It's Just as They Say

When I was 5 or 6 years old, I had an audiobook series of stories based on different classical composers. There was one on Mozart, one on Handel, one on Bach; but my favorite was the story based on Vivaldi's Four Seasons. It told the adventure of a young girl named Katarina and a mysterious Stradivarius violin in Venice, Italy. I listened to that story on repeat for weeks at a time and vowed that one day I would visit Venice myself.

Today was that day. And for the €60 it cost to make the trip, it was well worth it. For one thing, it just blows my mind that a city--a city of stone and marble--can be built on water. Who would have thought to shove trees into the water and build a city on top of it? And a magnificent, beautiful city at that. They don't lie when they say that the water comes right up to your doorstep. And yes, there really are no cars--only motorboats and gondolas. It really is as they say it is, and it's beautiful.

The famous gondolas

We took boats like these up and down the Grand Canal.

The deck hand getting ready to tie the boat to the docking station

I spent most of my day wandering the streets and alleys of the old city with my travel buddy, Devon. Although, Venice is supposedly more touristy than Florence, the whole atmosphere of of the city seemed to absorb the tourism and transport me away into another world. So, we let ourselves be transported, admiring the architecture, watching the people, and getting sucked in by shop owners every now and then.

San Marco Plaza

The narrowest path we found that lead right up to the door of a hotel

Although we missed the San Marco Basilica, which was apparently incredible (something for next time, haha), we did stop in a small church. It as a humble chapel by any means, and yet it seems sincere in its devotion.

Devon asked me, "How do you think God feels?"

I thought for a moment and responded, "I think God is sad."

"Yeah, I think so, too. And I think it's especially sad when the most fervent and religious people find themselves in hell, because they missed the point."

True that.

On another note, I am a huge proponent of street musicians. I believe that these musicians, for whatever they're worth, are 1) skilled artisans who deserve to have their work appreciated, 2) hard-working people--especially when they stand out on the street on cold days such as today to earn their living, and 3) add an irreplaceable measure of culture to any city. Yes, tossing €2 to the accordion player in the plaza felt less like overblown courtesy and more like a socio-political statement.

At this point, I'd just like to come out and say that I make a pretty terrible tourist sometimes. After living in another country for a bit, I enter new cultures with a desire for the "authentic" experience, which is pretty darn impossible for a tourist with just a day-pass. (Not to mention, the language barrier is ridiculously frustrating. And yes, that's even with my Spanish.) Without the relationships and cultural fluency, every city after a while becomes just another beautiful pile of rocks--an empty shell. I think the nationals realize that's all we see, too. So, as much as they may appreciate the cash flow we provide, perhaps they resent our lack of understanding of their people and their ways. I'd like to understand. I'd like to learn the language, make friends with the locals, and love what they love about their city. However, one day simply isn't enough for anything.

The Rialto Bridge on a foggy day

The Tourist Market on the Rialto

I had no idea what it was at the time, but now I know I was sticking my finger in the beak of a Venetian doctor's mask. (Information courtesy of the Patrick Lemmon Foundation of Useless Trivia and Random Facts.)

The Venetian take on John Deere

The produce market was closed off for filming!

Notwithstanding, I think I have already been able to develop a proper appreciate for true Italian pizza. They know their gelatos, they know their pasta, and they sure know their pizza. Sitting on the edge of the Grand Canal, soaking up some sun, and watching the gondolas float by, we enjoyed a little slice of heaven. (Well, it was actually quite a large slice, and Devon had two--one with melted Brie on top. Mmm...)

Not pizza, but pita at its finest

So, I think I've come to my decision: if given the option to live in Florence for a period of time, I think I'd rather return to Spain. However, if given the opportunity to live in Venice and learn the language, I'd snatch it up, no questions asked. But that's my decision today. Who knows what I'll decide tomorrow?