AdVeniceTures

You know in Star Wars: The Empire Strikes back, when you get that first shot of Lando's cloud city and you're like: "woah, that's sure an unlikely place for people to be living! I wonder how that place came to be?"... you don't? Okay. Well, pretend you do. That is exactly the feeling/thought I had when flying into Marco Polo Airport in Venezia. You fly basically out over the sea for a little while, then loop back around and land. But the kicker is: the entire time you're over what is presumably sea, there are lines and patches that look decidedly unnatural and seem to indicate human habitation.

While I have always understood the concept of Venice, in theory, I don't think you can ever really appreciate the tangible reality of the place until you've been there. And even then, it feels like Epcot Center a little, because the idea of the place is just so unlikely. But all of that is beside the point, because, unlikely as it might be, Venice is real, and that's where I spent the last two days.

Amanda, a girl from American University in D.C., invited me and five other girls to join her in the floating city this weekend. We bought our plane tickets, which only cost about 68 euro round-trip, last week. I don't think I'll ever be able to get over the concept of "Oh, let's catch a cheap 50-minute flight to Venice for the weekend, no big deal". We all had some ideas about what we wanted to see there, but nothing set in stone. This is precisely the way I like to do things. I think being too regimented in what you need to do in a place kills the discovery of it. It is sort of like visiting Disneyworld and focusing so much on which rides and attractions you need to get to that you miss the parade and the fireworks. It's the best part!

Okay, no more Disney metaphors (I think). We left Rome at 4.00 am on Friday and took off from Fiumicino at 6.10, which kinda sucked, but you do what you gotta do. We arrived in Venice around 7.00 and took a bus to the city proper. We then walked around taking pictures of everything and nothing (and GONDOLAS! Gah!) for awhile... I dragged everyone along with me into some churches, which they all accepted with good grace, before we took a water-bus called a vaporetto to San Marco Square to really start the tourist day off right.

Now, a word on water buses. Did you ever stop to wonder how the people in Venice get around, and do all the stuff that normal, non-aquatic people do? They don't all just float around in picture-esque gondolas all day singing "when the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie"... that would get old really fast for everyone involved. No, Venice has all the same vehicles as Rome, Kalamazoo, New York, Great Falls have, except all of them are boats. Buses, taxis, mail trucks, cop cars, even ambulances. No, this isn't surprising for a city to have all these things, it's just odd to see an ambulance zooming down a canal, bobbing on the waves and blaring its siren.

But anyway, when we got to San Marco Square, I was chomping at the bit to go to San Zaccaria, a church not too far away which houses an early Venetian Renaissance altarpiece by Bellini, which I've studied in class. I was itching to see some of the really great examples of Venetian High Renaissance art now that I was in Venice and could grasp the stylistic influences more fully. Ultimately, we split into two groups: those of us (me, Darrian and Amanda, who were good sports and didn't abandon me to my own devices) who were going to San Zaccaria and then to wherever life took us, and those heretics who were going to one of the modern art museums. This isn't a good time to talk about my feelings on modern art, and especially that in Italy, so I won't.

San Zaccaria was all that I could have hoped for, and while I didn't have nearly the breathless reaction that I've had to things before (specifically Michelangelo), I was able to give Darrian and Amanda a brief lesson on Venetian style and Renaissance symbolism. Shockingly, they were both very interested and asked more questions! I'm used to being told in some capacity to shut up when I start rhapsodizing, wether it be with glazed expressions or quick changes of subject. Even more unexpectedly, they told me that they wanted to go to the Accademia (the museum of Renaissance painting in Venice) if I would tell them more of what I knew. I was basically floored by this.

So we made our way from San Zaccaria, leisurely through San Marco square (which is INSANE. Way too many people, way too many pigeons) and through the winding streets of Venice, none of which has room for a car to drive even if there was a way it could get there. Incidentally, Venice is extremely quiet compared to Rome. It IS the absence of cars. It's incredible how much of a difference it makes. We got cut off sometimes when a street would just end in a canal, so we did a lot of doubling back, but we saw a whole lot of Venice this way.

