Bella Venezia

I’m waiting for my overnight train to Vienna. It departs from here at 1:30.

I spent the day in Venice today.

I was delayed slightly by the realization that I arrive in Vienna tomorrow and have nowhere to stay. I thought it was best to book that before I left this morning, but it wasn’t too late of a start. I made it to Venice before the crowds. When I was staying with Dwight, he told me that the city was best at night when the cruise ships had gone and the crowds dispersed.

I found that to be true of the morning, too. Plus, I feel like the main attraction of Venice is the city itself. You can see churches and museums, but I decided I’d rather spend my day exploring. I went without a map and just wandered.

I took as many back alleys as possible and tried to stay away from the crowds. I made the obligatory stop in St Marcos Square, and inevitably stumbled upon some busy streets. I enjoyed looking through shops with handmade masks and murano glass. Mostly, I just tried to soak it in. My overwhelming impression of the city of Venice is the color salmon/coral… That orangey pink. It’s also much stranger than I expected to see buildings come straight out of water. I didn’t really think about it at all, but the aesthetic was really bizarre and lovely.

I stumbled upon an interesting little place that calls itself the most beautiful bookshop in the world. I bought some beautiful gifts for a few loved ones, and made a trip to an Italian post office (which evidently have lengthy waits). I took a break at a cafe with wifi and booked my next series of hostels and trains.

In the evening, I found a small restaurant in an alley with €1 wine and a lovely staff. They played Beatles tunes. And I wrote a little vignette from my day:

Excerpt from Venezia:

Weary of winding its narrow path through the brick and salmon walls of Venice, the alley gives itself up to a lonesome piazza. A old man sits shrouded in dusk, playing his violin to the fluttering white tablecloths and the stark stones. His melancholy tune rises up to chase the last streaks of sunlight from the sky. Like a yearning heart, the melody repeats itself relentlessly. Figures pass through the square in twos and threes. Those who hear the song echo in their soup momentarily forget how to breathe, until the thud of coins against a violin case break the spell. As if a few coins could quench the sorrow or staunch the longing.


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