You know when you open up a fresh word document and you find yourself staring at it blankly for 5, 10, 45 minutes? Well I have come to the conclusion that this only happens for two reasons. The first is because you really have absolutely no clue what to write. Like when you slept through The Hobbit in your high school English class because the possibility that there might just be an essay on it slipped your mind… yeah I’ve been there. On the other hand, with the second reason you have an idea of what to write but either there is too much to write about or the event was too epic to put into words. My trip to Venice falls into the latter.
Before even arriving in Italy I had done some research and had found that Venice has one of the best Carnivale Festivals, which is a huge party that takes place on the Fat Tuesday before Easter. It takes place for ten days and everyone dresses up in bright colors and wears masks. For the locals and regulars, they dress in the most elaborate and splendid costumes. The holiday actually has roots that date pretty far back. The original purpose of the masks were to hide the persons face so that no one knew what social class people were from. It was a holiday where the rich interacted with the poor and the poor with the rich. I knew right away I wanted to go to this! Who would miss out on a massive masquerade party?! Not me… and so we made plans straight away.
A total of five us were going together: Ross and Tommy who were both from my university, Amy another American from Louisiana and Laura our European recruit from Wales. We got our tickets for a good price because we booked early enough and we found a hostel for a decent price outside of Venice. A large majority of the hostels had been long ago booked and anything on the actual main island of Venice was way out of our college student budget.
The day of departure rolled around and we were all at the train station ready to go. Let me just say this… dealing with trains is a huge pain. On this particular trip our train was late by about 15 minutes, which dramatically cut into our 20 minutes transfer slot at Lambrate When we arrived at the station we jumped off the train, and ran to the board. Quickly we tried to match our ticket to the information. It felt like we had been standing there for ages before any of us found it. “There it is. Platform 8!” The words were barely out of their mouth, before we had already taken off. We hurled ourselves down the corridor and out of breath slid around the corner of platform 8. Without a moment’s pause we leapt up the stairs dodging around people. “Scusi, Scusi! Premesso!” we cried out. As we reached the top of the stairs we sighed with relief; the train was still there. However, just as we thought we were in the clear the whistle sounded. “Hurry its leaving!” we shouted at each other in case one of us happened to miss the ear splitting screech intended to warn any by standers that the doors were about to be closed. One after the other we hoisted ourselves onto the train. As the last of us stepped aboard the doors clicked and slid closed. We had made it… talk about a close call!
Out of breath we found some seats. We eventually arrived in Venice around nine o’clock and after a bus ride we made it to our hotel. It was an odd place. Since we had an odd number we had booked a triple room for the three girls and a twin double for the guys. Walking into the room Laura and I busted up laughing. Our room had this hideous multi-colored chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The bed spreads were these messes of colors, the furniture seemed to lean awkwardly tilted to one side, and so that is how it got dubbed the “clown brothel room”. It was ridiculous! Then it hit. The room had this gut wrenching odor to it, like sewage back up. As I slunk off to the boys’ room to get away from the smell, Laura decided to ask what the problem might be. She went up to the lady and told her about the smell and asked if she knew if there was something going on there. The response she got was: “I am getting off in 10 minutes”. My response to that when Laura reenacted the scene was: “aannnnddd her point? Our room smells like sewage now and will still smell like that in 10 minutes! I don’t care if she gets off in one minute…” Now if you are anticipating some “roll-up-your-sleeve-and-go-tell-them-girl-story” let me just say it didn’t happen. It was obvious that some people are just not made for customer service and that lady was clearly a shining example. The boys’ room, while lacking the smell, was just as odd. Their room was this baby blue color with this huge mirror and a kamasutra wardrobe… really, this is no joke. One can only hope that they will invest in a better interior designer the next time they decide to remodel.
