Wifely duties: Walking the dogs

This weekend was filled with interesting experiences while walking the poochies. 

On Saturday I made an executive decision and we finally drove down to the Haw River to check out the walking route that Steve and Cindy Jones walk. It was a tad over grown so we didn't go far but camped at a cluster of rocks and threw the ball for the dogs. We didn't have to stay there long for the dogs to get tired since they had to swim back up stream to return the ball to us. That was hilarious to watch. They'd be paddling towards the ball like they always do and then they'd hit the current and their whole body would turn sideways but they'd still be paddling towards the ball. 

As we were making our way back to the car we heard some voices up ahead. Then I rounded a corner and could vaguely see a couple people ahead of us, it looked like they were walking away from us (hehe I was wrong). The dogs were up ahead so I hurried a bit to catch up and reel them in. I barely got a couple steps farther before I saw it....a full moon....and it was still daylight out. 

So those voices we heard? They were definitely the girl making happy noises. I flushed, called the dogs back and told Steven to stop b/c they were "#@&*($# up there". Steven started laughing immediately. 

We give it a second, they collect themselves and their clothes and moved on towards the parking lot. We followed on, but they kept stopping to canoodle again. I didn't even bother stopping the dogs from saying "hi" I figured they didn't have a leg to stand on if they were going to give us crap for having the dogs off leash. It got to be annoying waiting for them to move along so I finally called out, "Hey, if you want to wait for us to pass, you can get back to what you were doing." They must have liked this option b/c they pulled off the trail immediately and let us pass them. As we walked by I said, "Nice ass, by the way" and we giggled our way back to the car. 

Wish I had my camera for that one.  

On Sunday, while Steven rode his road bike with a couple guys, I took the dogs to Rocky Road for a stroll. I enjoy this trail b/c it's typically vacant except for a couple mtn bikers. Plus it has a section of trail that borders a big stream so the dogs have plenty of chances to get in the water. As we made our way down the trail I let the dogs run down the banks where it's easy enough and then I throw the ball for them for a couple turns each. At one of these points, the dogs are all in the water while I'm on the bank and I toss the ball out into the stream. My eye's casually drift downward until I see a really big black stick. I'm thinking, "huh, that's a strange looking sti...OH MY GOD THAT'S A BIG F*(@&ING SNAKE!!!" Haha, I literally jumped back. Thankfully it's a black snake and not a poisonous or aggressive snake. 

Sorry for the piss poor picture, it's from my phone and I might have been a bit wobbly. I contemplated throwing a stick at it...but if it's a black racer, then it's aggressive and it would charge me. And while it is harmless, that's still really freaky. So instead I walked down the trail some and called the dogs to me, trying to get them to avoid running by the snake (for a 3rd time). All of them, in their infinite wisdom ran right by the damn thing. That was the last time I let them run down the bank without me inspecting it first. Apparently they're snake-dumb. 

After their last ball tossing session in the stream I sent Gunnar and Rhea screaming through the woods to try and dry them off a bit more. By the end of the walk, Gunnar was Mr. Spider Face. 

Lots and lots and lots of spider webs out there that day. I got my fair share too. What puzzled me is they would reappear in places I'd already walked not a few moments before. As if they're just waiting for someone to tear down their masterpiece so they could build it again. I can deal with a lot of bugs, but I hate anything that touches my face. Be it flies or spider webs. Loath. Seriously loath. 

That pretty much sums up my weekend. Besides walking the dogs, seeing a random dudes bum and jumping from snakes I managed to cook a dinner one night, edit some photos and buy Michael's out of frames. 

Liz 

Awesomely abroad: An Italy Rant. Part 5!

I officially talk too much. Catch up by reading Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4.

We cheaped out and got 2nd class tickets for our train ride to Bologna. It's hard to not be frugal when every euro is $1.30 (it has dropped a bit since then I've heard). Before leaving Venice, I had looked up a couple hotels that had rooms available. I didn't make a reservation at any of them, we decided to wing it. Which is cool in theory, much harder in practice. I realized how essential a map is once we arrived in Bologna and we had no idea where the street that had the hotels actually was. 

