This is appropriate, because I also just finally finished the final chapter of the freelance job that I took on specifically to pay for this trip. Jeez louise.

I will start with the trip home and move from there to Venice, because it’s better to end on a happy note.

While we were sitting in the airport waiting for our flight, I spent a happy few minutes buying Weird European Candy (I am very interested in Snack Foods of the World [particularly Prawn Cocktail Crisps]) and “Espresso to Go” for Mr. Dingo Jones, which turns out to be teeny-tiny square containers with straws attached to the bottom so little I would go past itty-bitty and call them idgy-bidgy.

Anyhow, in the container is a mixture of espresso and chocolate, and three sips made me run around my living room in circles for 30 minutes. (I am a delicate creature.) (ha)

After we sat down to wait, we eventually became aware of the conversation of the people around us. First it was a litany of all the things they had purchased. Then about how much money they had spent (let’s just say more than 10 grand). Then about how smelly and unhelpful “they” are. Then about how backward “they” are to not have air conditioning everywhere.

THEN HOW AWFUL THE ITALIAN FOOD IN ITALY IS.

We got up and moved to another part of the gate area.

Maw and Paw of this group were seated behind us, and Paw unfortunately was a Seat Yanker, so every time he got up to move around, I rode a small carnival ride. ALSO he did not like my putting my seat back ever, and the way I knew that was that every time I did so, he would ding the flight attendant and have HER tell me to put my seat up.

Then Maw and Paw discovered how much they had in common with the folks across the aisle and yelled back and forth to each other for quite a long time about “them” and “their terrible food.” An excerpt: “And they think they know better than you do. I mean, even when I asked for extra meat in my meat sauce, they didn’t give me hardly any, so it was practically all vegetables! Haven’t they heard of customer service?”

Oh, and we had a 2-hr delay on the runway at Greensboro, NOT our airport, because of storms. I have been to Europe twice now, and both times I have gotten off the plane at home in a mood ready for killin’. Just to warn you.

Still: at least we didn’t see any Stereotypical Ugly Amurkins until the tail end of our trip.

And now: Venice!

The ship docked, and unloading was an admirably organized process. We were among the last to leave, because we were staying nearby (out near the airport). The drive out to the hotel was interesting: farmland pushes right up against the edges of the city. I approve of this intelligent notion. We stored our luggage and took the train back down into Venice. Hooray for public transportation!

Holster bags, check! (That’s our hotel behind us.)

Venice was HOT. And crowded. At first we milled around aimlessly. We bought a map and a limonata. Finally Mama decided that she could get us where we wanted to go (basically, everywhere).

We got kind of lost. But the best kind of lost.

Here are the obligatory Grand Canal shots:

and

It’s very beautiful. We found our way to St. Mark’s eventually, but the line was very long, and it was so hot and crowded that we went back into the alleyways where we had wandered before.

Instead of grand canals, wee ones:

We wandered on shady streets

and even saw some laundry.

(I love that photo.)

THEN we decided that we had to eat or risk the grumpies and vowed to stop at the next likely place. The next likely place was Trattoria da Nino. Lucky us! It was filled with Venetians, including one lady I want to be when I grow up. She wore a linen fedora. She had a lorgnette. “I want to be her,” I said. “Of course you do, she’s totally weird,” my sister said.

Have you noted a certain consistency in my photo sets?

Not from a barrel, but very good. And we ate pizza.

Mine was the mushroom one in the back. All I could do was sit over it and shake my head. I hadn’t realized what pizza was supposed to be. I mean, I love a pizza. I have a whole song about pizza and wine that I like to sing. This was … amazing. I just don’t even.

We bought jewelry and handbags, and didn’t buy other handbags that we regretted not buying later. All the Venetians macked on my sister. It was dark and crowded and damp-smelling, except where it was bright, hot, even more crowded, and damp-smelling. We stuffed gelato in ourselves.

It was glorious. I loved it. I want to go back, and back again. One (long) afternoon in Venice is not anywhere NEAR like enough.

Back at the train station, we were early, and I bought Weird Italian Candy (see above). I was trying to get rid of my change. I just found the box of balsam pastilles that I bought the other night, haven’t even tried them yet (will report back). We collapsed in the hotel bar for a bit of wine, then ate in the hotel restaurant, where again I was made speechless by my bowl of pasta.

In the morning, I was made squeaky by the yogurt. What IS it about the dairy over there? I couldn’t get enough of it. I drank actual glasses of milk. I had a cup of coffee out of the goofy automatic coffee dispenser, and it was GOOD. Instead of bitter sludge, it tasted like coffee smells. I keep saying that next time around I want to come back, along with everyone I love, and live in Andorra so we can be close together. Also near the good coffee and the excellent dairy. So plan ahead for your next life. We’ll all have to learn how to ski.

And in the airport, I finally found a good souvenir for Dingo.