Leaving our clown brothel room and baby blue nightmare, we embarked on our reoccurring mission: the search for food! Now this might sound ridiculous to those who are used to the American way of life, but to those of you who have experienced Italy first hand you know that this can be quite a task. There are no 24 hour supermarkets in which you can wonder down a bijjilion isles and pick out the optimum frozen dinner. There are no fast food restaurants. Well there are, they just aren’t our ideal of fast food. They are not open all hours of the night, with dollar menus and greasy food that could induce a heart attack. No, their fast food consists of pizzerias and kebobs… if you can find them. Kebobs are this type of food from turkey and possibly other Middle East areas. I will be honest; I don’t know much about their origins except that it is definitely typical food in Turkey. I also know that kebobs have grown on us all and quite a few of our stories now involve kebob shops… but those are for another time. Back to Venice. Now on this particular night we had walked for about 20-30 minutes before finally coming across a single restaurant that still had its lights on and open. We went in and ordered. It was your typical pizzeria… except not. Everything we ordered was very different from the usual choices. I got some pizza with asparagus on it, but Ross when all out in the weird pizza department. He ordered some pizza that read what we thought meant with horse meat. Sure enough, this pizza came out with this odd looking meat, which we knew must be horse. I tried it, but considering I particularly like horses (alive) it was too weird for me. I know, I know. I eat cows. Cows are cute and innocent too… but I guess I just haven’t been conditioned to eat horse. After dinner we all opted to try a dessert. We each had an affigato. It is a type of dessert with a flavor of gelato that they cover in expresso. Pretty tasty if I do say so myself and worth a try if you make it to Italy. Now just to state the obvious, traveling takes a lot out of you, especially when you spend a portion of it running down train platforms, praying you don’t miss your connection. So after our walk back we all passed out.
We woke up the next morning to a sunny bright blue sky. We were all relieved with this discovery because the forecast had predicted snow, rain, and cold all around for the entire weekend. This would have put a damper on the trip seeing how we were outside the whole time. We lumbered downstairs to the breakfast room. We paid the extra 5 euros for breakfast, under the illusion it was a huge buffet. We got down stairs and every table was covered in used dishes. No fresh food has been brought out since the horde of wild maniacs plowed through it earlier. About the only thing remaining were soggy crepes and bread rolls. So our solution: sit there and drink as much juice and coffee you could hold, and steal rolls to use for lunch. It is not stealing if we paid for it actually, and I am sorry but I am not paying five euro for a bread roll, butter, and a coffee that would maybe cost me 2 euros max at an actual bar. Plan initiated we quickly grabbed our rolls and headed for our 10 am shuttle. The one good thing that this hotel had going for them was that they had a shuttle that took us directly to Venice and back from outside our hotel.
Upon being dropped off, we crossed over this big bridge and were in the main area of Venice. About five minutes later we had already lost each other. The boys were much faster walkers and Laura and I were too busy ahhhhhing and ooohhhhing at the beauty of Venice to keep up.
With the realization that we had lost the boys we called them up on our handy-dandy TIM phones.
“Conditional forwarding call charges activated” my phone paused to tell me as I waited for Ross to pick up.
“Hey, where are you guys?” I heard his familiar voice ask.
“Oh you know, lost as usual… No but really you guys left us,” I laughed.
“Learn to keep up,” was his all too familiar reply.
“I’ll work on that. Ummm where should we meet?”
“How about we all make our way to St. Marco Square? Sound good?”
“Yep… except one problem. You have the map.”
“There are signs all over the place for it with arrows. I promise even you can find it,” he assured me. In case you haven’t noticed from this conversation, my direction skills are pretty much nonexistent. When it comes to orientating myself in a new city, I am lost. I can recognize buildings and landmarks, but I cannot place where I am in relation to something else. However, Ross has an uncanny knack/talent for this. It is almost like he can look at a map and visualize it perfectly in his mind. He can pick a direction, with streets he has never seen before and know that at the very least he is headed in the right direction.
“Oh I see them. See you later. Take your time, because I know we won’t be there anytime soon,” I said as I hung up the phone. Turning to Laura I explained our scavenger hunt. We were to find and follow the San Marco Square signs painted randomly on the buildings. For the most part we did this well. Okay, I admit there was one section I am pretty sure we made a complete square around the block but either way we didn’t mind. We stopped and browsed in the little shops. There were masks all over the place, beautiful hand-crafted masks. I eventually found one to wear which I bought from a lady who made them with her mother. This one was in my price range but there were definitely ones that were well out of it. These masks were gorgeous! I don’t know if Prada knows this, but Venetian Carnivale masks are at a competing price as their purses… no joke. There were shops selling Murano glass, bread shops that shaped their breads into the shapes of faces and animals, and a pizza shop selling the biggest pizza I have ever seen in my life.
