Venice

Venice was my favorite city. Bar none (except for maybe the first day at Madrid). Although we were staying on the mainland (in this cute hotel where the front desk guy didn't even speak English! Charades were quite popular during our time there), it was actually a hotel and we got our own room and bathroom and free soap. Free soap seemed like a revolutionary idea to us after bumming it at so many scummy hostels. The bus stop was also about a three-minute walk away and we got at least 5 honkings every time we walked to it, almost rivaling Seville (and that's saying something).

The city was... wow, guys, I don't even know how to put into words the beauty. On the bus, you go over this huge bridge that takes about ten minutes to get to and you can see the city shining in the distance in the middle of the water. When you got to the bus stop, it was blue canals, white buildings, tiny stone streets and gondolas as far as the eye could see.

The unique thing about Venice was that there was "no culture," as our dad put it. No museums or touristy things to do. But this was a godsend for us. Not to sound too "Wahhh, my wallet's too small for my 50's and my diamond shoes are too tight," but at this point (three weeks in) we were SO OVER ratting around as tourists. If I had to go to one more museum, I was going to vomit all over the 173rd rendition of Christ's crucifixion. No, Venice was nothing but pizza, charming alleyways that lined the canals (or dead-ended at water), arched bridges, warm weather, happy tourists, beautiful masquerade masks and cheap sunglasses/knockoff bags.

On our second day there, we took the waterbus (a huge boat, since getting across the city is a NIGHTMARE because of said dead-ends and bridges) to the Piazza San Marco, the huge square right next to the ocean. We sat in the outside seats with a happy tourist family next to us, looking out on the sunset over the ocean (glowing pink on the water) and the gobsmacking buildings and the tiny pretty boats and had to pinch ourselves. We were really here, not slogging away at work in LA or braving the cold in York? That was the time when I felt most lucky to be on the trip--it was just SO goddamn gorgeous and I couldn't believe it wasn't a dream or a movie backdrop.

In the Piazza, there were a few old buildings that you could tour, but we decided to feed the pigeons instead. This sounds boring, but it's anything but. The pigeons there are so used to tourists feeding them that with your 1-euro packet of corn kernels, they will actually fly up TO YOUR HAND and eat out of it, perchng on your arm. If there was ever a time I felt most like the crazy bird lady in "Mary Poppins," this was it. We got to be pretty much pro bird feeders by the end, knowing you had to show the birds your packet and stretch out your hand if you wanted to coax a few up. At one point, I had three eating from my hand. I wonder if I could put such a thing on my resume...

Our last night there, we ate at a fancy cafe with tables right on the water and I again couldn't help but smile like a madman at my pizza magherita (the only thing in our price range), wondering how I got so lucky and how glad I was that I hadn't listened to my dad and waited to see Venice with someone "with whom I was romantically involved."

Although making out on a gondola would be pretty rad.