4th Installment : Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink

It was an uneventful train journey on our next stop to Mestre (mess-tray) which is just over the bridge to Venice. Our Airbnb is a room with private water closet in a 4 bedroom apartment with a 300sq.ft terrace on the 3rd floor of a 10 storey building. The owner, an entrepreneur, and her 2 pre-teen twin daughters occupy part of the space along with 2 cats. One cat is reasonable, the other one is not, and I would recommend it be declawed just below the throat. It minced my hand and forearm the minute that we arrived. I like cats, just not this one. I think his name is Razor.

It turns out that the best part of the stay is a lovely woman named Megan, who is working there as a volunteer helper/maid/cook/cleaner/child care worker (indentured servant?) through the Work Away travel program, and only arrived the day previous. Another task that was foisted on her was as the Airbnb greeter and that’s where we met initially. Typically they match hosts needs on the platform and work 3-5 hours a day with 2 days off to travel and absorb the local experiences in exchange for 3 meals a day and a place to sleep. The length of time at each location varies by the hosts needs; 10 days, 3 weeks, a month, whatever is compatible.

Her last stay was at a villa in Tuscany primarily as a grounds maintenance worker where everyone was expected to dress appropriately for dinner and the meals were created by a chef and staff (in other words, heaven). Her next assignment is in La Spezia acting as a companion for a middle-aged woman. Coincidentally we will be there next weekend, but she won’t be arriving until after we have left; too bad as she is a real firecracker who understands and tolerates my humour. The 3 of us made a good team.

Megan, who’s home country is South Africa, is a seasoned solo traveler these days and had MANY exciting experiences over the past 3 decades including a horrible 3 month stay in Israel in the late 90s where she was forced to rescue her more timid friend who was about to be assaulted in a holy area of Tel Aviv. ‘Knuckle sandwich anyone… oh, low hanging fruit’ … boot, biff, pow, whimper… She grew up with 3 brothers, nuff said.

Anyways, we’re here to sample the riches of one of the most historical cities in the world. Venice (Venizia) was a world power for nearly 1,100 years until Napoléon dissolved the Venetian Republic in 1797. It was one of the most influential areas for art, theater, and fashion during its long reign of power.

The majority of the land is reclaimed from a lagoon with a myriad of canals winding around the almost exclusively stone buildings supported by millions of oak and larch piles driven down to a hard layer of clay. In some James Bond movies they’re shown as being balanced on giant airbags but I can’t vouch for that. Oh ya, Megan has a friend who wrote for some Bond movies and was influential in getting South Africa included in multiple episodes of the series (Pierce Brosnan era).

Because of the lengthy ride from Rome to Venice we arrived in Mestre in late afternoon and decided to search for food and refreshments and get the lay of the land and wait until tomorrow to take the dive into Venice and it’s architecture. I’ll dedicate an entire post to some of the quirky features of each Airbnb once we get a few more under our belt, but suffice to say this one was unusual in a good way.

So, late morning brought us out to the bus terminal just a few hundred meters from our door and we were off on our mission for the day. Seating was sparce on the bus so Carol and I sat apart for the 20 minute journey. She’s sat beside a pleasant Italian matron and I beside a young German ne’er do well who was drinking his morning wine from a one litre box and looking for some robust conversation. I could tell from his breath it was an entry level pinot noir, probably from, let’s say, spring 2025. His scalp was shorn to 3mm, nose ring of appropriate size and caliber, modest tattoos of random objects (knife, lightning bolt, bird bath, toaster). He seemed disappointed that I wasn’t American so I had probably never killed anyone. I thought he needed Jesus, but he said that he had never been to Mexico. And then we arrived at Venezia Centro and we parted ways; us to plumb the history of the Renaissance and he to steal someone’s watch.

As we’ve been known to do, our first turn upon arriving was the wrong turn and we squandered what little time that we had by wandering aimlessly down dimly lit brick corridors that all ended in a watery finish and we were forced to retrace our steps and begin anew. Carol and I like to be near the water when adventuring and I had brought my trunks not realizing that the lagoon makes the Red River look like a crystalline path to nirvana. There was not a diving board in sight. That being said, there is a small fishing fleet moored near by as the water is teeming with all manner of aquatic delicacies which are on menus throughout the city.

After regaining our bearings we began following the route suggested on the tourist information map and headed towards San Marco Palace (Saint Mark’s Square) but the mid-day heat forced us to look for food and drink and after several stalled attempts we stumbled upon a hole in the wall named Camin Storto (slanting chimney) which was exactly what we were waiting for. Approximately 200 sq. ft and with seating for 8 it was brightly lit through the door less entryway and window to the street.

A spirited 23 year old (Eliza) who was majoring in languages (and dramatic eye liner) was behind the bar along with her co-worker (nameless big, bearded, jovial fellow) and schooled us on the tapas-style dishes displayed in the window. Consisting of multiple types of seafood on thin toasted bread, mine was sardine and caramelized onion. Carol loves the sea only for gazing at and frolicking in so she had eggplant parmegano and some other non-finned delicacy. I had my first Italian aperol spritz and Carol convinced herself that red wine was in order as an apertif. So as we are apt to do, we grilled Eliza on her current life situation, how many languages did she speak (3 fluently including Japanese, and 3 others were in the works) and what were her future ambitions (come on girl, spill the goods). Jovial sidekick was non-verbal and had to work as we occupied our newest friend’s time and exchanged travel stories. We, of course, had a great time and it enlivened hers also. Now where is that mammoth, hulking cathedral?

Venice is known as the City of Bridges, we crossed most of them, some twice. My calves were the size of fire hydrants when we got home! And how many gondola pics can you take in one day?

We came, we saw, we conquered the most memorable sites that Venice had to offer. Now the bus ride home and hopefully dodge Razor before heading to leisure time in our room.