Venice! Oh, So Romantic!

We arrived in Venice seriously sleep deprived, slack jawed and bleary eyed, but determined to make the most of our short stay.  Our first task was too locate our hotel.  That should be easy enough, but we soon discovered that the small family owned hotels and pensiones don't have large neon signs announcing their presence.  Trudging down a narrow lane in a maze of narrow lanes with our luggage in tow, we were finally flagged down by our host who pointed to a 4 inch rectangular sign 'prominently' displayed on the facade.  How could we have missed that?!

Not wanting to waste another minute we splashed some water on our faces and set out to explore the most romantic city in the world.  First stop was the famous St. Marks Square.  Standing in the center of the square we did a 360 to try to take in the incredible beauty of the architecture, the competing live orchestras from the outdoor cafes, the copious number of pigeons underfoot and the many tourists speaking all of their native languages.  A deep breath and a "pinch me, am I really her?" moment later and we were approached by a nice looking Italian man looking casually rumpled in a  dark sports jacket and white shirt.  In broken English (not as broken as my Italian) he explained that he could take us to the Isle. of Murano to see a free glass blowing demonstration.  Then he said the magic words - "NO CHARGE".  Maybe it was the 36 hours of no sleep we were dealing with, but neither of us had much sales resistance just then.  The next thing we knew we were boarding a private speed boat with a strange man in a foreign country.  We exchanged glances mutely asking each other "Are we being kidnapped?"  Then with a shrug, "Oh well, if we are being kidnapped, we are being kidnapped in Venice!"

True to his word we were delivered without incident to the Isle. of Murano where there was in fact a free glass blowing demonstration.  This being a Sunday, most of the shops were closed except by strange coincidence the shop located up the stairs from the glass workshop, which is where we were ushered next.  Truly, Murano deserves it's worldwide reputation as producer of the world's most beautiful glass.  It was worth enduring the high pressure sales pitch to see such exquisite works of art in  person.  Sadly, the prices were well outside what we could afford.  At least that is what we thought until we discovered that they provide a second buying opportunity for bargain hunters downstairs.  I found a glass bird for more money that I would ordinarily spend for a weeks worth of groceries, but hey, this was art!  I bought it and never looked back, except to see what our personal sales guy was shouting at us as we walked down the street. Apparently we didn't spend enough money to satisfy him and he was making a last ditch effort to send us home with a beautiful hand blown vase and empty pockets.  Murano is a quaint, seemingly peaceful place after experiencing the crowds in Venice.  Neither of us harbor any regrets that we risked kidnapping, spent half of our souvenir budget on one special item and had to catch a vaporetto (water bus) to get back to the main island because the free boat ride was one way only.  It was a wonderful half day, and could only have been made better by spending more time.

That evening we were so exhausted that we laid down on the bed fully clothed, telling ourselves that just a couple of hours sleep would fix us right up.  That was the night that Italy experienced a country wide blackout.  I don't know how often the sirens went off that night, but it seemed like it must have been every hour.  Completely oblivious to the blackout, we couldn't understand why they would want to torture us with those awful sirens.  We never got up though, just rolled over and said, "gee, that's annoying". It wasn't until days later when I was reading my e-mail at an internet cafe that I learned of the blackout and reason for the blaring sirens.  Where were we during the Italian blackout of 2003?  In Venice, the most romantic city in the world, and loving every minute of it.

-L.W. of the Brew Crew