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.