A bit of wandering and some sore shoulders later, we stumbled upon one of the hotels I had found. It looked impressive from the outside and when we walked in, we were even more impressed. Gold accents, completely white and plush reception area. It was swanky. I nearly asked the man to repeat himself when he told us the rate was only 89 Euro per night. Having just spend 210 Euro per night in Venice, I felt like I was saving a fortune! So we booked our room for a night at Tre Vecchi in Bologna off the main road. 

Our room was equally impressive with gold accents, a large bathroom and a street view. 

View from the window. 

After settling in, we hopped on the (ever so slow) internets to find someplace for dinner. We arrived on a Sunday though and pretty much everything closes on Sundays in Europe. Inevitably, we consulted the front desk of our hotel. A very nice Russian woman who spoke very good Italian and English sent us to a cute little restaurant called Anna Maria. She said it was "not for tourist" and "authentic". We were hoping to find some authentic Bolognese sauce since it supposedly originated in Bologna. It wasn't quite time for dinner (remember, it's a late affair in Italy) so we set out to wander the street to grab a snack and check it all out. 

We forgot out rule to "never stop at the first place" and stopped at the first trattoria we found. Damn it. It was run by a bunch of college kids. No true Italian roots in any of them. Fail. The sandwich wasn't too bad and then we sipped a couple espressos down (as is Italian custom, hah). Then off exploring we were. 

Bologna was one of the most unique cities we visited. I would say perhaps as unique as Venice even. This is because its architecture was completely different. The architecture in Bologna was very renaissance. Or at least it seemed that way to me. 

After working up an appetite, we found the restaurant recommended by the Russian-Italian lady. I ordered a pasta with Bolognese sauce and...I can't remember what Steven ordered. This place was alright, they made a mistake and forgot to  bring me a salad or something but the service was generally good. The Bolognese sauce was super oily. I don't know if that's how it is traditionally made but to me I felt that the sauce was separating too much. It was tasty at least. The star of our meal was dessert though. I got a deliciously refreshing bowl of lemon gelato and Steven got a bowl of some innocent looking fruit salad. They must have sprinkled the fruit salad with fairy dust because it was amazing. When we were leaving Steven asked our server what the syrup was made out of. He tried not to answer, saying it was a secret but Steven persisted pushing that we'll be leaving for the US the next day! Guess what it was....

Orange Fanta! Wanna Fanta?! Yes. Yes I do. All over my fruit from now on. 

It was pretty late by the time we staggered to the hotel. That was the last honest to goodness Italian dinner we had. 

Monday we awoke with purpose and started putting the pieces together to get us to Lamborghini! You see, Steven's uncle has a friend who works there and he was going to get us a tour! His uncle was the one who suggested we go to Bologna and he actually recommended the hotel we were staying in (though we didn't realize that until after we checked in). He told us it was a quick trip to get to Lamborghini from Bologna. Uh...maybe if we drove a lamborghini. I was a train ride plus a bus/taxi ride away, or a 50 euro, 45 min taxi ride, one way. It wasn't feasible. What a shame, since it had always been our plan to visit Ferarri or Lamborghini and if we had gone to Modena like I had originally planned, we could have made it (Ferrari is a hop skip and a jump from Modena). Or if we had driven, that would have fixed it too. 

With our original plans in shambles, we tried to make the best of it by shopping for all our family members that we had promised gifts too. At which point we realized another grave mistake. We had essentially waited until the last minute to shop and Bologna just couldn't deliver. That's not entirely true. If you wanted to fill your luggage with shoes, you'd be set. We did not. 

We wandered around Bologna for the better of 5 hours looking and searching and going in circles. We were somewhat successful and got a few gifts and also saw some of the beautiful sites on our way. 

This fountain was near the train station at one end of he main road. The structure was impressive and this fountain was suggestive. I think that horse has bad intentions. 