We got to the Accademia, and when I told the admissions lady that I was an art history student, she let me in free! It was so cool, and so gratifying, since I don't think I'll ever MAKE any money with this major, at least I might SAVE some from time to time! As we walked through, I would point certain things out in paintings, mostly those symbolic traits and common occurances that appear throughout religious art, and give a brief explaination of why it was there and where it originated (if I knew; I tried my best not to make stuff up) and when we came upon them again, I would ask Amanda and Darrian what it meant and where we'd seen it before. This is precisely the kind of puzzle-cracking that got me fascinated with art in the first place, and it was amazingly exciting and gratifying to see two other people make the same connections with my help. I had so much fun. Teaching is possibly the best thing ever. Granted, my first official lesson teaching art history came with the added bonus of being able to stand right in front of a Titian, Bellini or Veronese while I was talking about it, but that was just the cherry on top of the exhileration of sharing my knowledge. Best thing about the trip, hands down.

Later, a few hours after we had left that museum and wandered around for a bit, Darrian and I were waiting for Amanda while she was in a public restroom, and this middle-aged American guy came up to me and said: "You really should be a tour guide. I've never learned that much in a museum before. We were listening in on your tour. You know a lot." Wow. There's just nothing better than that. I thanked him and we talked for awhile. His lucky kids (the oldest of whom is twelve) are getting to experience Europe at a very young age. I really hope they can enjoy some of the incredible memories they'll make here; their dad gave me one that I'll treasure forever.

We bummed around for a little while longer, walking along the Rialto and exclaiming over all the beauty, surreality, blah blah blah, and then met the other 4 for dinner. We went to this little hole in the wall with a mostly local clientelle, and ate delicious seafood. What better thing to eat when sitting in the middle of the sea? Afterward, we went to this gellateria that Casey had heard about in her guidebook, and ate amazing, possibly some of the best I've had yet, gelatto. Green tea and ginger? Yes please.

We took two buses out of Venice to get to our hostel in Fusina. There was a little bit of a hectic patch where Casey failed to make it into our second bus before the door slammed in her face and we zoomed off. That was a bit stressful. But we finally all made it safe and sound to the hostel, Camping Fusina, where we shared tiny cabins which each slept two people. It was loud, and there were many many Austrailians drinking at the local pub, and all of them were basically turning the place into a giant shitshow, but we all konked out pretty fast. Waking up at 3.45 and going to sleep at midnight will do that. And really, the hostel was very pleasant, and not at all the horror show I was expecting. The Austrailians were more funny than anything, and, I'm not going to lie, the boys were nice to look at, too.

Saturday morning we split up into our groups again, with me, Amanda and Darrian going to Murano to basically lick the windows in front of the glassware, and the other four going to yet another modern art museum. The boat ride to Murano was so cool, and the island itself is very very beautiful, but not as beautiful as the stuff they make there. I won't try to explain Murano glass, because if you don't already know what I'm talking about, my explanation won't help you.

We went back to Venice to explore the Doge's Palace, home of the largest oil painting ever done (it's no giant ball of twine, but what're you gonna do?), then had lunch at another seafood restaurant, where Amanda and I ordered what we thought were 33 cent beers. Turns out the menu had a typo-ish thing, and our Italian obviously didn't help clear it up, because that was the size of the beer, not the price. Still, it tasted soooo good after walking around that I really didn't mind (too much) paying 5 euro for it. Oh well.

We met the others at Alaska (the gelatteria) again for one last hurrah before leaving Venice. At the airport, going through security, I got stopped because I'm an idiot and had brought my leatherman with me. I didn't get stopped in Rome, so it didn't even cross my mind until the security guy beckoned me over to him. Well, faced with the prospect of leaving my Christmas present from Mom and Dad behind in Venice, I began to cry. It's true what they say about Italian men: you cry in front of them, and you get what you want. He told me to go out and check my backpack and he would let me back through security with no problem. So, I'm out 22 euro for the bag check, but it serves me right for being an idiot.

Our plane was delayed half an hour, but that's nothing compared to my normal effect on aircraft of any kind, so I didn't mind. The French woman sitting next to Christine in the waiting area did ask her if Darrian and I had been smoking marijuana when we began, in our befuddled and sleep-deprived state, to recite "The Mysterious Ticking Noise" amid giggles and snorts that come from around 10 hours of sleep in two days. Bitch.

But we made it home to Rome around 11, and I immediately fell into my bed and slept hard until this morning. I'm off to the botanical gardens for the afternoon. Venice was an amazing, revalatory experience, but I'm glad to be back in familiar surroundings where I know where I am and where I'm going. I guess, now that I've had my first teaching experience, in more ways than one.