It seems to me that the universe did not want us, or in particular me, to go to Venice. From Cancer to Pandemic. From attacking Seagulls to last minute cancellations. From banning cruise ships to the latest, strikes by Italian Air Traffic Control. Every attempt we made to go was thwarted by something. It was fairly clear cut that I should do everything to avoid the place. Having now got here I’m bracing myself for the consequences. If they suddenly announce a comet is heading straight for the earth I take full responsibility but on the plus side I’ll be happy I’m taking you all with me.
Being responsible people we arrived at the airport, as directed, 2.5 hours early (to be fair it was 3 hours but there was sod all traffic) and literally waltzed through security. This was definitely helped by only having cabin bags. Not having done this before I didn’t appreciate what a ball ache it is to check in hold luggage. I also got the impression that because of all the news about cancellations and queues people were at least trying to do things properly instead of thinking that the rules don’t apply to them.
While I didn’t get stopped at security I did when showing my passport and boarding pass at the gate. It wouldn’t be a holiday if I wasn’t stopped and searched at some point but this was a new one for me and I was pulled to one side by ‘FIVE O’ who wanted to check my passport.
‘This looks well used’ he said insinuating something, probably that it’s well used.
‘I ain’t saying nuff’in copper’ I retorted ‘Not until I’ve seen my brief’s… Seriously I haven’t seen my pants for weeks and I think someone has stolen them so it’s fortunate that you stopped me’.
Obviously I didn’t say this because I’m not an idiot and him being part of the ‘establishment’ he’s probably in on the conspiracy to steal my underwear.
On a more serious note, although missing pants are not to be sniffed at (I crack myself up). I don’t know why I was stopped because he didn’t really check my passport and we just ended up talking about pensions and how ‘fucked’ the job is.
The plane took off on time! This was as much a surprise to ‘Dave’ the cabin manager as it was to the rest of us. As punishment for me forgetting my noise cancelling headphones the ‘travel gods’ put babies 3 rows in front and 2 rows behind. There was some confusion about the wearing of masks. I’m almost certain that the rules I looked at a few days ago still said people arriving in Italy by ferry, train or plane needed to wear masks. But ‘Dave’ said that was only for internal Italian flights. Consequently few people bothered and you could almost taste the COVID in the air. For those that don’t know, it tastes like indigo.
So first impressions. In the same way that Disney Land is ‘the happiest place on earth’ when you’re 7, Venice is the happiest place on earth when you’re 47 or any age over 30. It’s the Disney for grown ups. It shouldn’t exist and is all the more amazing for the fact that it does. It’s the Unicorn of Cities, utterly useless but still cool to look at. I could go on and will… It’s like a bunch of flowers from a child, beautiful and heart-warming but dead from the moment they picked them.
As soon as we booked into the hotel we dumped our bags and headed for the Pandora shop. Venice is a city of tat. Almost every shop we passed is there purely to service tourists. Lyn was in heaven. We picked up a charm and a painting (by local ‘artists’) and then made our way to Saint Marks Square to have a drink and get robbed. I suppose it’s not theft when you’re a willing participant.
We then went back to the hotel to get changed and find somewhere for dinner. We had a stroll and stopped at a random restaurant which looked okay. 2 cokes, some table water and 2 basic pasta dishes, which by the way tasted exactly like pasta, came in at €50. It’s a good job I didn’t have any pudding.
After a bit more randomly walking around we got Lyn the last thing on her check list which was a mask. By this point we’d done 20’000 steps since arriving that afternoon and speaking for myself everything below my nipples was hurting. If they’d said the Pope was waterskiing down the Grand Canal my response would have been ‘meh’. So it was back to the hotel for an early night. Very busy day tomorrow.
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