We made the drive up to Québec City and it was great seeing only French signs everywhere.  It had everything I loved:  Native Peoples (many tribes who are also in the U.S.), wildlife, history, French, and beautiful countryside.  We stopped to get gas and by the side of the station stood a goat as if it were a dog waiting on its master.  This was certainly not the steel and glass city we’d left behind.  With our ascent it got colder and started to rain.  We crossed the Loup River and I tried to get poor Burk to stop driving on a highway just so I could get a picture.  After only a couple of hours we entered into the capital.  Québec’s Old Town (Vieux-Québec) is the only North American fortified city whose ramparts still exist.  Declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1985, we were lucky enough to be visiting on the city’s 400th anniversary.  It was founded in the early 17th century by French explorer Samuel de Champlain and was home to a pivotal battle between the French and English in 1759 that shaped the future of North America.  After checking into our boutique hotel we headed out for one of our favorite vacation activities: “schlock shopping”.  I was thrilled because they had lots of wolf things and Burk liked the toy soldiers.  Ironically, I got an “I ❤️ Québec” t-shirt when I did not even get one in New York.  The chilly, damp grayness of the day did nothing to diminish the Old Town’s charm.  I got sunburned in New York and was pleasantly surprised to find myself needing a sweater here in June.  The old streets were lined with rows of little shops and cafés all bursting with colorful blooms dripping gracefully from flower boxes and hanging baskets.  It was all beyond enchanting with people out walking the winding cobblestone streets, seeing ancient pitched roofs, and hearing tiny bells tinkling whenever one entered a store.  I felt this must have been what Paris would have been like if one could have stepped back several centuries in time.  It was our actual wedding anniversary and we had made dinner reservations at Le Ciel (the sky), a revolving restaurant in downtown within walking distance of Old Québec.  Burk proposed to me in Dallas at the now-gone Antares, the revolving restaurant on top of Reunion Tower, so it was a lovely remembrance of such a special time in our lives.  We went to the top just before sunset and were treated to a sweeping view of the St. Lawrence River and the majestic Chateau Frontenac.  My favorite memory of the meal was the butter shaped like fleur-de-lis.  I loved them so much; they reminded me of the days when there were big ash trays in front of elevators at swanky hotels and someone would come along and stamp the sand with a logo after they were cleaned.  It may be a weird association but that’s where my mind went.

“Nearly all our originality comes from the stamp that time impresses upon our sensibility.” ~ French poet Charles Baudelaire

Our time in old Québec City had already impressed itself indelibly upon mine.

We left New York and were headed to Montréal.  I could not wait to hear the sounds of French again and was excited to be off.  We boarded some type of smaller plane that completely freaked me out.  I still hadn’t flown much and this thing had one aisle with two seats on either side.  The engine was really loud and the whole thing felt shaky.  That’s the only time I’ve had a panic attack in the air — even when we were in that helicopter on a glacier in Alaska.  Suffice to say, I was doubly glad to get there.  We were spending one night in Montréal before heading on to Québec City and we were staying at the original Ritz-Carlton.  It felt very Edwardian and I loved our white marble bathroom.  I discovered Montréal overall though is a very modern city.  Since I live in a city that rips everything down every two seconds it felt like a newer, sleeker, French version of Dallas.  When I asked our concierge about dinner recommendations I stopped the minute I heard “loup.”  That’s “wolf” in French and I was ECSTATIC!  Burk was fine with it so our bellman hailed a cab and we were on our way.  We were dropped off at a charming restaurant which read “LALOUX”.  Both sound the same but in my excitement I missed the “la” when I knew that “wolf” is “le” which is masculine.  This just turned out to be the last name of the chef.  Oh well it was truly one of the best meals of my life and Burk made friends with a guy his age at the next table who was a member of Parliament.  It was fascinating speaking with him and he graciously allowed me to translate even though he spoke a little English.  The next morning we ate our breakfast in front of a little duck pond at our hotel.  I should have known there was a French connection; the Hotel Ritz in Paris’ first arrondissement (the heart of the city) was the first in Europe to provide bathrooms en suite.  Our hotel was about to undergo renovations and I found myself glad we got to see it as it was.  Confucius said, “Wherever you go, go with all your heart.”  That is exactly what we have always tried to do.