Oh and I found out that the dirty rats with wings do actually wash themselves

Steven's attempt at long arming our photo here resulted in one of the funniest photos I've seen of him. We call this "Blue Steel". bahahaha So suave and debonaire. 

This guy was on the other side of the park from the lady with the horse problem. He was by far the most clothed out of all the statues. 

He was also covered in pigeons and this is why. 

Someone was purposely feeding the stupid things. I should have punted one. 

This statue was the most impressive. We read that when this was built, it caused quite a lot of turmoil. The native Bologna people were embarrassed about the uh...detail....and wanted the artists to add grape leaves to hide the man bits. Honestly, I thought the women with the water canons out their ta-tas was more offensive than a little wee-wee. But maybe that makes me an American prude? Who knows. 

Still had to get our photo in front of it through. 

Besides the water canon maidens, Bologna is infamous for it's two towers. Surprise, surprise, they're leaning. One is leaning quite a bit more than the other. 

I guess the practice of geotechnical engineering wasn't really big back then. 

We had train reservations for 8pm that night but were fed up with wandering around aimlessly by 4. We caught a taxi and got the next train to Milano Centrale. 

We were exhausted. Both physically, mentally and emotionally. Bologna had been such a burden and kind of a disappointment. We were ready to go home. We were ready to hear nothing but English. We were spent. 

However, we were not cut a break. There we were, sitting in first class, minding our own business, I was even sleeping a little. When all of a sudden a woke up to Steven saying something in Italian to a women standing by our seats. She didn't speak much Italian, just kept on saying "food" and motioning to her stomach and mouth. We tried every which way to tell her we didn't have any food (kind of a lie) and to get her to leave. But she just stood there, expectantly. We had experienced our fair share of beggars in town and had gotten most of them to go away with a simple, no. (except for this one guy in Bologna that started motioning to my bag which was sitting on the ground by my feet. This made us uncomfortable and kinda pissed. So the next time we said no, we made sure he knew we meant business...and then he left). But this lady wouldn't budge. We said in "mostly" clear Italian, "No we don't have any food" but she just stood there with this half grin on her face and waited. Finally Steven used the Italian word that means everything "Prego" and that did the trick...how...I'm not sure...but she still walked away. After that little episode, I was really done. 

We stepped on the connecting train to Malpense and sat, halfway glad it was almost over, and halfway sad that we were leaving. We knew the Hawns were heading back the same day and not 15 mins after Steven had said "Wouldn't it be funny if the Hawns just showed up" I saw Matt and Jess and their luggage walking by the window. Oh what a sight for sore eyes. 

We shared our stories or woe and success as we traveled the last 45 mins to the airport. 

All four of us stayed in First Hotel that had a shuttle service to and from the airport. It took us a bit to find the shuttle when we arrived but checking in was a breeze and the luggage service was nice. From our experience in Trinidad, we knew it was important to check in online. In doing so, I realize yet another grave mistake. I had accidentally bought our tickets under Elizabeth DiNatale and Steven George. However my loverly husband's passport has his full name of Steven George, JR. Oops. I couldn't check him in online because his names didn't match perfectly. Crap. Mini-panic attack. There goes our easy flight in the mornin. 

We tried to put that behind us and enjoy a dinner with the Hawns at the hotels "Italian" restaurant. It was about as Italian as an Olive Garden. And it was still in Italy, so you can imagine how bad it performed. 

There's no rest of the weary at First Hotel in Milan. The bed was as stiff as plywood with a cement base. The morning could not come soon enough. 

I'm sorry this is so long, but I swear I'm wrapping this saga up in 5 posts!

Check in wasn't so bad. We had to prove that Steven's pack was within carry-on spec (thank god it was, because we could have sworn it wasn't). When we went through security though, our world came crumbling down.....they made us leave the olive oil. When we were in Cinque Terre, we bought a small can of olive oil and a small jar of Pesto sauce. In Bologna we bought a small jar of Bolognese sauce. They let us keep the sauces....but they took the olive oil.....Beautiful, native olive oil. My heart aches to know it's in an Italian landfill now. What a waste, both in the sense of lost possibilities and excess garbage. 

