Venezia.

We wake up and get to the train station. The ride is about 5 hours, and the route takes us through the Austrian and Italian Alps. There is an historic railway in Austria between Vienna and the border near Italy called the Semmering Pass Railway. It is considered one of the most beautiful railways in the world. The Alps tower above us, and we cross beautiful brick bridges over sweeping green and trees. We go in and out of mountains. We can’t take our eyes from the windows.

We arrive in Venice early in the afternoon, crossing the lagoon, coming out of the train station to the Grand Canal. We make our way to the bus station across the Canal to ride the shuttle to our hostel. The bus takes us across the lagoon again, to a camp site about 15 minutes away. We check into our tents.

Our first order of business is to find accomodations in the city center.

Unable to find anything within our price range on the internet, we go back across the lagoon on the shuttle bus, which charges a fee after the initial pickup. We go to a hotel reservation desk. The cheapest room we can get for one night will cost €120 for a double bed. We take it. After all, 120 split four ways is only 30 each.

After booking the room, we catch a waterbus to Saint Mark’s Square. The ride is about half an hour, but the nature of the city makes the ride beautiful and fun. Venice is nothing short of fantastic. An entire city built upon hundreds of thousands of wooden pilings. It floats there in the lagoon, and it is absolutely stunning. Gondolas cruise up and down the Canal, dodging water taxis and waterbuses. Lights cast magnificent reflections, sparkling in ripples across the water. There are no cars. There are no bicycles. It is magic.

Traghetto-fabulous.

We arrive at Saint Mark’s. I buy birdfeed from a vendor, and put in my hand. Pigeons flock (no pun intended) to my arm. It is a strange sensation; pigeons are a little heavier than I thought, and their feet tickle as they jockey for a position to the veritable feast in my palm. It is invigorating.

St. Mark’s Square.

Afterwards, we walk to our hotel to see where it is for tomorrow. We find a restaurant nearby, and I wash my hands. We spend the rest of the evening walking through the city, moving up and down alleys and across bridges, eating gelato. We take the waterbus back to the bus station, and ride back to the campsite. I stay up for a bit talking with Kevan while Holly and Tyler go out for Holly’s birthday. A thunderstorm rolls in. I feel like I’m at summer camp.

We wake up the next morning and check out of the campground. We take the shuttle in and take the waterbus to the Rialto Bridge, disembark, and walk to the hotel. I check in with Kevan in case there is a policy against four people sharing a two-person room. We simply cannot afford another, and we’re not taking chances. We go up to our room, open the windows out to a beautiful piazza

View from our window.

and signal for Tyler and Holly to come up. We shower and get ready for the day. The girls go off to shop at Rialto, I plan initially to sketch and photograph, but first I need to take care of a situation with our train tickets—I had booked an extra ticket for Tyler to ride back with us to Vienna, but she is flying directly back to Antwerp instead, so I need to cancel her train reservation and possibly get a refund.

I end up walking to the train station. It’s about an hour walk, but it is a beautiful walk, so I don’t mind. I get to the train station and there is a long line at the ticket counter. A sign nearby reads, “RAILWAY STRIKE TOMORROW! SOME ROUTES AFFECTED!” I love Italy.

I get up to the ticket counter and explain the situation. The attendant at the desk is helpful, and the reservation is changed, but I need to get the refund in Vienna where I bought the ticket. No problem. I walk back in good spirits.

Upon arriving at the hotel, I find Tyler, who is visibly upset. “Sorry I’m late,” I say. “I got lost...”
“We’re getting kicked out of our room.”

Hmm.

It unfolds that somone at the hotel had found that we are exceeding the maximum capacity in our room, and such a thing is against the law. Tyler explains that we have two choices: get another room for another €80 or find somewhere else. The girls start talking about going back to the campground. I go back downstairs to talk to the manager. I reason with him and bargain down to €60 for the other room. Not optimal, but it will do. Besides, it’s the city center of Venice.

After the hotel situation is smoothed out, we go out again. We have dinner and hire a gondola.

Kevan and Holly in the gondola.

We go to Saint Mark’s Square again, and I defy my fear of heights by going to the top of the bell tower of the church. The view of the sun setting over the lagoon is unbelievable. I come back down enchanted and proud.

A view from the top.

We walk around for a while longer, then it is time to go back to the hotel.

I am woken up the next morning by Tyler, who is frantically trying to explain to me that she needs to get to the airport. We put her on her way. Later in the morning, we go to the train station to leave. We have an hour in the station, and I finally have some time to sit with my sketchbook.

Then we board the train.

A family comes to our compartment with tickets matching our reservations. It hits me that when I went to the train station yesterday, the guy probably cancelled all of our reservations, not just Tyler’s. The grandmother goes to find a ticket controller, and they are moved.

Halfway through the trip, more people come into our compartment. It is a nightmare. This time, the ticket controller doesn’t come back for an hour. Meanwhile, people we don’t know are sitting in our seats amongst our things. It is a dreadful experience. Finally, the ticket controller comes back and moves one of the passengers so that the three of us can fit in the compartment. Then we go to have dinner in the restaurant car. The slow service, which I do not complain about in Europe, is too much for me, so I go back to the crowded compartment and sleep until we get home.

Venice is hugely popular with tourists. So much so that Venetians are being displaced by tourists and wealthy Westerners who take holidays there. It is rare now to find Venetians who live in the city center; it is too expensive. More often is the case that they live across the lagoon in cheaper housing and commute to the city to work. Somehow I think this made me realize that it’s not about the bike. The point is not to blend in or become European. It is simply not to bring the American way here. Europe must be preserved. We must become the orchard. To absorb and appreciate, not to assimilate and take over, not to consume or bastardize. Basically, not to be American. I love America, but it does not belong here.

In spite of the series of unfortunate events that transpired, Venice is still Venice, which is incredible, and it is Italy, which I love. Being at the top of the bell tower in Saint Mark’s, watching the sun go down over the lagoon, the sky turning swirls of purple, orange, pink, lights twinkling over the water, I decided that I would have to live in Italy someday. I want to settle there. Not to bring the American way, but to live the Italian way. To slow down and appreciate and love life and be grateful for it.