It was around noon when we finally made our way to San Marco Square, and we were not the only ones! It was jammed packed with masses of people and a huge stage. We finally found the guys, and by found I mean called them and strategically placed ourselves in an accessible location to be found. Once we were all together we opted to look around at the square for a bit and see all the costumes, and of course find more sustainable food. I admit that we didn’t see much of the “sights” of Venice as we spent our day soaking in the festivities of Carnivale. We did this all day. Sure we explored San Marco and went inside, but other than that we literally just walked around Venice.
We turned around corners that led to dead ends, went into random shops, and eventually stumbled upon vino caldo. You know you are Italy when it’s cold and they bring out the hot spiced wine instead of the cider. I had to try it and it was darn tasty! Before we knew it was dinner time again; we were in Venice, and we had come to the realization we were too poor to eat on this island as a 25 euro pizza fell slightly outside our price range. However, as I stood there in that square sipping my hot wine with my purple masquerade mask on, I was content. I was with great people in a beautiful city in which I had fallen in love with in a matter of hours. Plus, how many times can you wear a mask and no one looks at you weird? Yeah life was good and even better when we found an affordable dinner. The dinner itself was not great. It was geared towards tourists but we got the most food for our euro. We got an appetizer, first dish, and second dish. Venice was all but shut down at this time, and we called to see if there was room on an earlier shuttle. Much to our luck there was and we went back to the hotel around 10.
We turned around corners that led to dead ends, went into random shops, and eventually stumbled upon vino caldo. You know you are Italy when it’s cold and they bring out the hot spiced wine instead of the cider. I had to try it and it was darn tasty! Before we knew it was dinner time again; we were in Venice, and we had come to the realization we were too poor to eat on this island as a 25 euro pizza fell slightly outside our price range. However, as I stood there in that square sipping my hot wine with my purple masquerade mask on, I was content. I was with great people in a beautiful city in which I had fallen in love with in a matter of hours. Plus, how many times can you wear a mask and no one looks at you weird? Yeah life was good and even better when we found an affordable dinner. The dinner itself was not great. It was geared towards tourists but we got the most food for our euro. We got an appetizer, first dish, and second dish. Venice was all but shut down at this time, and we called to see if there was room on an earlier shuttle. Much to our luck there was and we went back to the hotel around 10.
The next day was again a day of sunny blue sky. The morning routine was about the same and when we made it to Venice we decided to take a ferry to Muarno Island. This is one of the islands off the coast of Venice and is famous for its glass blowing. We went to a glass blowing demonstration and it was mind boggling. It was phenomenal! The master started out with this bubbling hot blob and then after some pinching and pulling with some prongs, a couple of blows through the long rod the blob expanded into the recognizable shape of a vase. We all clapped with astonishment as he walks around showing the audience his work. He then proceeded to get another blob of bubbling glass and he started shaping it with tongs as if he is simply playing with Play-dough. In a matter of minutes the figure of a horse emerged! Ah so cool… that’s all I can say…. so cool!
When we decided to head back to Venice we stood with this mass of people on this barge that rocked back and forth. The boat finally emerged and Laura and I were pushed on. We turned to see Ross, Tommy, and Amy getting stopped by the ferryman. “Basta! (That is it!)” he called out to the remaining people. “Get the next ferry and meet us at San Marco!” we shouted to them. Not long after I received a text from Ross. He informed me that they had indeed taken the next ferry. However, their ferry had gone the opposite direction then we had. Therefore, they had no clue where they were headed, and would meet us as planned when they figured that minor detail out.
On our end, our ferry ride was far from uneventful. People had swarmed onto the boat and we had gotten pushed into this little crevice with some strangers. If I was claustrophobic I would have been freaking out. As it was I was squished past my comfort zone and too make matters worse this rather large women pushed her way down the stairs. Laura stepped in closer to me to make room for the woman to pass, but she didn’t. She just stood there. At this point Laura and I were pretty much sandwiched together. “Sorry, I thought she was going to keep pushing through” she whispered into my ear. “Me too, it’s okay,” I replied. But as I looked at her neither one of us could stifle a laugh. I was awkwardly leaning to one side to avoid touching this unkempt guy who was missing a good portion of his teeth. Due to this I found myself face to face with this rather intimidating woman. She wasn’t much older than me, maybe in her late 20’s. However, with her hair died this bright red color and piercings all over and a variety of tattoo art up her arm; I did my best to make eye contact minimum. Then the ferry slammed into the barge. The first thought that popped into my mind was: “Great! I am going to go down in this boat like this!” The water sloshed up hitting the side of the window and all around you heard the gasps of the un-expecting passengers. Maybe a little over dramatic, but let me tell you it was freaky. The second that ferry arrived at Venice I made my way off.