It was our last day in the Big Apple and we still had places we wanted to see.  First up:  the famed American Museum of Natural History.  I had been wanting to go since I was at least seven.  Of course Burk had been many times but he loves museums like I do so he was just as excited to go.  Built in 1869, it is one of the largest museums in the world.  I had no idea it was across from Central Park.  It houses over 32 million specimens of plants, humans, animals, fossils, minerals, rocks, meteorites, and human cultural artifacts.  Their mission statement is “to discover, interpret, and disseminate information about human cultures, the natural world, and the universe though a wide-ranging program of scientific research, education, and exhibition.”  The 63 foot-long canoe carved by the Haida Indians was nothing short of spectacular and the dinosaurs were more incredible than I had imagined.  Many were suspended from the ceiling in such as a way as to appear almost animated.  I didn’t have to lament their deaths because I knew they weren’t from any hunters’ guns so I was free to study and marvel at their size.  I felt a great deal of sadness for all the animals in the Theodore Roosevelt Hall of North American Mammals.  I understand the dioramas and taxidermy are skills; but those poor animals’ deaths in the name of preservation sickened me.  In the Hall of North American Forests we saw a slice of a giant sequoia dating back more than 1,400 years felled by lumberjacks in 1891.  It once stood more than 300 feet tall.  Thankfully, it is now illegal to cut them down.  After the museum we decided to do something a bit more light-hearted so we headed to the huge Toys-“R”-Us in Times Square.  We rode the 60 foot indoor ferris wheel where we got our picture taken and put in a magnet as a souvenir.  An ironic recap of our time in New York, we saw the LEGO Empire State Building, Broadway just outside the vast windows, and a huge animatronic T-Rex.  Next we had our final dinner in a now closed restaurant named Gino’s.  I had no earthly idea why zebras covered the red walls but I know they greeted Burk like he was a prince.  Always self-effacing, my sweet husband blushed under the attention as they proudly escorted us to our table.  This place was OLD school Italian and these men had known him since he was a little boy.  A man behind the bar came over to our table and, in a horrifying stage whisper, slapped Burk on the back congratulating him for marrying “such a beauty” and proceeded to extol the merits of doing so “before the bloom was off the rose.”  Burk was horrified and I vaguely considered telling the man I was on my way to being 38.  I kept thinking of “Beauty and the Beast” where there is one petal left on the rose — and it’s just about to fall.  But Burk’s father’s family had a long history with this place and I did not want to seem like some blue stocking feminist or harridan so I just smiled.  We had a lovely meal and I had their famous “salsa segreta” (secret sauce) which I suspect was a red vodka sauce mixed with some type of heavenly white cream sauce.  I’m so glad I got to go, as it was such a part of my husband’s past.  It saddens me that they have closed and we did not get to go back.  Swedish author Jan Myrdal said:

“Traveling is not just seeing the new; it is also leaving behind.  Not just opening doors; also closing them behind you, never to return.  But the place you have left forever is always there for you to see whenever you shut your eyes.”

