Venice at Night

Most fanatics with a camera have dreams about exploring Venice at night. It's the reason why I packed my tripod in my suitcase. Happily I used it in Florence and Tuscany, but that was just a warm up for Venice.

By the time we finished our gondola ride, the sun was beginning to fall. The girls were ready to go back to our hotel, enjoy the cool air conditioning and free wifi. As I packed up my camera, adhering it tightly to my tripod, my excitement grew. Liz talked about possibly going with me.

I paused, I felt bad about it, but I just wanted to make things clear. It was okay if she came, but I wasn't going to stop for window shopping or sightseeing. I wanted to explore. With my camera. And be selfish about it. It was to be the only night we would be in Venice. I wanted to roam the streets and stop when I felt like stopping, move when I felt like moving. I know that sounds selfish, because it is.

If we were going to be there for two or three nights, I would hope that I would have been willing to share. Instead I headed out by myself for an adventure of a lifetime.

I had no idea where I was going. That was the beauty of it all. I wandered over cobblestones, through alleyways, across foot bridges, stopping when I felt like it, moving on when I felt like it. The sky slowly got darker, but I never felt afraid. Sometimes the streets were empty, sometimes I would come across another person or two, but I never felt afraid.

At last I turned to go back to our little courtyard, when I somehow stumbled across what appeared to be the docking place for many of the gondolas that glided across the canals. I stopped to take some pictures, soaking in the moment. There was the lapping of the water against the edge of the canal, the low laughter of a few of the gondoliers no doubt sharing some tale of the day and the gentle breeze that wafted through the air.

Continuing on in the general direction of our hotel, I did what I read every tourist should do in Venice...get lost. If it weren't for the fact that it was late by this time and I didn't want the girls and Liz to get worried, I probably would have roamed the streets even more forgetting that I was lost. Added to this, was the fact that I was getting tired. I finally resorted to asking several shopkeepers for help.

Even with the fact that most of the shopkeepers spoke English, it was still hard to follow directions. There is a lot of waving of the hands and the alley ways are so crooked it's hard to know if the block is ended and that's where you turn right or left or if you should continue for a few more steps before making the turn.

Staying calm helped a lot as did having landmarks to refer to. After thirty minutes of confusion, I finally came upon a familiar place and was able to make my way back to the hotel from there. By the time I lay my head upon the pillow, I was ready to call it a night, excited about what the next day may bring.

Going Gondolas

We managed to make our way easily back from the Piazza San Marco to our hotel at the Campo de la Fava. How, I don't know. But I was thankful that we did. I was also thankful that our room was ready upon our return.

The girls were delighted with our accommodations. I thought I had booked a room with two queen beds. Instead, we had a one bedroom suite with a living room, dining room table, full on kitchen and laundry facilities to boot. But the nicest feature of all was the air conditioning which was already doing its duty. It was simple, but clean...and mosquito free.

After we rested, we decided it was time to find us a gondola. Sure it was cheesy thing to do, but this was Venice and sometimes you just have to be a full fledge tourist. As we were crossing over a foot bridge, a gondola was coming in for a landing. The family getting out were exclaiming about what a great ride it was, so we asked the gondolier if he would be willing to take us around the canals.

The ride started off as we expected. I had Dean Martin's "That's Amore" on my iPhone and started playing the song. The gondolier was telling us about some of the surroundings when he received a call on his cellphone. It was to be the first of several long phone calls in a row our gondolier took. In between calls, he apologized, telling us that he had to take the calls because they were from his best friend, his mother and then his wife. Apparently, they don't have no talking on the cellphone while steering a gondola law.

By this time we had pretty much written him off, not that we cared a great deal. After all, we were on a gondola in Venice with Dean Martin crooning to us over my iPhone.

Experiencing Venice from the viewpoint of a gondola is truly different.

It's something that must be done at least once. It was worth every euro we spent.

Exploring Venice

Free of our luggage, we were ready to explore Venice with the first order of business...get lunch. Following the advise of our sweet hotel receptionist, we walked over the bridge at the Campo de la Fava and found ourselves in a little alley way with a sign several shops down which read "The Mamo".

Like everything else we had seen at Venice so far, it was a tightly squeezed, but we were welcomed right away to a little table for four. We could tell the waiters were smitten with the girls. It was a rather funny scene, as three waiters came to the table talking to the girls, asking them their names while never giving Liz and me another glance.

Turned out the meal was a good as the service. It was without a doubt, the best meal that I had the whole trip.

The girls had fun with the attention, asking the waiter why pizza isn't sliced in Italy like it is in the states. The waiter didn't have a good answer, but he showed them how to properly slice their pizza.

After our tummies were full and satisfied, we followed the signs to the Piazza San Marcos. Passing scores of shops along narrow streets among scores of tourists, we came to an opening which led to the Piazza. On this side of Venice there was space.

There was still throngs of tourists, but gone were the narrow streets.

After having been cooped up in the car and then twisting and turning amongst the crowds in the narrow passageways, this was a refreshing change. We wandered around the area checking out souvenir stands, snapping pictures, simply enjoying ourselves.