If you learn nothing from this blog at least take my advice and check in online the day before your flight. Doing this will give you a priority seating zone and you'll be able to take your torture...I mean seat...earlier than others. This is a small but valuable victory. 

On the plane, everything seemed great. Until we took off 45 mins late. The curse...it returns. 

We lost even more time in the air. We didn't have a big layover to burn anyways. We. Were. Screwed. 

We landed with 35 mins till our next flight took off (not boarded...took off). We were met at the jetway by a nice guy in a bright orange vest that handed us tickets that said "express connection" and told us to run. I...hate running with a backpack. I refused to do it school...and then my bag was small. I ran for a bit but was being smacked in the back of my head with my pack and flat up stopped running (like an ornery mule). I didn't realize the gravity of the situation then it was explained to me that we had to go OUT of security to get through customs (US customs...in N...woo...) and then back through security to even get to our gate. Feck. I started running then. We barely made it. We were the last on the plane and it left the gate about 5 mins after we sat down. Side rant: When we returned from Trinidad into Miami, we were greeted with smiles and warm welcomes of "Welcome home" and some such nonsense. In NY (and it hurts me to admit this b/c I'm from NY and I constantly defend my home state), we were greeted by a man who obviously had the biggest case of hemorrhoids. There's no other reason he would be so grumpy. Then after that guy, we were rushed to his buddy who apparently had a wedgie b/c he was grumpy too. 

Landing in Raleigh was a sweet relief. We were a 20 min drive from our pups and beer (sweet hoppy sustenance). 

This concluded out FIRST (of many?!) trips to Italy. Our goal is to see the country by sections. This trip was all the north (though we may have to return to the north to visit the lakes) and the next trip will be the central part and then the south and then Sicily...where we hope to find our rich relatives. 

It was an experience I'd never want to trade. I learned a lot and experienced a lot. It was awesome. 

Things we learned in Italy (some of this might be repeated from previous lists):

• All Italians wear jeans and sneakers. The blogs are wrong. 
• Prego means EVERYTHING. When in doubt, say Prego. 
• Italians say Ciao, they hardly ever say Salve, the blogs are wrong again. 
• Don't speak Spanish to Italians...they don't like that. 
• Baccala' is gross. 
• Go to Verona, eat at Marie Callas. Tell Laura we said "Hi!"
• Venice is like an Italian Disney World Cruise. 
• B&B's in Venice are not always as they appear.
• In Venice, leave Dorsoduro, San Marco and the Rialto, get lost in Venetian neighborhoods (look for laundry). 
• Venice smells awful. It's better in the rain. 
• Punt a Pigeon. They're everywhere. 
• Don't waste money on valperotto (water bus) passes. Walk. 
• Take a bottle of wine on a Gondola. Grab other tourists, it's cheaper. 
• Drink water, eat yogurt, don't get sick. 
• Learn some Italian. 
• Make sure you buy international plane tickets under the name listed on ones passport. 
• Drive. It is freeing. 
• Buy first class train tickets. 
• Bring euros with you from the US. 
• Look like a tourist or you'll miss things. 
• 4 out of 5 dogs in Italy are Border Collies. We'd fit right in. :-)
• Don't spend more than a day and a half in Venice. 
• Either plan for a long trip or plan to return. 

Liz 

Awesomely abroad: An Italy Rant. Part 4

Missed Part 1, Part 2 or Part 3? <---right there

We stayed in Venice the longest and enough happened that my ranting on Venice warranted being split up.

Day three in Venice was a pretty lazy one. This was our "crap, we haven't bought anything for anyone yet" day. After waking up a little later than we'd hoped, grabbing breakfast before the Italian's could pack it up, we headed towards the Rialto. 

The Rialto is like an outdoor mall in America except with a lot more history and a lot more graffiti. That's the strange thing about the graffiti too. In America, if you see graffiti, it usually means you're in a bad side of town and you need to go ahead and vacate. But in Italy, it's everywhere. It's on historical monuments like the Rialto bridge and Juliet's house! I just don't get it. 

