We had spent all night in a train car, which should have held four people somewhat comfortably, but the train company had thought could squeeze six.  Six bunk beds and barely any space for luggage.  For us, it was a problem.  Everyone else seemed to only have small bags that fit neatly in their beds with them or in the overhead space.  They must have only been traveling a short time.  Besides being cramped, we had the Snoring Champion of the World join us in Bunk 1.  Needless to say, the overnight train from Vienna to Venice was less than restful.

But as we stepped out onto the steps of Venice, overlooking the canal and starting to hum to life in the early morning light, it didn’t matter.  I looked at Eric and his face was perfect: awe, surprise, excitement.  He was in love.  (Um, to clarify here, he was looking out at the city.  He was in love with the city, not me.)  I completely understood.  I had felt the same way the first time I had come to Venice six years ago.  I was surprised to find that I still felt that way.  Venice is striking.

It was the most perfect four days.  It was sunny and 75 every day.  The canals glistened as though diamonds floated on the top of every small crest created by a passing gondola or water taxi.  The streets were confusing and we got lost a few times, but that is the charm in Venice.  It’s expected.  We ate at small Italian restaurants on the canal or hidden away on some small side street.  We crossed countless bridges eating gelato and ignoring all the other tourists.  Venice provides that opportunity; you’re so enthralled with everything around you, it’s easy to forget the throngs of people all around.

We spent time at the Guggenheim, admiring Peggy’s eclectic taste.  We took in the grandeur at San Marco and understood why it stood as the distinguishing landmark of the city in pictures and movies.  We traveled to the top of the Basilica and took in a rooftop view from every direction.  San Marco square is always crowded with vendors, tourists, and pigeons and we weren’t disappointed.  The live classical band in front of one of the restaurants played a variety of tunes including Hava Nagila, while couples lounged in yellow chairs sipping glasses of wine in the afternoon.  Children fed pigeons crumbs and I noticed some adults join in as well.  (I actually saw a woman put bread in her mouth and then regurgitate it to feed a pigeon.  Yes, that’s right.  Mouth to beak action.  Her husband took pictures of the whole thing.  I wasn’t going to include it because it kind of ruins the image of Venice, but I saw it, so I thought I had to share it with you.  Minor blip.  Moving on.)

And after a long day walking around in the heat, Eric and I would come back to our hotel to enjoy a glass of wine (me) and rum and Coke (him) on the veranda overlooking the canal.  Besides the occasional passing boat, there was hardly any noise as we sipped our beverages and waited for light to fade to dark.  

Venice is beautiful.  It’s a slow moving city where one can fine peace.  And honestly, when you’re living on a canal and enjoying good food, wine, and most importantly, good company, what’s the need to rush?

Until tomorrow and the new adventure…

Rachel