Ahh, Venice

Ahh, Venice. Like a cool, refreshing breeze on warm sunny day. Enveloping you, refreshing your spirit, and awakening your mind. How do I describe the beauty and romanticism of this place? I guess I should begin with our journey there.

Driving through the Austrian Alps towards Italy was stunning. Again, we were privy to witness a place where the heavens come down to touch the earth. Clouds huddled toward the upper reaches of snowcapped rock, misting the earth. Once parted, they revealed a world below of intense colors; sharp blue skies and searing green valleys, an image that my eyes won’t soon forget. It felt as if the colors in this part of the world were painted in a vivid hue that awakened the mind.

As we drove, Danny and I both felt a certain domicile pride. We were traversing the land of our forefathers and mothers. We passed by signs for Udine, the town where my great-grand parents had lived, and crossed the border into Italy where signs suddenly shifted into Italian and Danny beamed.

As we approached closer to Venice the air became salty and gained the humidity of a sea town. Danny and I practiced out of our Italian phrase book with growing enthusiasm. When we finally arrived onto the island and stepped out of the train station, the stunning beauty of picturesque Venice, took me off guard. It was every bit as beautiful as photographs I had seen and then some. Pictures could never capture the sounds, smells, and motion of the town.

Everywhere we looked there were boats of all sizes zooming by with their engines humming merrily. Tourists moved through the streets with vendors selling their wares and calling out in Italian the day’s specials. Sea birds cried from the air above and swooped in to grab scraps of unwatched food. And everywhere we went were the soothing sounds of water lapping onto ancient city walls in the wake of all the gondolas, water taxis, and motor boats.

And the smells! As we slowly made our way through the tangled streets to our hotel, each corner effused a new delicious smell. Fresh baked cheese pizza, a sea food market, pasta with white sauce, garlic bread, and a sweets store. My mouth was watering as Danny declared, “I’m going to eat my way through this city!”

When we found our hotel, we were pleasantly surprised. Our expectations were outdone as we were led up to our room and the doorman threw back the blinds. From the fourth floor, our corner room had four windows looking out over San Marco’s square, the Basilica, and canals being traversed with gondolas.

Without a doubt, Venice is the most romantic place I have ever been. The air was thick with the languid warmth of love. Couples walked hand in hand, musicians played passionate melodies on every street corner, and lovers unexpectedly paired off to dance. It was if every couple had slipped into their own private space, glowing with the drunkenness of the honeymoon, tightly wrapped in a love cocoon.

Danny and I were immediately enveloped in the mood of the city, purposefully getting lost in the winding streets and alleys, only to find our way out again. We ate some of the best food of our lives. Pasta, seafood (I tried octopus, snails, and mussels!), pizza, and gelato. Oh! The gelato! Every corner had a stand, and I tried five different flavors – I was truly in heaven. Danny ate the best and worst pizza of his life all in the same day. We went on a gondola ride with friends, shopped, ate romantic meals, toured the palace, took in the sights, and attended Mass at the Basilica on Sunday.

Danny and I laughed hysterically as we watched the Italians “communicate” with each other. For example, two little boys were playing with toy cars, and launched them flying into the air off a banister while their mother and grandmother weren’t looking. Immediately both women launched into a rapid diatribe in Italian, scolding the boys for their poor manners and grandma reached to smack one on the head. Danny burst out laughing, fondly remembering similar stories about his grandmother. Another example, Danny and I were walking through a side street in a residential area and a man started screaming in Italian, in a tone that made Danny pick up the pace and look back concerned. Danny later explained that he might not understand the words, but that tone was unmistakable, it was the “I’m-so-mad-I’m-about-to-throw-something” tone. Hand movements and animated faces were present in every Italian conversation. Strangers’ faces in the street had uncanny resemblance to various branches of Danny’s family tree. And Danny felt completely at home, jokingly pointing out the various ways that his fatherland was superior to my own. (I will give him the concession that Italian food is far better than Austrian food.)

Three days in Venice was not enough time to truly appreciate and take in the city. Danny and I quickly decided that, of all the places we have been, Venice was the one we want to revisit in the future.

So, as I wrote at the beginning, to summarize my thoughts, I can do it in only one way…

Ahh, Venice (sigh).