Trip anxiety started out even before the trip began. I was gathering my things the night before around 9:15 and happened to look down at the plane ticket to Athens in my hand. I was indeed not going to Athens this weekend and to the best of my knowledge it was not April 21st. I printed the wrong godforsaken ticket. Another staple needed as a college student that I am without is a printer. The flight I was supposed to be on in the morning was at 7 am, so I had to get it figured out that night if I did not want to pay the 40 Euro for the airport to print my ticket. I Googled “Internet Points” in Rome searching and searching for one to still be open. I stumbled upon two that were of course nowhere near my apartment. Luckily Andrew was in the same boat and needed to get his train ticket printed for his trip this weekend, so with my wet hair fresh out of the shower, gym shoes, yoga pants, no bra, and a pea coat, I ran down the street to catch the bus waiting for the next thing to go wrong. And here it comes…of course this happens on the day there is a strike on all public transportation. Every month Rome has a pre-determined day they go on “strike”. I call this a “strike” because they give a specific time frame this “strike” lasts for. I don’t quite understand the logic of having a strike ensuring you will be back to work the next day. It really accomplishes a lot. Regardless, it’s a pain in the ass. We decided to catch a cab and the crisis was averted.
Venice is a gorgeous city that is in its own little word. I absolutely love the water surrounding every inch of the city. There is not one car, only boats and a lot of walking, except the city is so much smaller than you think. Claire and I wandered and walked all throughout the streets of Venice and looking back at the map afterwards, we realized we literally had walked the entire city.
Lunch was a milestone in my life. Claire and I ordered mixed fried fish to share. A plethora of disgusting creatures arrived on a plate in front of me. They had eyes, mouths, scales, and all. I am all for adventure, but I’m not plain crazy! This was a true test of courage and I did what I did. I tried it. It was repulsive. But I tried it.
Later that day Danny, Alex, Claire, and I went on a romantic gondola ride through the canals of Venice. We grabbed two bottles of wine on the way to make it the most perfect 20 minutes of our lives. Andre, our gondola man, was a 6th generation in his family to work on gondolas. His father, grandfather, great grandfather, and so on all followed in the footsteps. He had begun at age 15. I asked if he had ever hit his head on a bridge and he replied, “Once. I’ve fallen in many many times, but clonked my head just once.”
Walking along Realto Bridge was heaven and hell all in one. I wanted to buy everything that I laid eyes on. I was like a kid in a candy store, except I had a sweet tooth for Murano glass. Let’s just say, I bought a few presents here. We took a water taxi to Murano Island and saw how they make the Murano glass. It was truly phenomenal how effortlessly they create the detailed sculptures.
There isn’t really nightlife in Venice, but somehow Claire and I stumbled upon a great time Sunday night. We asked a waiter where young people usually go and he pointed us in the direction of a piazza where he said would be a bunch of bars that all the kids hang out. There were 2. And no one really around. We walked into one and sat for little feeling like losers with no friends until we conjured up the ultimate pick-up line. Even though neither of us smoke, Claire walked up to a group of people hanging out at the tables outside and simply asked, “Can I bum a cig?” This resulted in welcoming arms from the British people there. We instantly made friends, especially when we were informed of the beer bong they had behind the bar. “Let me show you Brits how it’s done.” I believe were the words that came out of my mouth.
I awoke 20 minutes later than planned and shouted to Claire, “It’s 6:23!!!!!” The bus to the airport left at 6:40, so our departure time was vastly approaching. We literally jumped out of bed, grabbed our bags, and were out the door. On the journey to the bus stop, my boot caught on a cobblestone and I tripped, naturally. Only this time set it over the edge because I then had a huge flap from the detached sole. I had to flippedy-flop the whole way home.
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