Voluptuous Venice…
Arrived in Venice early this morning. From the train station, we trekked down the steps and straight up to buy tickets for the vaporetto or canal buses.
Venice can only be described as serendipitous (where you find a totally sensational place as if by accident). Built on a lagoon 4km from the mainland, Venice spreads over 118 tiny islands. This phenomenal city is
criss-crossed by more than 160 canals and, as no cars are allowed into the city, visitors either walk from place to place or jump onto a vaporetto.
St. Mark’s Square or Piazza san Marco is the hub of all Venice activity. The city revolves around this magnificent piazza. St. Mark’s Basilica is an amazing Byzantine church covered with gold, marble and mosaic. It was originally the chapel for the Doges, and became the city cathedral in 1807. The four massive bronze horses over the doorway were brought over from Constantinople after it was raided in 1207.
Doge’s Palace is a pink and white fairytale palace was the home of the Venetian government and the rulers of the republic. The gondolas looked absolutely necessary but at around 150,000 Lire per hour (£60 – and remembering that the sixty quid did not include the cornettos) we were untempted. I remember reading an article once, in some girly magazine, that Venice vies with Florence for the title of the most expensive city in Italy.
We walked for hours, losing ourselves down the narrow Venice streets, and ate a sandwich in a small caf‚ washed down with a glass of purple freshly squeezed orange juice. Crossing the main bridge over the Grand Canal, we were approached by an Australian accent, donned with an Irish National Stud t-shirt who took our photo on the bridge. This Australian introduced himself and told us that himself and his good-lady-wife had just come from Ireland. We made small-talk with these connoisseurs of Irish travel as they told us enthusiastically that they had travelled the “Loop of Kerry”!
Rested at an underpopulated square, watching the pigeons being fed and an Alsatian dog playing gaily with some young children. Lay back in the sun, taking off my ‘Man from Del Monte’ hat which I had purchased, on Corky’s recommendations earlier that morning. I thought to myself
that Venice would be heaven if they’re weren’t just as many tourists in it.
We decided to try to catch the next train to Siena, so intertwined through the tight streets and made it safely back to the Ferrovia (train station). It seemed like the whole of Venice was onboard the train as we struggled for standing space, never mind seats. Stuck in-between a young Italian girl and an old Italian stallion who was moaning that my backpack was tipping off his ear (I’ll bloody tip your ear now Luciano, with a thump!). Eventually, the altercation settled down and I stood,
motionless, hanging onto the handrail.
But Luciano was having none of it. He started leaning against the handrail to try to thwart my fingers away from the bar. Childishness or what? But Luciano should have known never to out-bull an Irishman. My hand stood firm as he then tried to dig his shoulder underneath the rail to pressurise my hand away from the handrail. This confrontation continued for about a quarter of an hour. I could see that Luciano was giving up the ghost and I portrayed a winning smile from earlobe to earlobe.
Luciano got so uptight about my egotistical hand that he rose from his seat and insinuated that he was going for a cigarette. Donating his seat to the victor, I placed my triumphant bottom on the small seat and sat staring at a gorgeous face. The train stopped frequently to let more passengers clamber onto the teeming train.
I immediately caught eye-contact with a woman sitting in the carriage in front of me. It started off as it usually did – as we both made eye-contact we allowed ourselves a little smile until the next stop. I
introduced myself and asked did she speak any English. My newly acquainted friend obviously understood me because she motioned that her accompanying friend spoke almost fluently. Katerina appeared from behind the curtain and started talking (almost) fluently with me.
Kat told me that she was going to Naples to stay with her brother for a few days. I complimented Kat on her brilliant standard of English and said that her “English was, indeed, better than mine”! – a quip that always gets smiles from foreign women.
As the train had pulled into Florence, Shane appeared at the outside window to prise me from the grip of the Italian birds. I gestured to
him that I had found me a couple of Italian ‘bellas’ but he gesticulated wildly that this was our stop. I mouthed through the thick pane of glass that these women wanted to go all the way – and to Naples as well, but Corky was having none of it.
Reached Siena that evening and dined ‘al fresco’ scoffing some Tagliatelli (or something that sounds like Tagliatelli) and met one of Shane’s girlfriends from Cork who was also studying in Siena. Deirdre was showing her family around the city and invited us to sup with them later that night. I polished off my pizza and dessert and, after paying the bill, we walked to the Irish bar in Siena.
Shane introduced me to a couple more of his girlfriends, from France and
Wales. Stephanie was French and looked like Venice – voluptuous. Stephanie battled as best she could to understand my smooth French. Gazing deep into each other’s eyes, I felt a little guilty when we had to leave, to meet up with Deirdre’s family and friends.
A short walk brought us to a cramped bar, where Shane introduced me to his three English girlfriends. Having warned me beforehand that they were a bit ‘silly’ as they never stopped giggling. Anyway, to make a long story short, I supped a pint with Deirdre’s Dad who was propping up the bar. He was a GP in Cork and coached the U.C.C. hurling team (he also had the national franchise for the hurling face-guards) so was worth a packet or two.
Shane soon joined us, obviously pissed off with the giggling girls. I attempted to chat with Deirdre’s Mam but she pawned me off – she seemed to me like a woman who thinks that her shite doesn’t smell!
We sat chatting to the girls, after Deirdre’s family had departed, and had a good laugh at Anita, who made a show of herself altogether. Walked back to Shane’s apartment and slept until I woke at 7′ish the next morning.
Read all eight parts of Seven Capital Cities in Seven Days
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