It was day three in New York City and Burk wanted to see where the World Trade Center towers used to stand.  He said the skyline felt empty without them.  We went down to see a huge, yawning, hole one city block wide with dust rising up from the construction.  It was 2008 and still so shocking to see the emptiness despite the fact that I had never been.  Wandering away I stumbled upon an old graveyard in a tiny church nearby.  As I studied the tombstones dating back to the Revolutionary War I was delighted to discover it was in an Episcopal Church!  Everyone in the world probably knew that but me.  It was the Parish of Trinity Church on Wall Street.  Seeking respite from the dust, sadness and noise, the highlight of my time in New York was walking into the beautiful church’s quiet, reassuring serenity.  It wasn’t a Sunday but they were having a noonday worship service.  Burk and I kneeled and slid into an old, high wooden pew with a door made to help keep out the cold during the winter months a long time ago.  I loved the feel of privacy and found myself wishing our church had them.  As an Episcopalian, it was a joy to be in my own church.  More than anything I remember the mantle of peace that settled around me when right outside the cacophony of controlled chaos abounded.  A small Gothic Revival church, its spire and cross was the highest point in the city until 1890.  Walking out to discover the sculpture pictured above and just outside the church was the added balm to my soul.  “The Trinity Root” is a bronze sculpture created directly from the base of the great Sycamore tree that helped save St. Paul’s Chapel (part of the the church) and the historic cemetery from falling debris after the collapse of the twin towers.  When one sees how close the little church is I believe it is a miracle it was not destroyed.  The 70 year old tree was felled by the impact of the enormous crumbling buildings across the street and absorbed shockwaves which a physicist has compared to those of a small nuclear bomb.  It was laying in such a way as to shield the historic chapel and its ancient tombstones.  Sculptor Steve Tobin carefully worked to preserve the natural remnants of the now famous Trinity tree root using the “lost wax process”.  It is made of bronze and its actual sprawling root branches are 20 feet long, 15 feet wide and 12 1/2 feet tall.  Next we had lunch on the street like real New Yorkers.  As a vegetarian, I had always wanted to try falafels and they had a stand near the city’s oldest public park, Bowling Green, built in 1733.  They were absolutely delicious!  Wherever I go, wolves and Native peoples/things always find me — or I find them.  This time was no different.  We had no idea the National Museum of the American Indian was right next to us and got to study many of the pieces from peoples we had seen on our trip to Alaska.  To top it off the museum was free!  I would say this was definitely the hidden jewel of New York’s museums.  Burk’s Aunt lives in the city and she was having a party that night to celebrate her birthday.  It was lovely to be with family and drink champagne while we sailed around Manhattan on a chartered yacht at sunset.  The light refracting off the buildings was beautiful and we had a wonderful time.  English writer Augustus Hare said, “Thought is the wind, knowledge the sail, and mankind the vessel.”  We discovered, we learned, and we reflected upon it all as we glided over the water that night amidst the tangy spray of the sea.  It was a perfect ending to a lovely day.

Our second day we took a boat tour to see Lady Liberty.  I thought we’d be able to go up but it takes tickets months in advance to even get inside.  Still, she did not fail to impress.  The Francophile in me loved the connection with Alexandre-Gustave Eiffel, the man of course famous for the Eiffel Tower, but also for designing our statue’s steel framework.  French sculptor Frederic-Auguste Bartholdi created the statue itself using sheets of hammered copper.  The island where she resides is now known as Liberty Island and the Statue of Liberty remains one of the most recognizable landmarks in the world today.  When we disembarked I got Burk to sit still for another portrait.  (I don’t care for caricatures).  He felt like the one from our honeymoon in Paris made him look like a serial killer.  This one he felt made him look 12.  Next it was time to change for an unfashionably early dinner at the 21 Club.  I had seen pictures of it on TV but it was Burk’s childhood stomping ground as his Grandmother often dined there for lunch.  So I saw it with new eyes and Burk saw it through the lense of time.  Established in 1922, it was originally a small speakeasy that moved locations and was raided by police several times.  As soon as a raid began, a system of levers used to tip the bar shelves, sweeping the liquor bottles into the sewer.  We were essentially alone in the restaurant at that hour but that was more than fine with me.  I got to walk through the various rooms without being stared at while I took pictures.  After dinner we literally ran into Elmo on the street and I made Burk have his picture taken with him.  I feel so badly because I did not realize you were supposed to tip.  <cringe>  “The Phantom of the Opera” was everything I thought it would be and much, much more.  The set design was the best I’d ever seen.  Going down the staircase of The Majestic at intermission was a bit like stepping back in time.  It opened in 1927 and until the ’70’s was the largest theatre on Broadway.  Currently it has the longest running production with Phantom in Broadway history.  I have inherited my mother’s long-standing pet peeve of disiking Dallasites for jumping up to give a standing ovation for absolutely ANYthing.  She studied classical music for over 20 years.  THIS however definitely merited it.  And so with that I shall close with Andrew Lloyd Webber’s famous lyrics from “The Phantom of the Opera”:

