Venice
We arrived in Venice by train, checked our bags at the station and began exploring the city. Every turn of the corner is another postcard beautiful picture. Venice was once an important trading center and one of the most powerful cities in the world. It was a city built brick-by-brick and has a feeling you just can't get in a Lewis Homes subdivision.
This picture is of the Rialto Bridge, one of the more famous bridges across the Grand Canal. The Grand Canal curves through Venice and serves as its major highway while the smaller canals, called Rio or river in Italian, feed into it. I took this picture right after our first negotiation with gondolier for a ride. Read about the gondola ride Amy and I took here.
Walking through Venice it's easy to see why it has so much romance associated with it. So many people had flowers in their windows I wonder if there's an equivalent of a Venetian homeowners association that issues fines if people don't add charm for tourists. Growing up in a state where a building built in the 1940s qualifies for the National Historical Register it's mind boggling to see all the beautiful architecture that goes into even the most routine of buildings.
While the buildings were beautiful, another part of Venice beauty was lacking: Its women. Before we went to Venice Amy mentioned she might be flirting with the good-looking Venice men. I remembered that my friend Linda told me years ago when she visited Italy that Italian men would pinch women on the butt, especially women they'd never met. So I figured when in Rome, so to speak, do as the Romans do. I envisioned a city full of Isabella Rossellinis running around in tight leather skirts and high heels. Amy warned me that since I wasn't a cute Italian guy I ran the risk of getting slapped if I pinched a woman on the butt, but I still plotted my strategy. Would I have my back turned and casually reach back and pinch the bottom of a woman behind me? Or would I just boldly grab the bottom of a woman in front of me, grinning and shrugging after she turned to look at me?
I got to Venice and to my surprise found a city of mostly plain-looking women. In the walkways, working in clothing stores, every where there were almost no head turning women. I saw one babe in a tight skirt and high heels, but she was walking along a ramp put up in St. Mark's Square to cope with the flooding and I had much too much sympathy for her struggles to even begin to annoy her. Altogether in the two days I was in Venice I saw a handful of confirmed hot Italian babes. I saw beautiful women every where I went in Munich, on the other hand. So Bavaria seems to produce more beautiful women than northeastern Italy.
Amy and I also had mixed luck on Venetian food. Our first dinner we made the mistake of looking for the cheapest restaurant out of three close to each other behind St. Mark's Square. My fettuccine with Bolognese sauce had the distinctive trait of having bits of bone and gristle. Amy wasn't too happy with her dinner, either.
The next day for lunch, though, it was a different story. That's when we ended up that this cafe. Amy and I both ordered pasta for our first dish. I ordered saltimbocca for my entree and we split a pizza. I ordered nothing fancy for my pasta, spaghetti with Bolognese sauce. The waiter brought our pasta and Amy looked concerned. Her pasta was black and her sauce was black. I tasted my spaghetti and it was exquisite. There's something about the mixture of tomato and beef flavors that I like. On pizza. In Chinese cooking. And on spaghetti. I had a couple of forkfuls of pasta and agreed to swap Amy for the black stuff she didn't want to touch. Hers had a seafood taste to it. Being a seafaring city, I mentioned to Amy that her pasta probably was black to have a squid theme to it. Well, I was partially right. After I got home I checked the Internet. That pasta actually was made with squid ink and the sauce may have had it as well. I'm not sorry I ate it. My only disappointment was that Amy was so ho hum about the excellent Bolognese sauce. The saltimbocca was excellent too and it was our best meal in Venice.
Packing my suitcase in Munich for the trip to Venice, I asked Amy if I should pack a third shirt in case I get pasta sauce on my shirt. Amy smiled and, with a lifetime of experiences with her Uncle Steve, said yes. See why I needed that third shirt.
Being a touristy area, Venice has hundreds of little shops. Those closest to the water or the first that people arrive at when walking from another area are the most expensive. Amy convinced me in Munich of the benefits of wearing a scarf. I bought one with artificial material in several shades of brown for $14 at a German department store. In Venice, we found a nice, all-wool tan scarf for $5. Venice had a lot of other nice things, but limited suitcase space prevented me from bringing them back.
At night we found ourselves riding on the Venice water taxis. These are loud boats that rocked heavily in the water. Because of the dark we had no idea where we were going. It was generally a disorienting and unpleasant experience.
You know, Americans put the first man on the moon, are a leader in computer technology and heavily dominate the world's culture. This is a picture of the one thing in Europe that stumps Americans.
I snapped lots of pictures in Venice. Please enjoy them.
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