Is Santa Italian?

Venice has been one of the highlights of my trip so far. The winter weather was clear and lovely and since my trip there in the summer of 1994, I'd forgotten what difference no cars, trucks or motorbikes makes to a city.

Venice was lively, but peaceful.

I had excellent accomodations in Venice. A hostel more like a pensionne (guesthouse), my large room was quadruple-share with bathroom. It was a graceful, well maintained Venetian building ON the Grand Canal. It was aggressively cleaned by a team of Italian ladies each day. The only run-in I had was with one over the issue of an extra blanket I'd cleverly procured as the room was not as warm as it could have been. I thought I was going to hauled off to gaol for theft until the language barrier was cleared up.

Lession number one in Venice- never go drinking with Polish refrigerator salespeople after midnight. What, I hear you say? Of course, that's obvious, you say to me. Everyone knows that...

On my first night I decided to go out, have a meal and I found a small club afterwards and watched some live jazz. The set finished and I didn't like the look of the Italian blokes in the corner so set off back to my accomodation. One of them followed me. Having lacked the guts to talk to me in the bar, he thought a darkened bridge might improve his romantic chances. He caught up with me and asked me to have a drink with him in English....??? I pretended I didn't understand and took off like a shot.

Fortunately at the next turn there was a group of Polish refrigerator salespeople. Unlikely rescue but they were a mixed and large group. The ladies were all carrying roses they had been given during their corporate dinner and they were all well on their way to a cheerful hangover. I offered to take a photo for them and then they adopted me. "Australia?? We love Australian !!"

Great folks. I woke up the next day rather late to the sight of a Welshman optimistically boiling the kettle in the room. I say optimistically because I'd checked the night before... it was obvious there was no tea or coffee in the room. But bless him, he'd put on the kettle and waited for it to boil anyway. Was he hoping the tea fairy would materialise?

We had a chat. Alistair seemed excessively tall. I was still lying down though, having been hit by the vodka truck the night before.

We ended up becoming new chums though, and being likeminded in loving the city ended up being a highlight of the trip.

I spent the day alone, wandering the street and taking an autobus to (San Marco) St Mark's Square. It was a wonderful ride, and I was able to take this excellent photo of the Doges Palace from the water. Venice is full of coloured hand-blown glass shops and masks for the Carnivale. It was wonderful.

I met up with Al for dinner at a local pizzeria, where the pizzas were thin, excellent and served with pride. Venice, unlike New York is not built for individual diners, except for breakfast, which you eat standing up at an expresso bar.

There is no hassle in sitting in an American resturant with a newspaper or book anytime of day. But in Europe, dining is a social experience. Today in Prague I tried to make a reservation for one at a traditional Czech restaurant for tomorrow night. The staff were openly scathing of the concept of dining alone but took my booking. At the moment, I'm not looking forward to it.

The next day in Venice I took myself off alone again to explore the city. I spent a lot of time looking at the artistry in the glass shops and the masks. I also went to the art markets and spoke with the artists.

Venice is made to get lost in. It's a maze.

Although the staff at the hostel gave me a map, many of the streets aren't marked. And the ones that are marked on the map aren't marked on the buildings. To make it more fun, you will come across a square with 5 or 6 paths all purporting to lead to the same place. There is a very real risk it can get hours to days to get to your location.

Venice is wonderful... to be continued