“The Music of the Night”

Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination
Silently the senses abandon their defenses

Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender
Turn your face away from the garish light of day
Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light
And listen to the music of the night

Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before
Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar
And you live as you’ve never lived before

Softly, deftly, music shall caress you
Hear it, feel it secretly possess you
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind
In this darkness that you know you cannot fight
The darkness of the music of the night

Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world
Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before
Let your soul take you where you long to be
Only then can you belong to me

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in
To the power of the music that I write
The power of the music of the night

You alone can make my song take flight
Help me make the music of the night

I figured since I’d gotten to see Lady Liberty in Paris on our honeymoon I should visit our own Statue of Liberty in New York.  So for our first wedding anniversary Burk let me choose New York City and Québec.  We arrived at the airport and some Russian guy approached us saying we could ride in his limo for the same price as a taxi … with no waiting.  We said sure like a couple of idiots and found ourselves in the bowels of the airport parking lot.  I was relieved to note some type of badge in the guy’s dash once we eventually made it.  He was really very nice and took us to our hotel in a white stretch limousine that reminded me of the one I wanted to take to prom in the ’80’s.  It really was something in a dated sort of way and turned heads for varying reasons I’m sure.  Our hotel was right by the UN and they had a federal officer with a drug sniffing dog checking everyone’s bags before they entered.  Much to my horror, the yellow Lab lingered and lingered over ours … to the point of humiliation.  She just wouldn’t stop!  I finally explained to the large, well-muscled, non-smiling man that we had wolves and cats and that must be why she was so interested.  Yeah, like that made it any better.  We were eventually cleared and our poor bellman took our well-snuffled luggage up to our room.  Much like our honeymoon when we headed straight to the Eiffel Tower that first day, we decided to begin our trip by going up the Empire State Building.  As I have mentioned previously, we are not ashamed to be tourists.  At 102 stories, the limestone structure was the tallest building in the world from 1931 until 1970.  I loved its Art Deco style and had no idea it was named one of the Seven Wonders of the Modern World.  The project involved 3,400 workers including hundreds of Mohawk iron workers, many from the Kahnawake reserve near Montreal.  We also saw the beautiful Grand Central Terminal with its Beaux-Arts style and intricate designs both inside and out.  I was surprised to learn it is one of the world’s most visited tourist attractions.  Burk’s paternal Grandmother used to live at the incredibly posh, very exclusive Sutton Square in the ’70’s for over 20 years and he knew the streets like the back of his hand.  As a girl coming from the wide open spaces of Texas, I felt a little hemmed in.  It was hard to see the sun with the tallness of the buildings and my eyes continually burned with everything seemingly under perpetual construction.  Still, we’d had a nice first day and I made friends with our doorman who was from Cuba.  He and I spoke about cigars at length and he seemed genuinely delighted to have found a fellow aficionado.  As we headed up the elevator I found myself praying our building wasn’t going to sway in the wind; we were up pretty high.  Kurt Vonnegut referred to New York City as “Skyscraper National Park”.  That was my view of it as well.