Anywho, I had read about this mask maker called La Bottega Dei Mascareri that supposedly had a shop among the plethora of crap stores (that's stores that sell crap) just passed the Rialto. We'd looked there for a solid hour the day before but couldn't find it. We had all but given up on finding that perfect mask (none of the others seems to really do it for me) until we were purchasing Steven's father a gift from one of the Rialto shops and asked the owners if they knew of this mask maker. To our luck, one of the owners was good buddies with the the owner, Boldrini, and took us straight to his store! It was truly meant to be. This guy had the tiniest store I've ever set foot in. I'm so glad that Venetian masks aren't fragile or I would have had to buy the whole damn store. After hemming and hawing over a couple masks and hearing his story about designing the masks for the orgy scene of Eyes Wide Shut, I decided on this guy: 

So sorrowful and emotional. I lurv it. It will be hanging on our wall soon.  

I haven't ranted much about the way Venice smelled yet so let me cover that now. Venice is rather dirty. You have the polluted green fish-stank canals and the thousands upon thousands of tourists who trample the streets and litter and the hundreds of animals who pee and poo on the streets. That all collects to form one unique, very powerful, aroma. It is constantly lingering, this odor of fish-poo-stank and then every once in a while you'll round a corner and it's as if a local has smacked you in the face with cod prepped for baccala'. The Hawns have told us that the day after we left the city did a mass clean sweep and everything smelled better. So maybe we were there at the butt end of their cycle and experienced the worst that it gets? Either way. Bleh. It was rather picturesque but I don't think I appreciated it quite as much as I would have if I wasn't plugging my nose. OK,  maybe that was an exaggeration. I didn't actually plug my nose...

After dropping our goods off at the room we asked the Tallest Italian Ever Made where we could score a bottle of wine and some pastries; it was high time we utilize that balcony! We ended up with an assortment of mostly french style pastries and a chilled bottle of Proseco and parked ourselves in the (rather large) roof top balcony. We enjoyed relaxing up there for about an hour or so, finishing off our wine. We watched a mammoth sailboat style cruise ship leave Venice and listened to the bells ring over, and over and over again. There was one church bell that must have had a crack because you'd here "ring-a-ring-a-ling-CLANK! ... ring-a-ring-a-ling-CLANK!" Haha, makes me smile to remember that. We tried timing the bells to see what pattern they were on. But I think they caught on, because they'd change from 15 min intervals to 8 or 9 min intervals. And then someone's clock was running early and would start well before the others were. And all the while we heard "ring-a-ring-a-ling-CLANK!"

One thing you must do in Venice, and you'll hate me for saying this, but you must ride a Gondola. If you don't...it's like going to Rome and not seeing the Colosseum. It is a terribly touristy activity but there is no where else in the world that you can ride a real Gondola that is powered by a real Venetian...even if he's cranky. We eventually met back up with the Hawns, bought more wine and set off to find a Gondolier. We were dead set on talking them down from 100 Euro or an evening ride. We walked right up to one of them, asked his prices, he said 100 euro for 30 mins, we said 80 euro for 4? He said No....and he wasn't messing around. Well, we tried...cranky Gondolier... While we were figuring out how to split the Gondola ride up (we didn't have exact change) another American looking couple wandered up and looked from us to the Gondola, back to us, back to the Gondola, as if we were about to steal their bike. It was obvious they wanted to go on a Gondola ride, and we had already determined that the rate is a set rate for the ride and would not increase if we added people, so I asked them if they'd join us. I think they were more pleased that we were American than for the invitation. What was once an expensive tourist trap, became a much more reasonable experience. They ran to get some beers (and make change) and we all piled in to the Gondola. 

Our Gondola guy was pretty cranky.  He never said a word except to answer our questions. Oh and to tell the other American guy to stop breaking his horse. He was amazingly skilled. He navigated us around those narrow canals with boats parked along the side without ever touching either a building or a boat. I was impressed. I would have tipped him if he hadn't been so expensive...and grumpy. Honestly, how can you be grumpy about the patrons of your services when the only reason your services exist are to patron us tourists?!