I saw a little alleyway with lovely light so I talked the girls into going down the way and back again so I could take some pictures.

After roaming about for a while, it was time for gelato and to head back to see if our room was ready. We were feeling sticky and tired.

The Destinations of My Dreams

Sitting in the water bus, I watched the dock at the Venice airport disappear from sight. Anticipation grew as I wondered what was in store ahead of us. Would I gasp from the beauty as I did the Duomo in Florence? Would I be disappointed because my expectations were too great?

I knew that there were those who found Venice to be old, dirty and crowded. I had read that in the heat of the summer, the water could get smelly. I told myself that none of that would matter. I told myself the beauty and uniqueness would be enough to make those things unimportant. What if I was wrong? It was so important to me for me to love Venice? Why? Because it had become the destination of my dreams.

Unlike the Duomo which suddenly appeared out of nowhere, the outskirts of Venice gradually appeared from the distance. As we cruised closer and closer, I grew more delighted. It was just as I pictured and I loved each colorful facade that came into view. Yes, the buildings looked tired and worn in real life, but that's because they were old. That's what made them so special.

We disembarked from the boat at our stop unsure of our next move. Armed with a map and the hotel address, I pointed us in the direction I thought our hotel to be. By this time it was mid-day, hot and crowded. Most of the streets were really alleyways, making it difficult to maneuver around with our suitcases. I was glad that we just packed for the night and left most of our things in the car.

The map was difficult to follow as the alley ways were more like a giant confusing maze. Somehow we were headed in the right direction because just when I was about to give up we stopped to ask some one for help and we were told to go one more block where we come to a courtyard and our hotel should be there. As we walked down the block before us, we were greeted with buildings that looked even more run down than the others, sprayed with graffiti.

My stomach lurched nervously. I turned to apologize to Liz for booking a hotel in such an undesirable area when I stopped in surprise. There in front of us was the little courtyard as promised and the buildings surrounding the area now looked normal again. Well, as normal as anything could look like in Venice.

The door to the hotel was locked, but opened when we rang the doorbell. Cool air immediately greeted us, a much welcome relief from the heat.

Still unsure of what to expect, we made our way to a little office to check in. The young woman behind the counter was friendly and sweet. Our room was not yet ready but we could leave our bags as we explored our surroundings. The place looked clean enough. My nerves were beginning to calm and my excitement grew again.

As much as we wanted to explore, our first order of business was to fill our rumbly tummies. The hotel clerk gave us a few recommendations, the first of which seemed to be the easiest. Cross over the bridge right outside the courtyard and there would be a restaurant called The Mamo. As we began to walk away, I stopped and asked the clerk, if we were to get lost, was there a landmark that we could name that would help someone know where we were.

She smiled and said that our little courtyard was the Campo de la Flava. I loved how she referred to it as "our little courtyard". I took the business cards, she handed me with the hotel name, address and phone number and gave one to the girls and one to Liz.

And our exploration of Venice began.

North to Venice

At the back of my head every night and every time we got into the car, for that matter, was the drive that we would make from Tuscany to Venice. On our map, it looked like a pretty straight forward shot. I had done a little research and knew that we were going to have to find a place to park and then find a way to get from where we parked to Venice itself, That's the part that scared me. If I thought too long about it, a pit of fear would grow in my stomach.

Thankfully, things have changed a lot since the last time I was in Europe. Our little villa had free wifi. Every night before I went to sleep, I would google parking and driving advice. One night while googling advice on where to park for the 3rd or 4th time, I came upon a recommendation that made the most sense to me. Park at the airport in Venice. Seemed brilliant to me.

The airport should be clearly marked, making it easy to find. There should be no need to worry that the parking lot was full. Those two reasons alone seemed good enough to me.

So on the early morning of June 17, 2012, we loaded up the car and headed north to Venice. For the first couple of hours, we settled into an easy quiet. The girls promptly fell asleep after having stayed up late the night before. Liz and I enjoyed the scenery and the way the surroundings changed as we moved further and further North. Soon, we began to see signs for the airport and train station and my anxiety began to build.

Remembering my conversation with my dad who had just come back from Venice, I talked to Liz about changing my plans and parking at the train station instead. Dad had told me that it was at the entrance to Venice and for a moment I doubted my idea of using the airport as our parking lot. After some discussion back and forth, I decided to stick with my plan and we continued to follow the signs to the airport.

As we drove to the entrance we were greeted with signs in Italian and English guiding us to a long term parking lot. I was amazed at how easily everything fell into place. We parked the car, gathered our bags and walked to the terminal not sure of what we were to do next. Once at the front of the terminal, we asked someone how to get to Venice and we were quickly told that if we kept walking in the direction we were headed, we would come to water taxis that would take us to Venice.

I still could not believe how easy this was. The one place I was most worried about getting to was turning out to be the easiest place to get to. The water taxi area was alive with tourists coming and going. A private taxi was ridiculously expensive so we opted for a water bus where a roundtrip ticket for the four of us was cheaper than a one way private water boat.

Before I knew it, we were on the boat heading to the destination of my dreams.

Venice.