PART III--Italy and France

We arrived in Venice at the early hour of 8:00 am, but were amazed at how beautiful and hot the weather already was. We had put pants over top our biker shorts, but would have taken them off if there weren't rules in Italy against wearing shorts[4]. Knowing that we would be going on to Florence later that evening, we found the place at the station to check our luggage[5]. Then off we went, exploring the most unique city I've ever been to in my life.

My first impression of Venice was: "What a totally cool, yet totally messed up city!" It reminded me of a time when I was about 8 years old where our house's street (Kathryn Avenue, Torrance) was really flooded, and our neighbors across the street had to take out their kayak and row down the street to go anywhere. I remember thinking that was really cool, and yet really strange and messed up. That was Venice. It was not like Amsterdam or Leningrad where the streets were built around the canals with bridges and it looked somewhat normal. The canals were the streets, and there were a lot more than just the occasional tour boat going down them--this was Main "Street," where there was everything from police boats to salt boats to public transit! This sight could only be Venice, the only city in the world built in the middle of a swamp!

Knowing full well that Venice could be the most expensive city on our trip if we weren't careful, we relied tremendously on Rick Steves' advice. As per his book, we took the #2 boat along the Grand Canal, a glorious tour on public transit lasting some 45 minutes for only about L5000 (>$3.50) a piece...to think we could have paid a tour boat $30+ each for the same thing! We lucked out and got a seat right at the front of the boat, where we could get the best view of the sinking façe;ades of the buildings, of the beautiful varnished mahogany taxi boats Doug wished he could take home for his dad, and of our boat careening into the dock at each stop. WHAM! I can't believe there wasn't a gaping hole in the side[6] after each stop, but somehow, they made it work. Only in Venice.

The last stop on our boat was for the Piazza San Marco[7], but once we got there our first tourist stop was not the square but the public restroom. But this was no ordinary lamp...er, uh, bathroom[8]. Unlike most of the pay toilets we'd seen where either a coin-operated door or a rude attendant awaited you, this had a huge counter where you purchased a ticket to upstairs to the second (women's) or third (men's) floor. I don't remember if a guard was upstairs to check my ticket, but I know that I couldn't get past the counter without one. And I think that there were two prices for the men--one for `full-use' toilets (number 1 and number 2), and a cheaper price for urinals (number 1 only). There was only one price for women, the higher rate of L500 (~35 cents). Paying different prices based on the type of excrement? Ah, definitely only in Venice.

Next we went out into St. Mark's Square and sat down to eat our leftover lunch[9]. We had gathered more than the average amount of pigeons in doing so, but the pigeon fest was yet to come. Suspecting that it would probably be the best L1500 ($1) we could spend in Venice, we bought a bag of birdseed from one of the vendors in the square. I gave Doug the camera, and told him he might get a good picture. So then I started to open the bird seed and....whoosh! Totally covered in pigeons!!!! They were all over me...flying onto my arms...sitting on my head...caught in my hair...blanketing my feet... I started laughing and just couldn't stop, there were so many pigeons! And they had absolutely no fear--they tickled me, pecked at the bag, and scratched the heck out of my skin[10], but I didn't care. It was absolutely hilarious. I had never experienced anything like that in my life, and my laughing-screams attracted the attention of everybody in the square, gathering a crowd. At one point and about four billion pictures later, I handed the bag off to Doug, and then I photographed even more. After the food ran out, Doug posed as a statue, very convincingly with all those darned pigeons on him. I think we had more fun with that dollar than the other tourists in Venice did with their Visa Gold cards[11].

Venice is famous for several things: the `stinky' canals[12], the horrendous crowds[13], and how incredibly expensive it is[14]. But what most people don't know about Venice is that it is comprised mostly of stolen loot. RS calls it "the Early Ransack Period", and I can see why. Since nothing historic or religious ever happened in the swamp, Venetian merchants stole St. Mark's bones and built around it a cathedral full of `rescued' artifacts--this put it on the map culturally as well as economically. The bell ringers on top of the clock tower[15], many of the amazing mosaics, and the horses perched at the top of the Basilica[16]...all were `hot' merchandise. Ah, only in Venice.

Art imitates life. Life imitates art!

Again, in the spirit of Venice, this was the most f%^&@ed up church in history. The floor was totally warped, and though there was carpeting to protect the mosaics on the ground, nothing could protect them from the wood pylons on which they were built sinking into the mud. It wasn't just the floor that was distorted...all the beams and walls were, in the immortal words of our two moms, "caddywhompus!" We elected not to pay the extra dough to see St. Mark's casket, but instead splurged to go upstairs and see the original brass horses which were cast during Charlamagne's reign back in the 4th century and plundered by Venetians hundreds of years later. If I was ever unsure that copies or pictures of works of art do not compare with the originals, I was convinced then! Those horses were magnificent! They were so alive and spirited that it seemed that they would burst out of their imprisoning bronze coats at any moment. As if seeing them was not already totally worth the $2, there were also sample mosaics and original manuscripts there for close inspection and contemplation. We couldn't believe that so few people were up there to revel in that artistry.

Nearby was also access to the church's `balcony', from which we could see the entire square, which was approximately two football fields long. From there we had a great view of the rebuilt bell tower which, earlier this century, had crashed into the middle of the square one night. The fourth wall enclosing the square was uneven with respect to the two adjoining walls; it had been purposely made crooked to match up, yet it still wasn't right. Who needed Pisa when we could see incompetent Italian architecture right here!?! Oh, but was it beautiful.

"Ahh, Venice!"

We can handle these confusing canal streets!

After stopping for a very tiny dish of tasty gelato, we were able to backtrack without getting lost[21] to the bank that had closed for siesta. We waited so long in line to change over some money[22], that we missed the 15:45 train on to Florence. We took it easy until the 17:45 train, eating some pretty gnarly $1 pizza at the only nearby store with food in it, but enjoying the view of the canal from the steps in front of the station. However, with each passing moment our fatigue tripled...our spotty sleep on the train the night before was finally catching up with us, and I was actually starting to feel sick. All we could think about was getting to our hotel room, and more importantly, to our hotel room bed. Finally it came time to board our train[23], so we grabbed the only open compartment (the one marked for smokers) and feigned sleep to discourage any other people from coming in and disturbing us[24]. Actually, it wasn't much of an act.

When we arrived in the Florence station a gruesome three hours later, we couldn't find any map or TI or even a working phone to figure out how to get to the hotel we'd reserved[25]. Flashbacks of Frankfurt--why is it that everything was always hardest to find when we were exhausted and desperately in need of getting our burdensome rucksacks off our backs? Finally Doug (my hero once again) asked enough questions and looked at enough bus maps to figure out the correct area, since Frommer's directions were totally misleading. As we walked through poorly-lit streets of drunken revelry and roaring motorbikes, I cursed the fact that we had left the hushed oasis of Venice for this, just to (supposedly) save a little money and a train pass day (that we never actually used anyway).

We finally found our hotel at about 10:00 pm, and dragged ourselves up to our room that I later nicknamed `the boombox'. We peeled off the two stinkiest pairs of biker shorts ever put through 36 straight hours of torture, and went into the shower we had paid extra to have...only to find that it was merely a nozzle next to the toilet and a drain on the floor. The shower got the toilet seat all wet and drenched the toilet paper, but at that point, nothing else mattered but SLEEP! I didn't bother brushing my teeth, no matter how much they sorely needed it, and I headed straight for the lumpy, petrified, and stunted-growth bed. No matter, because I think I fell asleep before gravity actually took effect.