Our last minute American add-ons were from Philly and were celebrating their honeymoon. They had already been to Rome and were heading to Athens after Venice. A 10 day long honeymoon with multiple European destinations. Nope...not jealous.....damn them.  

Life Bucket List Item - Ride a Gondola in Venice: Check

It wasn't quite dinner time yet but we had heard about cichetti in Venice and wanted to give it a try. Let me give you a little piece of advice from me to you. Don't stop at the first place you see... At the first sign of cichetti, we sat our happy bums into a booth and enjoyed a couple unique dishes and an ok wine. We weren't impressed so we didn't stick around for long. We were kicking ourselves when we went a couple more streets and found a restaurant that had super yummy looking dishes and crowds of Italians. If only we had kept on walking.

Sometime between cichetti and dinner we wandered some more and happened upon a leaning tower of Italy! You really don't need to go to Pisa to see a leaning tower. Apparently foundations were not Italy's strong suite for a while. 

Dinner is usually a late affair in Italy. If you sit down before 8pm, you'll look like an early bird. Even though we had been very nicely buzzed the night before, we remember this one restaurant distinctly. It was completely packed and had a crowd waiting. It was in one of the neighborhoods we wandered through on the way home the previous night. Somehow, Steven managed to find our way back to it. Seriously, an amazing skill. We walked up and asked for a table, "Un tavolo, per quattro?", (in Italian) "Do you have a reservation", "...No...But we'll wai..", "Sorry we're completely booked". And they were. They had reservations for the whole night. There was no waiting for a table to open. Insert sad face. Funny side note, we were talking to a Swede who was waiting for their table and he told us that that particular street and bridge in Venice used to be the "red light district". Where a certain type of working girl would hang about. Ha...

We wandered some more, I tried to follow my nose like the night before, and we eventually ended up in this hole in the wall pizzeria. This place was authentic. The pizza kitchen was epic. But the "ceiling" of the patio was the most impressive. It was a tree that had been trained to grow along a ceiling trellis. So the branches splayed out horizontally instead of vertically. The table we were seated had a border on two sides with a short fence that was completely covered in real ivy. Jess kinda blended in. 

For an appetizer we grubbed on a cheese plate (I love that a plate of cheese is an appetizer, seriously, American restaurants, catch on) and then the 4 of us split two pizzas. So good. Best pizza we had in Italy. The weather was about to turn south and we had no umbrella so we didn't stick around to digest, we hurried off to our neighborhood. We went via the Rialto bridge and snagged a couple neat late night photos. And then we asked one of the water taxi's how much it cost to get a ride to Academia (a couple blocks away) and he said $50!!! Bahahaha we walked away about as fast as he had answered. This is why I say don't bother using public transportation, just walk.

That night we said our goodbyes to the Hawns since we were leaving Venice the next day. 

Venice day four. On the fourth morning, the sky opened up and a furious storm blew in. The wind was blowing so hard that the rain was sideways. While we ate breakfast we watched countless umbrella's turn inside out. To top it off, it was freezing. I had planned on setting off early this morning to snag a photo of San Marco Square without all the crowds but the cold, windy rain kept me in. After I'd had my cup of macchiato, we grabbed a couple complementary umbrellas from the front desk and faced the weather. It turns out that the sandals I had been wearing the last few days are very slick to wear on wet rocks. Guess what Venice streets are made up on...rocks...and remember it was raining. I nearly busted my arse hundreds of times in the walk from Academia to San Marco Square. I ended up bear hugging Steven's arm to keep my balance. When we finally made it to the square we were perplexed to see a few massive groups of people all huddled around with umbrellas. It dawned on us afterwards that these were tour groups. They probably came from the cruise ships and they apparently operate rain or shine. Still, this was the least busy I think I'd ever get the square and so I got my pictures. I can say one thing positive about the rain. Venice smelled particularly nice. 

Yet another leaning tower of Italy

By the time we were heading back to the hotel to pack up, the rain had stopped and walking was far less treacherous. 

