So I am fairly positive that there is no such thing as a Venitian. I don’t think a single person in Venice is actually from Venice. This may give the idea that the city is vacant, no locals, somewhat of a dreary place. On the contrary though, the city is more stuffed than a calzone. Before Claire and I arrived I read that Venice is one of the most visited cities in the world. That made perfect sense to me because of what a unique city it is, but I had no idea how many people are in the most visited city in the world. Tourist-wise Venice is awful. You can’t go anywhere without running into a traffic jam, bumping into someone, or bein forced to move like a pencil through the narrow passageways. That said, minus all the humans, Venice is stunning.
Why aren’t there more cities in the world like this? It looks just like I thought it would and yet so different. Every 25-50 feet you have to cross a bridge, take a forced left or climb some stairs. The city is a maze- making it impossible to find anything on purpose and making every discovery an accident. Claire and I tried to retrace our steps to find a shop one day but we didn’t have the foggiest idea how to get back. The storeowner had given us a map but that was like giving a blind person a popsicle- a really nice gesture but a useless directional tool. We didn’t even bother checking the map. Instead though we wandered down some new streets in the direction of the store, ended up over shooting it, and then we emerged on the opposite side from where we’d found it the day before. Big name brand stores like Cartier and Timberland served as important reference points with their intrusive gold and black lettered signs. While small boutiques and tourist shops stocked with “NO FALSE” Venetian glass and leather stores made the quest more quaint but not more enjoyable.
For better or worse we booked our stay in Venice only days before we actually arrived and so we never actually stayed on the island. Instead we stayed in small towns around it and on an sweet island called Lido. It was initially disappointing but ended up being a blessing because we probably would have come back to France bald as a result of pulling every last hair out due to the frustratingly crowded streets.
As one point, for a bit of lightness and a respite from the crowds, Claire and I purchased a magical looking chocolate and powdered sugar covered treat. We exited the store and sought refuge in an abandoned passageway. Now to make this story make more sense, you have to understand that Venice is filled with delicious looking food. The people crowding the streets are never without a cone of gelato, a tasty looking wrap, a piece of pizza or something delicious in hand. More than once I found myself stopped in my tracks, gawking at what a couple had on their plates, until a second later I would remember that I am not invisible and that they could see me. At that point, I would hurry off to salivate in a more appropriate location. So many times though we would see a delicious looking something in a small boys hand and then search for it in vain. “Can’t I just sneak over and take a bite?” I asked Claire on more than one occasion. “It seems unfair that they get to eat that all to themselves and we don’t even get one bite.” Two or three times I came close because the food looked So. Damn. Good. Sadly for my stomach and pleasure center though, I restrained myself every time. Finally though, it was my turn to have a delicious something that no one else could eat. The first bite was so amazing that I closed my eyes so I could fully enjoy every subtle flavor and texture this chocolate pastry had to offer me. Claire, laughing at my overreaction (highly appropriate reaction) to the pastry, stepped to the side on me to photography my delight. When I opened my eyes to sink my teeth into the next bite, Claire and I were no longer alone in the alley. There was a middle aged Italian man inches from my face attempting to bite into my pastry. The sheer shock of it propelled a scream from the depths of my stomach. This man, only making the same joke Claire and I had been making for the past three days, was caught completely off guard. He quickly scooted off and rounded the corner but not before turning back one last time to laugh at us and with us, as Claire and I were doubled over, each chuckle snowing powdered sugar on the sinking streets of Venice.
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