We began our morning per normal Venetian procedure, all blind and unaware, searching for light switches and clocks. Bathrooming has become interesting after the light bulb burned out yesterday, especially in the coffin-sized shower, where bending to retrieve lost soap can only be done by opening the shower door. We persevered through the darkness and got out the door of our flat by 11 AM, pretty decent timing if considering the load of laundry that was done pre-exit.
The vaporetto (did I mention it's my total favorite? -- yes, yes I did) took us to the San Marco stop, the most touristy of tourist places in Venice. We'd put off seeing the wonders due to crowd aversion but decided that today would be our day. With my cold shoved aside by sheer willpower, and Alex's leg behaving moderately, we were ready to conquer big league Venice. We also had another secret weapon for the day - the exquisite humor of the sleep deprived, pained, mosquito bitten, ill, and fatigued travelers half way through their journey. And so, with nothing to lose, we ventured forth.
Our first stop was for food. Of course. We found a lovely little spot off of the tourist circuit and sat for pretty decent Italian fare. While there, and after the picture taking of the day began, Alex thought that we should capture our appreciation for the smells of Venice. Being specific, we sniffed the railing next to our table, finding the aroma a bit oaky (we learned that term on our wine tour day). Did I mention that Alex ordered a beer at lunch? First time lunch drinker.
Sniffing completed (well the documentation of sniffing completed -- we sniffed all day, especially me with the cold), we began our day of museum touring, trying to find this little gem called the Querini Stampalia (which houses no stamps at all, much to my disappointment). Just as our maze of a trek to locate it was successful, my feet felt the need to trip over each other and I began tumbling down the steps of a canal bridge. Fear not, though, capable Italian hands were there to stop my fall from being a trip stopper and after wounding mostly my pride, I was back on my feet again, albeit with scraped knees. And I wasn't even the one who had lunch beer. Stampalia was lovely, despite the lack of postage.
Next we headed to Doge's Palace and the prison that sits below. It was an excellent tour, not too crowded and full of interesting things to see. I find it so odd that the Doge (what a name - I'm the Doge of Venice) would keep his prisoners directly underneath him. From the top floor down, the order is palace, more palace, more palace, prison, more prison and the wine cellar?? It all seems so strange. We then took a quick tour of the Museum Correr, where a guy named, you guessed it Correr, lived. He bequeathed his palace and its contents to the city of Venice, and I, for one, am glad he did, because dang, that place is filled with unbelievable art, sculpture and furniture. It's attached to Venice's archaeology museum, which is also stunning. Due to the leg and the lungs, we spent quite a bit of time sitting in whatever spots we found available in the museum. One such place held dazzling diamonds and other precious gems. I'm not a gem kind of person. It's weird to be surrounded by jewels so coveted by others and feel...nothing. Bored even. I don't really get what all the fuss is about.
After sitting with bling, Alex and I hunted for a quick dinner before our an appointment with a gondola. We were maybe a block off of Saint Mark's Square eating some really good pasta when a swarm of teenage girls began circling the building next to us. At first I thought they were a school group waiting for a tour or something, but it became clear quickly that these kids were far too excited for that scenario. Also, all of them had their phones out trained on the door of the building. So, using our deductive reasoning skills, we decided someone famous must be behind the door. Sure enough, screaming (of the happy kind) began as some guy with a nice suit and face on exited the door. Girls and selfie sticks and mayhem ensued. It only seemed appropriate to join the teens in the merriment. Without two words to each other, Alex and I left our dinners behind and got behind the celebrity excitement. After several teen selfies, the dapper guy saw Alex approach. He had this quizzical look on his face as he said, hesitantly to Alex, "hey there, dude." We made it clear with our ready-for-action camera that we, too, wanted a picture with him. He obliged, looking a bit confused. Mission accomplished, we finished dinner. As we ate, several more screams erupeted as different people left the building. By then we'd lost interest. But after the show was over, I showed one of the girls our picture and asked her who we'd taken a photograph with. It turned out that Dolce and Gabanna had some kind of event at the hotel and all of the American male models were there. The one we had our picture taken with is named Brandon Thomas Lee, who, after some Googling, I found out is the son of Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee of Motley Crue fame. It's a strange picture. My very favorite part is Alex's expression in the shot, looking all celebrity shocked.
We ended the evening with a very romantic gondola ride, er, not romantic for us, but everyone else seemed to be feeling it. It was a group ride, with six gondolas traveling together being serenaded by an accordion player and singer. We happened to be on the boat as the musicians, which was, at first, awkward. A couple mairried for two years, Alex, me, an accordion player and a singer all set sail at sunset, ready for what the night would bring. And actually it brought beautiful views of Venice from its little canals, lovely singing and accordianing, and the just right closure to a day of mom and son hijinks.
Love the celebrity photo
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