Venice had the most potential to go horribly wrong, but it was the smoothest part of our trip. There’s not much to do other than wander, and we had seen just about all of the art our little eyeballs could handle.
We got off the train and were relieved to see Maura waiting for us on the platform. We caught the shuttle train to the island, and then we had to master the art of vaporettos. Basically, Venice is a fish-shaped island that has a Grand Canal going down the middle of it. There are no cars on the island, so to get anywhere you either have to walk or catch a vaporetto—the public transportation boats. Thankfully, this segment of the journey went perfectly. We got off at the right stop, and our hostel was right on the water.
We checked in, had minor drama with some woman sleeping in my bed and her stuff sleeping in Annie’s, but luckily they had some beds to spare. After getting our things all settled, Annie and I went to the bar next door—the only place to get any food nearby. I had the best grilled ham and cheese of my entire life.
Moods drastically improved, we just lounged around the common area of the hostel, keeping Maura company while she tried to figure out her travel details for her Amsterdam trip. We sent our parents e-mails, assuring them of our continued existence, and then went to bed.
When Annie and I woke up around 8, Maura was already long gone for the airport. The two of us had breakfast and then snuck a vaporetto ride to the main part of the island… don’t tell anyone. St. Mark’s Square was practically deserted, save for a woman or two who insisted on using their bodies as pigeon feeders. Disgusting.
More under the jump.