The ticket office for the water bus was closed at our station so we hopped on the next departure and hoped we weren't caught. It became painfully aware to us that we had wasted money on our first water bus ride. No one ever checked our tickets. There was no real way to tell if we had paid or not. I know it can be risky...if you're caught without a ticket, there's a nasty fine, but I can vouch for us when I say we got away with it and no one was the wiser. 

This is really quite enough for one blog post. I'm going to have to try and wrap this up in Part 5. 

Things we'd learned since the previous day:

• Never stop at the first place you find...for anything.
• Don't bother with water taxi's, just walk.
• Gondoliers are cranky. 
• Venice smells so much better after a rain. 
• Bring a bottle of wine on a Gondola ride. 
• Follow your nose for dinner. 

Liz

Awesomely abroad: An Italy rant. Part 3

Missed Part 1 or Part 2? <----clicky

So I've covered Cinque Terre and Verona. The last I wrote, I was stoked about heading to Venice. I'll pick up there...

For our train ride to Venice we splurged and got first class tickets. That was the best train ride we had. We got free drinks, free food and the bathrooms were actually *intact and *clean! We recommend to take a first class train at least once in Europe. 

*I'll cover the bathrooms in my final rant of things I've learned about Europe. 

At this point Steven had been sick since Sunday and wasn't getting any better. Italian pharmacies, while plentiful, did not have the medicine we're used to and it was very hard to describe what was the matter with hand gestures. 

We arrived in Venice, disembarked the train, and got in line for the waterbus. Which is the most outrageously expensive bus I've ever been on. 7 euro for a pass valid for 60 mins. They are probably a big part of the reason Venetian canals are so polluted (diesel powered boat motors spit oil into the water. yummy). 

Anywho, a long waterbus ride later and we're at Academia and make our way towards our B&B, Ca'San Vio. The trouble started brewing when we realized our B&B was down a dead end, unfriendly, somewhat smelly, alley. Then we rang the bell to reach someone, no answer. Rang again, finally Marco answered, told us our keys are in an envelope on the front desk and buzzed us in. I'm thinking that they've just stepped out for a moment and don't worry too much about it. We step into this tiny front room with a host stand/desk thing on the left with our envelope. We see four doors in front of us. The envelope said 1* (1st floor) and the name of our room, which I've forgotten. The room we were standing in smelled musky already and I had a bad feeling about our room. It took us a while to get the key to work but when we finally got the door to our room open, we were so disappointed. 

The room was the size of my dining room in Cary (including its bathroom). It fit a double bed and you could touch the wall from the bed on both sides. The bathroom was so small that you would pee, wash your hands and shower at the same time. So long as you didn't mind showering with the bugs that were dancing around the shower drain. Oh and it smelled like mildew and like a pair of shoes that got wet and never dried properly. Side rant: Something to always remember about Venice....it's over water. The water tops the streets almost every year from a high tide in the fall (Septemberish I think). Which means anything on the first floor is flooded, annually. Never stay on the first floor of a Venice B&B/Hotel/Hostel/Anything. Things aren't looking great yet and then for the icing on the cake, Steven pulls out the key chain from the envelope and shows me a key that is bent about 20 degrees. When he attempts to bent it back to straight, it snaps. Guess what door that key opened...yep...the front door to the building. I immediately ring Marco who says he won't be back in town until tomorrow and to "just buzz him whenever we want to come in". Remember that we didn't get him on the first try when we first arrived....yeah.... 

Needless to say, that didn't cut it. I hopped on the internets and scored the area for a hotel or B&B that had an opening. I stumbled upon Ca Pasani that was just around the corner and it was advertising a special for last minute bookings. We swiped the front door key from another guests envelope and power walked to Ca Pasani. When we arrived, we met the tallest Italian ever made. I kid you  not, this guy was gargantuan, he was almost 7 foot (we asked). The tallest Italian ever made was also pretty awesome - he pulled some strings and got us an even better rate than we expected. We gave him our CC number to hold the room, told him we'd be back in 10 mins, literally ran back to Ca'San Vio, grabbed our stuff, re-swapped the keys (no reason to ruin someone elses day), wrote a note to Marco that "Not being able to get in the door is not acceptable" and left. We hadn't paid him yet and we had to pay him in cash, we got lucky there. We were back at Ca Pasani in less than 10 mins. 