This was the last day of our honeymoon.  Burk and I had loved it and we found that we traveled great together.  It was a day filled with laughs.  First, we discovered pay toilets.  That was bad enough (and beyond gross) until the prudes in us realized the bathroom was unisex.  Thinking back of how round our eyes were I’m quite sure we did not look particularly sophisticated.  Next came lunch.  I have been a vegetarian for years for animal ethics reasons and have been squeamish since childhood over dead critters on plates.  I will NEVER forget the look on Burk’s face when the fish he ordered arrived staring back at him from the platter — he looked absolutely horrified.  So he resorted to frantic hand gestures trying to convey to please have it deboned.  I guess the waiter figured it out judging by the wan green color he saw that washed all over my new husband’s face.  Afterward we headed out to Murano Island to see the world famous glass making factory.  It was so incredibly hot I had as much admiration for the man’s centuries-old skill in blowing glass as I did for his tolerance to the extreme heat.  They had two showrooms.  The first was more of a display gallery for folks able to drop a TON of money on big pieces.  What I resented though is we were each assigned a “handler” who followed us individually EVERYwhere.  I understood them wanting to protect their wares but this was truly offensive.  I could not turn around without literally bumping into the woman who was tailing me.  When I asked if they had anything less expensive the woman smirked and directed me to what was simply a nice gift shop where they had smaller things like Christmas ornaments, vases, and paperweights.  I got a dark blue bird and believe me it wasn’t cheap.  Ha!  Cheep!  Punny and I didn’t know it.  Anyway, after touring and shopping we headed back to the main island and passed under the ever-watchful winged lion perched high atop the city.  Pictured here is the famous Rialto Bridge.  One of four that span the Grand Canal, it is also the oldest, having been completed in 1591, and was the dividing line between the districts of San Marco and San Polo.  That night we ate on the water’s edge right where this picture was taken.  We watched the sun set and met a couple in their 80’s who had not been to Venice since their honeymoon.  I remember thinking I hoped we would be like them:  still traveling, still active and, most importantly, still in love.  Of course we could not leave without taking a gondola ride.  I found the one guy who knew a little French and tried to haggle with/cajole him probably to no avail.  Ready for this?  It was over 200 euros — 200 EUROS!!!  Highway robbery but I felt to leave without having ridden Venice’s canals would have been the bigger crime.  We passed another gondola where the man was singing.  A churlish part of me wondered if they’d had to pay extra.  We knew it was time for us to go to our new home and start our everyday lives together.  Canadian entrepreneur Guy Laliberté said:

“I am blessed for what I have, but I believed in it from the beginning.  Today, the dream is the same:  I still want to travel, I still want to entertain, and I most certainly still want to have fun.”

The same holds true for me.

Next we headed to where I had been looking forward to seeing most in Venice — St. Mark’s Basilica.  My father’s name was Mark and I adore Byzantine iconography.  We were in the heart of Venice at the Piazza San Marco.  Since I do not have any pictures of the interior, I must have blocked out the memory that picture taking was forbidden.  I can understand prohibiting the use of flash photography due to preservation issues, but it frankly irks me not to be able to (respectfully) photograph inside a house of God.  The first thing that struck me were the stunning dark blue and ground gold mosaics that reached all the way to the top of the high domes.  The interior was based upon Constantine’s Church of the Holy Apostles.  Vast marble floors were covered in animal designs which of course I loved as well as intricate geometric patterns.  It all felt very Eastern.  I heard the basilica was referred to as “the Church of Gold”.  I kept thinking to myself, as we were shuffled along like cattle, it still felt like gold was being extracted repeatedly from each of its visitors.  One could hear the steady “chink chink”, “chink chink” reverberating to the ceiling from people doling out to visit this place or that around the naves.  I didn’t see anyone praying and it felt more like a museum than a holy place of worship.  Finally herded to the stairway, we were able to go outside onto the balcony.  It was there I was able to take pictures of the great bronze Horses of St. Mark that face the square which were installed above the portal of the basilica in about 1254.  They date to classical antiquity and were long displayed at the Hippodrome of Constantinople.  In 1204 the Doge at the time had them sent back to Venice as part of the loot sacked from the Fourth Crusade.  I pray the feel of this church has changed since 2007.  Leaving the steady sounds of clanking coins behind, we headed out into the bright noon day sun.  Pigeons were everywhere and I thought THIS was how I had always imagined Italy.  An Italian bride and groom were being photographed in the middle of the famous St. Mark’s square surrounded by all those birds.  Next we headed up the iconic Bell Tower of Saint Mark and ascended the 323 foot tall campanile where a loggia surrounded a belfry.  One used to announce executions, the Nona sounded midday, and the largest rang to signal the beginning and ending of working days.  The campanile’s initial construction was in the 9th century and was used as a watch tower for the dock.  After taking in views of the ocean and basilica, we headed back down into the plaza.  Water sloshed up to my ankles and I marveled that the tide had rolled in and spilled over onto the square.  Deciding to have a cold drink, our jaws hit the ground upon discovering there was a fee JUST TO SIT, an extra fee for ordering food, another fee if one wanted to be inside with air conditioning, plus several other nonsensical add ons including 20% gratuity for essentially being ignored.  Venice is a tourist’s down, and they didn’t seem to like tourists.  Funny how Parisians have gotten a bad rap for being rude when it was definitely the Venetians.  Our money was being drained at a mind numbing pace.  So we split one tiny bottle of Coke with a lemon and I kid you not it ran almost 15 euros!  Ice was extra.  Novelist Roman Payne said:

“Cities were always like people, showing their varying personalities to the traveler.  Depending on the city and on the traveler, there might begin a mutual love, or dislike, friendship, or enmity.  Where one city will rise a certain individual to glory, it will destroy another who is not suited to its personality.  Only through travel can we know where we belong or not, where we are loved and where we are rejected.”

Despite the swankiness (and pants wetting cost) of our room it only had a tiny shower.  So I was thrilled to discover the extra bowl next to the toilet in which to shave my legs.  That’s right — the bidet.  😜  Plumbing would prove to be a recurring theme throughout our time here.  We had notices placed in our bathroom glasses saying NOT to drink the tap water under any circumstances — even to use for brushing our teeth.  So they provided little bottles of water solely for the purposes of dental hygiene.  It was not just our hotel; all water had to be purified before consumption.  Burk wanted to begin the day by visiting the Doge’s Palace just a stone’s throw away from our hotel off the Piazza San Marco.  Built in the Venetian Gothic style, it is one of the main landmarks of the city.  Once the residence of the Doge of Venice, the supreme authority of the former Republic of Venice, it opened as a museum in 1923.  The Republic of Venice was a major maritime power during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance.  It served as a staging area for the Crusades as well as a very important center of commerce.  Silk, grain, spice and art from the 13th century up to the end of the 17th century made Venice a wealthy city throughout most of its history.  While we were standing in line to get in, an old, hunched over gypsy woman with one scrunched up eye wearing a head scarf was going up and down the line begging with a can.  I have never minded giving money to anyone who was doing SOMEthing; whether it be singing, posing for pictures, playing an instrument, or just being kind in giving directions.  But my daddy often said one could always find some way to work.  So when she got to me I smiled genuinely and said, “No, grazie.”  She then began a tirade where she proceeded to jab her gnarled finger in my face and started raining down what I truly believe were curses upon my head.  She got so worked up spittle flecked from her mouth onto my face as she was standing so close.  Like an idiot I just stood there and kept smiling at her.  It lasted about three minutes and she became progressively louder, gesticulating wildly.  Truly, it was like something out of a Grimm’s fairytale.  I do believe there is evil.  If something like that ever happens again I have vowed to rebuke them and make the sign of the cross.  On another cheery note, pictured above is the famous Bridge of Sighs which we also visited that day.  It spans the Rio di Palazzo (Palace River) and was intended to connect the old prison and interrogation rooms in the palace to the new prison situated directly across the river.  There are a couple of theories as to how the bridge got its name.  The first involves the prisoners that walked across on their way to the executioner who were said to sigh, probably catching their last glimpse of the outside world.  Another story says that if a couple kisses under the bridge at sunset they will enjoy eternal love.  Thus the sighs are said to come from lovers.  This romantic view was created by the Poet Lord Byron with his writings:  “I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, a palace and prison on each hand.”  The bridge itself was beautiful stretching high above the canal.  Composed of white limestone, it is generally known as one of the finest examples of bridge architecture in the world.  A mix of grandeur and a kind of Godless desolation seemed to hang over the entire city.  I couldn’t help but think of Paris being called The City of Light.  In Venice, I believe we’d found our contrast.

