Ah, Venice...

Ah - Venice! City of Poor Life Decisions...
...my face hurts.

- Probably because someone punched me there...

Ah. Venice.


Friday I spent a lot of time on the bus. Around noon we took an incredibly boring tour of an incredibly old theater in Vicenza, whose one distinguishing feature was a fairly spectacularly textbookular example of scenic perspective on a proscenium stage and the fact that the fist people to see a play their in 200 years after it's opening were apparently a group of Japanese missionaries who had come to see the Pope. Vicenza was their second stop. I kid you not.
... I had a great sandwich. Trocchiolo. That seems to me turkey sandwich. And some gelato that was terrible, but which fact I didn't realize until I I was mostly finished eating it, and so thoroughly enjoyed.
Then we met the Mask-Maker, Renzo in his atelier outside the city. This highly anticipated stop turned out to be rather a two hour bust. However, he gave the entire thing in Italian (which Kevin translated some of), but I understood at least 90% of what he said. Pretty good considering a month ago I didn't speak Italian at all. His work was beautiful, but in the end, I decided that it would be inappropriate for me to ask him to make me a mask at this point. I mean, it would be like ordering custom ice-skates before you'd ever stepped onto the ice. There is a point at which it isn't even a question of decadence, it's simply inappropriate.

Venice itself, now that they've outlawed cars and turned it completely into one giant tourist trap, did seem cleaner then my last recollection of it. We arrived in the fog, through which we immediately set metaphorical sail in Vaporetti (the water buses) and then lost ourselves in on the way to the hostel. Dory insists that maps are not helpful in Venice, with which I disagree, since I pulled mine out and corrected our course. Our dorm room at the hostel looked a bit like a refugee shelter, but the place was clean and safe and had great free breakfasts (it's called the CSD Foresteria Valdese, book in advance or they won't have rooms), and there was, directly across the street, a store where an old man filled up used 2 liter water bottles with various kinds of wine for 2-3 euros a piece. I drank about 2/3 of a bottle of his prosecco Saturday night. It was, in fact, during the first bottle, standing on a bridge outside the hostel with Danny and Ben, singing to passing tourists in gondolas, that we decided that we should each make at least one PLD that night...

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Because Friday night, I put on a hoochy skirt and heels and a couple of us went to the jazz club Danny had found near the Rialto bridge. There were 3 guys and 3 girls, so we sat by gender and pretended we were on a bad prom date. I had a strawberry margarita (on the rocks. always on the rocks if you have the option) and a caipirhina, while Danny, Ben, and Jesse ordered Hoegaarden beers that came in tumbler glasses bigger than their heads. I also had a plate of the Spaghetti neri alla Venizia, or whatever it is that they call the pasta in squid ink that turns your teeth black. It was pretty good. Tastes like squid. And afterwards we stood on the Rialto for a bit and debated with Danny about whether or not it was a good idea for him to jump into a canal.

Saturday,
We woke up and worked our asses off on Giudecca Island in the space they rented for us to work in. The wind was icy and there was a cold rain that whipped the canals up. (what does the water look like, you ask? Well, you've seen lake Erie, right? Yeah, about like that. Particularly on a miserably stormy day) So by the time we got back to the hostel around 6, some prosecco and a hot shower made for a fantastic start to the evening. Then we went out to dinner and tried to get a table for 20 at 'that restaurant that has guacamole', which, of course, we couldn't. But Danny and I hung around after people split out and put our names in for a table for 2. I ordered a bellini while I waited ((which wasn't all that great, but helped to pass the 20 minutes until we got a table)). The guacamole was so so, but the pizza I had, which I chose by asking the waiter che e la tua favorita pizza, had zucchini and parmeggiano and some fantastic salami, and I ate the whole thing, and just generally had a really fantastic time hanging out with Danny.
At 9, we met up with the others and Brian in San Marco's and went looking for the discotecca, which wasn't open yet, so we got bad gelato and I made my first PLD when I decided to stick my hand n the canal because i set it in something gross. It's okay, I washed my hands when we got to the club, and, retrospectively, it was not my P-estLD. The club had a 10 euro cover charge, but that included your first drink, so Sam and I asked the bartender to make us something forte e un po dolce, so she whipped up something with Drambuie, ginger ale, and lemon juice that she gave some silly name to i can no longer remember. Wasn't bad though. reminded me a bit of a margarita.
It was not at this point that I got punched in the face.
No, no. This was the time, for DANCE.
I danced for about 30 seconds with a skeezy Italian boy in a white hoodie, before I let my friends rescue me. I also danced with a lovely Dutch guy named Jens who is possbly the tallest person I've ever met. He had to dance stooped over. swear.
Aaaaand, then I dance with some more people like dory and ben and julie and danny and brian briefly before he turned n for the night but who really remembers it's all a blur.
And then I asked Abigail to punch me in the face.
- Because she and Joya had this thing, and I jumped in on it, and then Danny did too so I punched him, but it wasn't hard enough... and yada yada yada, And so we all walked home at 4 in the morning with Danny still trying to convince me to hit him again.
Sunday was fun.
Okay, that's a lie.
But it was our last class with Brian, and then we had free time, and we decided that we were going to walk around, but Venice is one large crush of tourists on Sunday afternoon, so I ended up buying a sandwich from the Moka Efti Crazy Cafe, where I couldn't help but flirt with the man behind the bar. NO, I mean really. I didn't even really want to be flirting, I just was, and he asked me what Ohio was known for, and I said Corn, and that was that. I went home and went to bed.

Monday we had time to wander before we had to take the 1:20 train to Arezzo, and I decided to just go off by myself, which was the best decision I've made in a long time. I bought myself a mask - an inexpensive one - and I bought L. B. a mask - which fits him perfectly! - and I spoke to the shop keep in Italian and even translated for the Spanish couple that came in. (and by translated, I mean, I realized that they were asking about gold masks, and so I pointed at something gold) And then I bought a Carnevale poster and some more postcards, and I spoke to that woman in Italian too.
On the train ride home, which took forever because it was half an hour late, I ate a pollo and funghi sandwich from a vending machine.
Back home in Arezzo, I have never so anticipated a meal. Riccardo, Mi Piaci.