August 3, 2007
Off to Venice this morning with a new group. It’s a pretty full bus, so we’re in the back row, which is pretty tight, to where I can’t even use my computer if I sit facing forward. So I’m sandwiched in sideways, with the armrest jabbing me in the back.
It’s raining off and on, and the roads are pretty slick. Our bus hydroplaned a bit on one stretch of windy road (which our lovely driver confirmed for us later, at dinner – Bodie and I assured him that we were the only two people who even noticed). The drive through the Austrian Alps is gorgeous, but thank goodness for Dramamine.
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I ate one final bratwurst mit pommes during our lunch stop, and then we crossed the border into Italia. I justified it by figuring I’d need the energy, since we would be heading out on an evening excursion as soon as we arrived at our hotel.
We’re staying at the Novotel Venezia Mestre Castellana, which is located right off the freeway about twenty minutes outside of Venice. Dear God. The room is nice enough (except for the beds which are like thin futon mattresses on a hard board), but there is no wireless and the two computers in the lobby available for guest use cost 30 cents per minute, the city center of Mestre is a good thirty minute walk away, and getting into Venice is, obviously, a trek. Definitely designed for groups on a bus, also made obvious by the five or six tour busses in the lot. The kicker is that they charge 270 euros a night for a double room. Can you imagine? What a crock. (The hotel does offer a shuttle bus to Venice during the day, but it holds about eight people and you have to make a reservation far in advance to snag an open slot.)
The city of Venice charges a tourist tax of 280 euro per day for tour busses to enter Venice, which does not include parking fees. To be honest, I didn’t even know you could drive onto the island(s). But sure enough you can drive over a looooong bridge (built by Mussolini) next to the train lines, and park near the train station.
The first evening’s outing included a ride on a gondola, drinks in St. Mark’s Square, and a private boat ride down the Grand Canal. Our jovial tour director John organized a separate gondola for Bodie and I so we could film the group easier, Score! I’ve never been on a gondola before—Tina and I just couldn’t justify spending $80 on one when we were here in 2002—and now I’m totally spoiled. Everyone else was crammed in six to a boat. There was even musical accompaniment in the form of an accordion player and singer, who woo’d us with renditions of “O Solo Mio” and such. Our gondolier had taken over the family trade from his father, and his boat was an old beauty. He was saving up for a new one, which costs in the neighborhood of 30,000 €.
Venice really is a stunning city, and apparently our timing is perfecto. It rained only an hour before we arrived, but was clear and sunny and cool for our tour. And I have to say, seeing it by private boat is not a bad way to go. A bellini in the square helps too.
There are pink alligators everywhere on the Grand Canal for the Biennale.
Dinner back at the hotel. We get to sit with John and the driver, which is really the way to go: a bottle of wine and a choice of entrée and desert, as opposed to the fixed menu the group has to choose from. John is from Leeds in England, and, not being a contemporary art fan (the Venice Biennale came up), told us amusing tales about going to school with the artist Damien Hirsch (the one who’s currently trying to sell a diamond-studded skull). We also witnessed a brilliant discussion between John and the driver about al dente pasta, which John claimed was breaking his teeth, but the driver insisted was the only way to eat. To quote: always cook the pasta for one minute less than the package says. And always use rock salt in your water, and don’t add olive oil when cooking it. Save that for the plate. (He also gave us some tips for making homemade limoncello, since he’s from Sorrento: use only half-ripe lemons, with a lot of green still on the rind. Then you just basically add a lot of water, alcohol, and sugar. Salute! Tho’ I’m not sure how to recreate this in the States, as you’re supposed to use pure 96% alcohol. Where does one find 96% alcohol?)***
Which brings me to a small nod to our Tour Directors. So far, we’ve been really lucky and have met some great ones. It’s like a small roving subculture of comic babysitters, and they’ve given us a wondrous invitation to view the inner sanctum. Like any group of employees, they love to bitch about their job and swap stories, but they all seem to love what they do and the freedom it gives them. They have all taken full care of us, and picked up any and all slack left by the company in our trip (and there has been plenty).