We meandered around the dock looking at the work of local artists and followed the costumed people around the square like paparazzi with Brittney Spears.
Eventually our group reunited and we decided to do dinner the cheapest way we knew how: wine, bread and cheese. However we were in luck. On their way back to the square Ross, Tommy, and Amy had found a Foccoceria with cheap food right across the way from the market. So we bought our goods, and like greedy little peasants we sat huddled in the corner with our prized food. We passed the wine, shared the cheese and munched on our different types of foccocia.
Eventually our group reunited and we decided to do dinner the cheapest way we knew how: wine, bread and cheese. However we were in luck. On their way back to the square Ross, Tommy, and Amy had found a Foccoceria with cheap food right across the way from the market. So we bought our goods, and like greedy little peasants we sat huddled in the corner with our prized food. We passed the wine, shared the cheese and munched on our different types of foccocia.
So you know how I said earlier that this trip was epic? Well I find myself in a bind. Do I tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth? Or do I keep this blog completely PG? After much thought I have decided that what happens in Venice, stays in Venice. However with that being said I will say that I would be lying if I told you that all I did was travel and do school. As a foreign exchange student your life becomes one jumbled up adventure 24/7. You are young, wild, and crazy… and in another country where no one truly knows you. You test your limits, learn something new about yourself every day, and try things that maybe you never could or would do back home. No, I do not break the law if this is what you are thinking… promise! Some common sense and boundaries do stay with you. However you will learn that everything becomes justified with “when in Italy… when’s the next time you will be back here… you are only in Erasmus once…” and this mindset leads to some crazy memories.
The next morning after putting our crazy night of adventures together, one puzzle piece at a time we grabbed our stuff and headed for our shuttle. We had found out our train departed from Venice and not the station at which we got off at. Therefore, we had to take the shuttle back to the island. However, the shuttle guy was late leaving and we immediately knew we were going to be cutting it close. We pulled up to the curb and we still had to go across the bridge down a street and then into the station, find our train and go to that platform… in less than 15 minutes. The others let us out first and we grabbed our backpacks and broke into a sprint. We were on the mad train dash… AGAIN! This time we had a much longer way to run. We ran across the busy bridge, dodging through the hordes of picture-taking tourists. We ran down the street past all the venders and into the station. As we continued our run the girls began to slow down. The train seemed so far away and I knew that if the whistle sounded at that moment I wouldn’t make it. However, we all did… cutting it close yet again. Out of breath we grabbed our seats. We were on our way to Verona!
Verona is on the way to Venice and we figured why not stop and spend a quiet day there on the way home. So that is what we did. We got off the train and wondered around. We followed Rick Steve’s self-guided tour stopping every now and again to read the about the sights. We spent a lot of time at the market and even bought some fresh veggies. We found a bridge and in good American fashion “popped a squat”. As we sat there taking in the scenery and munching on fresh carrots we were all content. When traveling the worst thing to do is to always be on the go. Sometimes you need to slow down and relax and the bridge was the perfect place. Of course we were in Verona so we girls were bound and determined to see the House of Juliet. Now is a good time to point out that this house is not real and therefore a complete tourist trap. We had run into a girl that was very upset at this discovery. Romeo and Juliet are fictional characters. They never existed and therefore their house cannot be genuine. However, their characters are based off of two actual feuding families that did exist at this time. However, it is the symbolization of true love and young romance that people go to find there. In my opinion the Letters to Juliet movie makes it look cooler than what it really is. However, we did write on the wall and followed suit with the legend. If you aren’t familiar with the legend it goes like this: there is a bronze statue of Juliet that sits in the courtyard. If you touch her left breast she will help you with love. So poor Juliet sits there and gets molested by tourists from opening hours to closing time… and yes I am guilty as charged. We will just have to see if good ol’ Juliet comes through for me. J
