So here I am, walking around Venice at four in the morning, feeling
very upset, yet at the same time very happy with my decision. I don't
normally buy into new-agey stuff, but it was like those people were
just bad news, and simply getting out of their physical presence and
the negative vibes they were putting off immediately brightened my
mood. Not to mention that I had taken control of my trip again; I was
not going to let them spoil this for me. And immediately I was taken
by this city.
The air was cold, but this time I was bundled up, protected. The most
amazing thing about Venice at night - it completely shuts down. I'm
used to New York, where there's always somebody out there. But from
four to five am, I saw maybe five people. It was fantastic; with
Wilco's Kicking Television as my soundtrack, calming my frazzled mind,
the city was mine to discover.
It's funny how the little things really grab hold of you. Venice is
covered with alley dogs, and as I left the hostel I saw one of them
staring at me from across the piazza. I slowly approached it, and put
my hand up to its nose. He even wagged his tail for a bit. But when I
reached out to pet him, he put his tail between his legs and ran back
20 feet, cowering. My heart broke - I wanted to slowly feed this dog
until it trusted me, then bring it home. It was the most adorable
thing. As I walked on, for about two or three hundred meters he
followed me, always staying twenty or thirty feet back. Oh, I was in
love!
Eventually he began to feel uncomfortable, and I stopped seeing him in
the corner of my eye. But the city's simple charms revealed themselves
to me. Clothes drying over a canal. Renaissance-style homes lit up at
night. A charming japanese tea house/inn, where I'm definetly staying
when I come back. A trash bag randomly suspended inches above the
ground by a string stretching three stories high. The glimmer of
lights off the water. Stumbling upon a stunning marble palace, with no
one but you to admire it. Viewing a thousand year old church,
seemingly abandoned. Navigating the tiny alleyways of a beautiful
city, paused in time, able to meander at your own pace, surely but
steadly reaching your goal. It was magic.
I reached the main bridge crossing the Grand Canal right as blue was
beginning to cross the sky. I decided to unplug the music and simply
hear the birds chirp and watch the city come back to life. For the
next half an hour I got to watch the sun rise over the Grand Canal.
At one point I thought, this is just out of a picture in a museum.
Then I realized this very scene, at this very angle, probably is
hanging in some museum somewhere, painted by some master. In fact, I
had a déjà-vu feeling the whole time.
By six I had had enough of the sun, and was ready to head off to Paris
to see Levin and immerse myself in the familiar. However, upon
arriving at the train station (a piece of facist archetecture that
stands in a depressing contrast to the rest of the city), I found that
while I could make the connection to Milan no problem, the TGV to
Paris was booked solid for the next four days. Damn Easter. I grabbed
some (very expensive) fresh squeezed OJ and a few croissents, and
hopped on the next train to Milan, hoping to maybe catch a last-minute
cancellation. Worse comes to worse, I'd just go to Rome for Easter; I
had a reservation anyway.
I really wish I had gotten to see more of Venice, and if I get the
chance again this trip I'd like to go back. But despite it all, Venice
will remain one of the highlights of my trip.
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