Where Ca'San Vio failed, Ca Pasani ruled. We had a large comfortable bed, several windows(!), a jetted tub, a completely marble tiled bathroom, an available steam shower, a balcony (available to all the guests), PEOPLE who were THERE working, a bar and restaurant and a friggin bell hop who carried our way-too-heavy backpacks up to our room. And it wasn't even that much more expensive, we got so lucky. But  unfortunately this is the one room that I forgot to get photos of. 

After we settled in, we attended our new hotel's happy hour and enjoyed a traditional Venetian drink called a Spritz. It's somewhat tart but I really enjoyed it. We chatted up the hotel manager lady, who was really nice, and spoke very good English. We recanted our recent adventure with our B&B and she told  us how things like that abound in Venice now. People want the tax write offs so they'll purchase a building or a few rooms in a building, open them up for rental and call it a B&B. They'll bring you breakfast in the morning to keep it "legitimate"  but never live anywhere near the building. That sounded very familiar. After happy hour, we managed to find San Marco Square which was completely packed with people. To the point where I didn't even want to bother taking a picture. I never would have gotten a clear view of the square. I did go back for pictures another day but I'll get to that. Dinner that night was disappointing. It involved a cramped restaurant full of tourists, mediocre pizza, bad beer and a headache. I was glad the call it a night after that. Day 1 of Venice, meh. 

The next day we did a couple of the usual touristy things. We visited the Acamdemia, which I thought was really neat. They've collected all the old Venetian frescos and have them on display. I noticed the theme for many frescos was very violent. Guys shot with arrows, a lady cutting the head of one guy (which inevitably exposes boobies apparently), another guy getting skinned...it was gruesome. But the skill of those painters was unbelievable. I remember one in particular had a man in a pink robe and I swear the robe looked velvety. As if I could touch it and it would feel like velvet, it was that accurate. 

We had several more hours before we expected the Hawns so we wondered over to the end of our neighborhood and found a church that was free to enter. You don't get many free things in Italy, so you need to take advantage of them when you do. 

And at the very end of the neighborhood is this random boy holding a frog statue. It was so lifelike that if it hadn't been HUGE I would have thought it was a street performer.

The neat thing about Venice is that every building has historical presence. The tallest Italian ever made told us that the youngest building in Venice was 200 years old. 

Enter the Hawns. It was great having the Hawns there every few days or so. It was nice to have a little familiarity. 

That afternoon, we really explored. After our disappointing first day, I got online to figure out what we were missing. Everything I read said to get away from the tourist areas and get lost among the canals. Find buildings with laundry hanging from the windows and you'll be on he right track. We wandered for hours. It took us a while but we finally got away from it all. And there we found the old Venice. Where the restaurants were filled with Italian speaking people and not tourists of every nationality. 

Those structures in the center of the street are old wells. 

bahahaha!! I kid you not, this was a the door of some building. Apparently two people live there and the buzzer/mail slot is very alarmed about it. 

We snagged some dinner at a cute little place where I tried Italian lasagna and decided I liked my recipe better and enjoyed another Spritz. Then we wandered the streets until everything closed and we had no choice but to sleep. 

I'm thinking there may be a 4th and 5th installment of this rant. 

Things we've learned since Verona:

• Buy first class train tickets.
• Venice smells, really bad.
• Don't rent a B&B in Venice unless you know someone personally who has stayed there, and they recommend it.
• Don't eat at a restaurant where the prevailing patrons speak English. 
• Try Spritz. 
• Wander far, far away from main touristy Venice to find the real Venetians. 
• Walk, don't waste your money on public transport. 
• The tallest Italian ever made lives in Venice. 

-Liz