Venice remix, MORE!

Venice made a strong impression on me, so I am adding a 2nd page about Venice.

Today we head to Tuscany. But before we go, students - your brief lesson on Venice, so sharpen your pencils! Today we will discuss:

1. A brief but essential concept about travel
2. The sensuality of Venice
3. Our personal renaissance
4. A little something for the “laaaadies”

As you may recall, a few days ago I said jokingly, “what happens in Italy stays in Italy.” I couldn’t have been more wrong. At least I hope I am wrong.

When we boarded the bus for the first time back in France, Stephen opened our minds about travel. He said we come together (or perhaps alone) to a foreign place from the microcosm of our own lives and are given the opportunity to be transformed. Venice is a transformational place.


This is a bit of a review, but with more detail.  Our hotel was simply lovely and located near St Mark’s square. Aa I mentioned before, at midnight I would hear the bells of San Marco right outside my window and I would awaken to those bells as well. The city has no cars. Picture a winding maze of cobblestone alleyways, richly colored and textured stone, luscious shops and glittering window displays, ironwork, oiled wood, waterways, stone bridges, window boxes gushing with flowers…. at every corner there was another turn that led you to unbelievably more intense colors, aromas, and the intense energy of the Venetians and the tourists. Pigeons are much at home in Venice, and they are as busy with their lives and work, as all the Italians. (Lest I forget, around every turn there were also Italian MEN, but ladies, we‘ll save that for dessert!)

The pasta, the pastries, the cappuccino, the fresh fish, the Italian leather, the language, the sheer beauty of the architecture, the music, the romance, the cathedrals, the Catholicism, the gondolas, the little old ladies in their black dress, the colorful glass, are you getting it? ……. Well it soaks into your skin quickly, like the hurricane only better. This is Venice. Does that make you want to log on Travelocity and book your vacation? It should. Don’t miss it.

I am already thinking about the end, for we have just 4 more days together. I am emotional now and then. Have any of us changed, or will we quickly be reabsorbed back into our microcosm? Can we prevent that? How?

Stephen and I talked this morning about the weaving of layer upon layer of experience that our group has shared on this adventure. The group has drawn so close.  How to say goodbye? I’m not ready.  It is routine for Stephen, part of the job.  It is not routine for me, it is infused with feelings, but that's just me.

There has been a weaving of friendship, emotion, culture, appreciation, curiosity, laughter, memories, reverence, richness. Can we wear that like a garment and take it home forever? Probably not, sadly. Photography isn’t enough. We must open ourselves to a personal renaissance. That is the opportunity to embrace when you travel, you see. It’s not just booking a tour and showing up with our luggage, maps, foreign currency, and cameras. There is a precious gift in travel, if only we are willing and motivated to receive it. I just don’t know how to preserve it. Maybe I can’t. I hope I can. It is my prayer.

We take a walking tour on the 1st morning and we get a ridiculous and useless map.  It's missing the street names, and is confusing.  Welcome to my world.  Stephen shows us that there are 3 points of orientation and shows us that the buildings will feature an arrow pointing to the nearest point.  You can't get lost.  This seems brilliant to me.  I wish the whole world was laid out with this kind of logic and simplicity.  I might be a normie here in Venice, able to find my way around like other normies. 

That day we meet a feisty female local guide, who immediately  takes charge of the group.  I am cracking up at her.   She's so pretty and I fall in love with her accent.  We go to a mask making demonstration and it's amazing.  We are captivated.  It's Kevin's birthday, so he gets special treatment and we all love it.  Afterwards we tour Basilica Di San Marco and I can't believe I am there.  It is incredible.  Awe inspiring. Then we are turned loose to "follow our maps" if you will.  Thank God I have Cindy with me, since I'm not yet trusting of the "arrow signs" but we'll see.

Cindy makes me proud, and eventually gets lost too.  I feel normal at last!  Our feet are killing us, and we discover a magnificent sequestered cathedral.  It is beautiful.  I make a small donation, and light a couple of altar candles and pray. One was for the healing of Paisley, my beloved granddaughter with cardiomyopathy. And the other was for God to open my heart to a personal renaissance. Let me wear this woven garment forever Lord, help me please. Help each one of us in our group. Let it be woven in.  In this part of the world where God is revered, I feel at home. 

Ok, some of you have probably tuned out by now with all the seriousness here, except maybe the ladies who are waiting for the final lesson on Italian men. So last night there was this gondola ride on the moonlit canals. There was wine, and toasting, and singing, and starlight and moonbeams and you get the idea. I’m sitting directly across from Stephen, who I could only describe to you by using the word “Supernova” (you may have to Google it to catch the comparison) , and to my left was our Ricky Martin look-alike (pre-coming out, I’m talking La Vida Loca) gondolier.

He and Stephen were talking and laughing in Italian, while the gondolier is expertly steering this gorgeous and expensive boat under bridges and beside other gorgeous and expensive boats.  My jaw keeps dropping.  I am giddy. Now you ladies may not have liked Ricky Martin 10 or 15 years ago, but you would have drank in the feast of our gondolier last night, no matter your age, provided you’re not dead. Before I forget, AFTER the gondola ride, he changes out of his black and white striped t-shirt and back into his real clothes, so he literally pulls his shirt off over his head and is standing on the gondola sans shirt, well, okay, no words ladies. No words. And my camera was tucked away GAAAH!!! Probably best, as we couldn’t have Stephen trying to bail me out of jail for disorderly conduct, it’s simply not in the tour budget and we cannot hold up the group.

The Italian men here are stunning. I don’t care if you like Nordic guys or rednecks or whatever, you have got to come to Italy and simply look around and listen to men speak in Italian. Mama Mia, girls. It was all I could do to take in the actual scenery that wasn’t on the gondola, I’m serious!!!!!!! OMG. Between Stephen, Jude and Ricky Martin ON the gondola, who needed to look elsewhere?  You won't find this featured in a tour manual, believe me.  I had a front row seat too. Italian women move quickly, talk with great animation, look gorgeous and wear great clothes and shoes. We could all take a lesson here girls. Capice? (You pronounce it: kah-PEACH-ay.) Understand? You may now put down your pencils. Oh, I forgot to say, some Italian women have a mustache, and I didn’t see any waxing places, so the culture must embrace that here LOL. Gotta love the Italians, they love it ALL. It’s a proud day to be an Italian folks, very proud indeed.

And so we leave Venice. I am on the bus and wondering what lies ahead in the next 4 days. I know what’s on the itinerary, but that’s not what I mean at all. It’s not about itinerary when you travel. I wish my readers were all here to soak it in. I see Stephen on his iTunes library choosing music to enrich our bus ride. Another layer, you see? Ah, he has chosen Pavarotti, and reads us the lyrics in English. “….torture and delight of the heart….” I just came undone.

Meet here again soon, Ciao, ciao!! My love to all… class dismissed