her best to explain how they worked, but although her English was excellent, her accent was hard for us to to understand (remember, we are both deafer than doornails). So, still somewhat confused, we headed out to once again battle the crowds on Bus 2. And sure enough, it was just as bad as the day before.

  However, we did figure out how to make the bus ticket work and feeling quite virtuous after paying, we looked for a railing to hang onto and prepared to be squeezed into sweating masses of humanity. Less than a half hour later, we arrived once again in Venice. We found our shady spot under the bridge and took stock of life in general. We now had vaporetto tickets that were good for the entire day. We could get on and get off at will. But we didn't have a clue which water taxi went where. Ken went over to the stand and tried to figure it out. He made some headway, but we still were far from confident. Then I went over--I didn’t get much further than Ken. We sat there for a while dithering. We walked around a little. Finally, I said to Ken, “Let’s just get one of the darn things. After all, we can’t really make a mistake. If we don’t like the one, we’re on, we can get on another one.” He agreed so we just sort of grabbed the first one that came along and fought our way to the railing. God was good to the mentally-challenged again, as we just happened to catch one of the major ones that goes completely down the Grand Canal.

  We finally saw the Rialto Bridge. How did we know? Because there was a huge sign at the vaporetto stop that said “Rialto”. Boy, we were getting good at this. We continued on and lo and behold there was a sign for the St. Mark’s Square stop. We decided to get off and explore. We wandered up and down looking at the thousands of items for sale. We bought some gelato and actually found a place to sit down and eat it. We identified the Doge’s Palace. All in all, we felt we were  becoming quite the “in the know” Venetian tourists.

  We clambered back on a vaporetto and continued down the Grand Canal. Rick Steves had said that many of the palaces along it are empty and crumbling--it costs too much to keep them up. I wondered which of the ones we were passing were empty. Rick also advises that the city is sinking slowly. Efforts have finally been made to save it, but no one knows if they will be successful or not.

  We watched the scores of gondola boats and secretly wished we could afford to take one, but we both knew that the spending has to be controlled to some degree so we managed to turn our backs on that temptation.

  Once again, the sun was hot. Neither Ken nor I respond well to crowds, and Venice is crowded even that late in the season. I began to feel as though I was being swallowed by people. The only way to escape them was to turn down some of the side streets--but there was nothing much to see there.

  Finally, we climbed back on a vaporetto and just figured we’d stay on it until we could manage to move our way into one of the lovely seats in the front or back. It took a good while, but we did eventually snag seats, and then we simply took out our duct tape and taped ourselves to them--OK, I’m kidding, but we did pretty much decide to simply stay in them. We rode the vaporetto way out into the causeway, past the islands. In fact we did that a couple times. It felt good to be out of the crowds, and where there was a cool breeze. I probably would have stayed there forever, but Ken eventually said we probably should get something to eat.

  This time we went to the restaurant I had seen the day before that I wanted to try. It was excellent--not on the water, but still with tables outside where we could watch the crowds go by.

  We wandered down the street with all the Murano glass sellers. I wanted a piece of that to go on our bookcase where we put little items to remind us of various trips. The only piece I found that I could afford and that I loved was a little gondola driver with his boat. But it was so fragile and we have so many miles yet to go, that I regretfully left it behind. I will probably always remember it though. Dear Ken tried and tried to figure out a way to package it so that we could carry it safely, but I just was convinced that it couldn’t be done. I’m not really sure if that was the real reason or if I was just so tired at that point that I didn’t want to deal with the ins and outs of getting it packaged.

  One thing we did see several times that I was very interested in. All over the city were men (always black) with blankets spread out with designer purses on them. I was relatively certain they were knock offs, but since I have absolutely zero interest in spending several hundred dollars on a designer purse when I can get a perfectly good one at Penny’s for $60, I just don’t see the point in them (yeah, everyone who knows me knows what a fashion plate I am! NOT!).

  Anyway, several times we would turn a corner or something and see these black guys running like crazy with the purses wrapped up in their arms. Once we saw what appeared to be several white men accosting them and all I could figure out was that there was some sort of war going on regarding who could sell at which spot, and maybe the running guy had stolen someone else’s “spot”. What I later learned is that virtually all these black sellers are from Jamaica, and indeed the purses are knock offs. It is absolutely illegal for them to be selling them and it is illegal to purchase one. In fact, you can be fined a pretty whopping fine if the Venetian police catch you buying one. I guess it rarely  happens, but you are really chancing it if you buy one. So the police made a raid, (we saw it at least once a day), and the purse seller sees them coming, grabs his wares in the blanket and makes a run for it. A few minutes after the police disappear, he comes back, lays down his blanket and wares, and it’s business as usual.

  We headed back to the bus stop, climbed aboard--and actually got seats. Miracles do still happen! We paid our fare, and got jolted back again to our hotel.

   We have seen Venice. We think it is every bit as beautiful as we imagined. Maybe more so. But we probably won’t go back. We just don’t do well with crowds.

End of Day 18

 The real Rialto Bridge

My handsome husband

 Ken took a photo of this guy--he dropped a little money into his can and was promptly and quite rudely told it wasn't enough. "You took a picture of me," the guy said, "you  owe me more money than that!" I told Ken I would have reached in and retrieved my initial contribution!