We boarded Air France and were on our way to Venice.  The Venetian airport was covered in enormous, sexy color photos of beautiful, half naked Italian men selling Versace and Dolce & Gabbana.  It was hard not to gawk.  The next shock came dropping 100 euros on a water taxi to get to our hotel from the airport in what could have only been a six minute ride.  It was exhilarating and somewhat unnerving to be zipping along in a vaporetto where the man literally steered with one hand as he was turned around BACKWARD chatting with us, all the while weaving in and out of boat traffic at breakneck speed and with a seemingly blind eye.  But docking right at the door of our hotel was one of the coolest things ever.  It was hard to fathom a doorway leading directly from the ocean that stepped one straight up into our five star hotel.  I chose it because of my passion for Vivaldi.  He taught there when it was a girl’s school and even performed his “Four Seasons” in it.  The building was likely first depicted in 1500 in the famous “bird’s eye map of the city” by Jacopo de Barbari, celebrated Renaissance painter and engraver.  It also boasted the largest collection of antique crucifixes in all of Italy!  I think that is really saying something given the Vatican in Rome.  I once wrote a book on Christian iconography; getting to see them up close and not even in a museum was incredibly special.  As I recall they had impressive collections of ladies’ fans and gentlemens’ snuff boxes as well.  All were in excellent condition and had exquisite detail.  The hotel was steeped in luxury and history.  In addition to Vivaldi in 1690, Freud stayed at the hotel in 1895.  Going down that proverbial waterway, I found my first visit to Italy and Venice to be laden with all kinds of sexual undertones.  If Paris was feminine, Venice struck me as very, very masculine.  There were penises everywhere, and I don’t mean just on statuary.  Vendors had them on men’s jogging shorts, cooking aprons, underwear and even on spoof credit cards that read “Mister Hard:  Accepted from women all around the world”.  As a feminist I was glad to see men naked for a change.  But this was a city I do not feel a woman should walk in alone.  The INSTANT I left my husband (we went looking in separate stores) I was hand kissed and hit on aggressively by several Italian men who did not seem to be inclined to take “no” for an answer.  The entire city carried a dirty, dark, sexual feel for me I was not expecting.  They had “living statues” of body painted people posing for Euros wearing creepy masks which freaked both of us out.  I did some research and discovered the masks originated with the plague.  Its macabre history dates back from the 17th century French physician Charles de Lorme who adopted the mask together with other sanitary precautions while treating plague victims.  The “plague doctor” mask to me looked birdlike, with a hollow beak and round eye slits.  The doctors who followed de Lorme’s example wore the usual black hat and long black coat as well as the white mask and white gloves.  They also carried a long stick to move patients without having to come into physical contact with them in hopes of preventing contracting the disease themselves.  Mass graves have been discovered on Venice’s “Quarantine Island” just a couple of miles from the famed Piazza San Marco.  The Bubonic Plague decimated Venice, as well as much of Europe, throughout the 15th and 16th centuries.  We were told that if one encountered a bird-like masked person back then it was a warning to turn around because the plague had struck.  Comic fantasy writer Christopher Moore said, “Everything in Venice is just a little bit creepy, as much as it’s beautiful.”  That pretty much sums it up for me.