Voyage to Venice
The two months leading up to our trip to Italy sucked. It started with a call from Mrs. G. I was two hours out of town picking up my boss’s boss at the airport. We were scheduled to meet with the company’s largest client. Mrs. G. was car number seven in an eight car pile-up on the highway. Thank God she emerged from the accident unscathed. Her Jetta didn’t fare as well and was deemed a total loss by our insurance carrier. We were all of a sudden car shopping.
A month out from the trip, Mrs. G. scheduled two elective eye surgeries. The first went smooth but the second involved a recovery that was a bit longer than anticipated. Her mother visited to help with the care-taking. Even with the motive of assistance, family visits come with a time commitment. You have to entertain them. Normal life is always disrupted.
Two weeks before departure the bastards at State Farm decided to raise our auto insurance from a thousand a year to thirty six hundred a year (good neighbors my ass), and we were insurance shopping. A week before departure, my parents spent the weekend with us. At the same time, Mrs. G. was experiencing a major transition in her company that left uncertainty in a role she worked hard to develop. I was experiencing a similar transition at work as teams and departments were realigned and nobody knew where they would land or how they would get paid.
A week before departure I found myself in the doctors examining room with some sort of rash. I feared bed bugs as I travel frequently for work and started to add up the extermination costs on top of the new car, eye surgery, and increased insurance premiums. The prognosis was a stress rash which I’m not sure is better or worse. Apparently all these events turned me into a nutcase as I prepared for a trip I had planned and dreamed about for a lifetime. Would I even enjoy the trip or would I just be a walking haze of worry not living in the moment? Would I be able to experience the romance of Venice, the flavor of Tuscany, the awe of Rome?
Luckily, the voyage to Venice was flawless unlike the mayhem to Munich last year. We arrived early and caught the Alilaguna from the airport to Piazza San Marco. I breathed in the sea breeze as the ferry carried us across the Mediterranean to Venice. The rays of the afternoon sun heated my black t-shirt and my soul, and told me vacation had begun.
After catching a quick a shower and an hour nap, we ventured back to Piazza San Marco for a late lunch at Cafe Florian. While the guidebooks all said any meal consumed on Piazza San Marco would involve a second mortgage on the house, the view and the atmosphere would be worth it. The books were right. We sat in a perfect Venetian moment savoring each bite of our doge priced finger sandwiches and cappuccinos overlooking the sundrenched stones of the piazza. People meandered back and forth. Pigeons frolicked. A couple next to us toasted over a bottle of Prosecco. An orchestra played in the background. A bride and groom paused for pictures. It was like a scene from a movie. This was why we came to Venice.
After a lunch that involved more sitting and being than actual eating, we toured Basilica San Marco. The majesty of the gold and the mosaics was mesmerizing. How could such works of art be made by little tiles? From a distance, they looked like paintings, but up close from the rafters of the church, the texture of the mosaics could be seen.
We then aimlessly wandered the alleyways and footpaths north of Piazza San Marco. with no destination in mind, simply getting lost amongst the narrow lanes, bridges, and canals. Humorously, some bridges literally dead-ended after crossing a canal and we had to double back. The walking eventually worked up a thirst and we stumbled upon a risotteria advertising glasses of Prosecco for 3 euro. We stopped in for a few rounds over a cheese pastry cichetti.
There was more lost, more canals, more piazzas, the Rialto bridge, more tiny lanes and bridges until we finally landed in a rather large, but desolate square. A lone restaurant stood in the far corner with a lively crowd. This would be dinner. Over a craft of house red wine, we enjoyed our first Italian pasta dishes. Mrs. G ordered buccatini with a tomato based sauce and I dined on homemade cavatelli with a pistachio, zucchini, and prawn sauce. The sauce had a delightful grain and earthiness from the pistachio and sea flavor from the prawns. And of course, the texture of homemade cavatelli can never be beat.
On our way back to the hotel we once again passed over the Rialta Bridge. This time after dark. We paused for a moment and once again breathed in Venice. Our vacation had begun.
love your photos. Dad & I can’t wait to visit Italy next year
I left the price tag off so as not to discourage Dad.
Love the pictures and I can’t wait to hear more! I wish I was sitting in a square in Italy splitting a bottle of Prosecco right now!
I bet you wished that yesterday instead of sitting under a bridge on a boat during a rainstorm with a Bud Light Lime in one hand and a six month old in another!
Dreamy photos! I love the cavatelli…wish I had some right now 🙂
The cavatelli was interesting from a pasta perspective. Not at all the shape my grandparents made. Cavatelli as I know them are little bite size pieces.
Brilliantly descriptive! Gorgeous photos as well. Making me hungry!
Do you expect less of me?
Ha ha, of course not! You never disappoint!
Looks so fun! Love the pics.
Lu, please teach Keith how to comment on my blog. His never show up but yours do.
Gotta love Venice!
Despite of everything, I am glad you had the chance to visit this wonderful place! It’s worth, for sure!
Wow! You do whet the wanderlust, Mr Wandering Gourmand. Thanks so much for liking Kiwicommunicator’s blog. I appreciate it from a blogger like you!
Awe… I’m blushing. You make me sound special 🙂
Hello, glad I found you! The Basilica San Marco looks amazing! Great article.
Thanks for reading! Venice is a beautiful place. San Marco is just the beginning of it.