By some miracle, neither of us were stopped at airport security, and we sat in the departure lounge laughing at the too-tight t-shirts that Italian men seem to favour and the surprising number of men wearing suits. Nat started calling out 'SUUUIIITTT' whenever a man in a suit walked by. We were having so much fun that we had a slight scare about missing our flight, and had to run to our gate, arriving there shaking but relieved to see a long queue of people all on their way, like us, to Venice.
In Venice, we put our suitcases in the Deposito Bagagli, behind a father and son pair (the son walked very straight and tall, like a ballet dancer) who asked us, 'How long are ya'll in Venice?'
'Just a day.'
Venice is stunningly beautiful and expensive. We walked around, wandered into a garden, bought bread, apples, muesli and rice milk form a super market, and then popped into a few churches. The churches required one to have your knees and shoulders covered, and since I was wearing a short skirt Nat and I had to fashion a makeshift longer skirt out of our cardigans.
'This is going to be a new trend, just you wait and see.'
We were entranced by the Murano Glass Pendants we saw in shop windows everywhere, for prices ranging from 5 to 7 Euros. I was overly ambitious and set my heart of getting one for 3 Euros, and it became our mission to find one for the lowest price possible. In the process, we bought an ice lolly each, and had our bread - Nat was thoroughly disppointed when she bit into her loaf and there was a gaping hole in its center! Also, for future gastronomical experiences - bread and ice cream go together so well.
At one point, we saw a beautiful window display of the Murano Glass Pendants in a shop window. Entranced, Nat leaned in for a closer look and... 'Bump!' hit her head on the glass of the shop window! We laughed and laughed. Then we entered the shop (the shop keeper had seen it all) and looked at a few more, and then asked if it were possible to get one at a lower price.
The man behind the counter looked at us in exasperation, '5 Euros is too much? If you can't pay 5 Euros, what are you doing in Venice?'
We left the shop, and they laughed as we left, which I felt was uncalled for. Nat was furious at how rude the shop keeper had been, and our mission changed from finding a pendant that was 3 Euros to finding one that was less than 5 Euros. And we did, in another shop where we got one each for 4 Euros, and left the shop with both our pockets and our pride satisfied.
The area we'd been walking in was not yet so touristy, a paint-peeling, smaller canals, and window boxes of flowers area. The houses were not large, and there were spacious squares with wells in the middle and drinking water fountains. As we got nearer the Rialto, the crowds thickened, and the buildings became steadily grander. St Marco's square was incredibly crowded, since it has the pink and white Doge's palace, St Mark's Basilica, the cosmological St Mark's clock and three buildings (now museums) with more windows than I could count. Oh, and lots of pigeons.
Around the corner is the famous Bridge of Sighs, which for some reason is less impressive to me than the imitation one in St John's College in Cambridge, but of course this original is not meant to be beautiful, since it was used to take prisoners from their trial in the Doges Palace into their prison cells. It's called the Bridge of Sighs because it would be the last time one saw the light before one would likely die in prison because of the unsanitary conditions of the cells.
I wish I could properly capture the pearlescent, pastel, intricate beauty of Venice in words. It deserves the same intense description found in 'The Waves' but I am no Virginia Woolf and I was also running out of paper.
We discovered that our tour was not in St Marco's square but in another, smaller one, and so we had to run - over bridges and through alleyways - to our destination, and we arrived just in time for the beginning of the tour.
Just as the tour began, another tour guide approached out tour guide, claiming loudly that our tour guide was acting without license and illegally. Apparently the free tours have become so popular that they threaten the businesses of licensed tour guides who then try to sabotage them with claims of legal illegitimacy - which are of course untrue.
The tour was fantastic and informative, and made Venice transform from just a beautiful place to a city of such rich history, culture and quirks that it is no wonder that so many flock there.
Venice is:
- made up of 124 islands, connected by 438 bridges
-sinking 4 cm every century, but because og people, global warming and the city itslf, it now sinks at a rate of 25cm per century
-where policemen ride on boats, and hide in between buildings with speedometers to catch the boats that speed, because the waves they create from speeding erodes the soil and accelerates the city's sinking
-home to its very own leaning tower
-a place where once upon a time, your family name was distinguished form other identical family names by what people remembered you by. For example, there was a Contarini del Bovolo (Contarini of the snail) for the family that owned a building that reminded people of a snail's shell. There was also a Contarini of the nose, for a Contarini who punched the Doge in the nose, and was executed on the same day
-where Cassa Nova escaped from prison by climbing over the roof, through the bridge of sighs, into the Doge's palace where he convinced a servant he was attending an event that was happening in the palace at the time but was feeling sick, was let out through the main gate of the palace, where he had a cup of coffee in St Mark's square before waltzing off
-where they made up their own miracle in order to make St Mark the saint of Venice, claiming that St Mark sailed into a Venetian lagoon in a fog, and the face of a lion burst through the fog, saying 'Don't worry, one day you'll be buried here and people will pray to you' (or words to that effect). The Venetians then stole the body of St Mark from Alexandria in Egypt to 'prove' it.
-where the first example of Palladian architecture, the Church of St George, gleams a brilliant white when the sun hits it, and turns yellow, then orange, then pink as the sun sets
-home to one of the world's most beautiful bookshops, where books are kept in gondolas, bathtubs and boats for when the water floods in, and cats roam freely
Halfway though the tour, we were given a toilet break in St Marco's square - the catch was, however, that to use the toilet in the cafe our tour guide had led us to, you had to buy an espresso, and use the receipt as an access ticket. Neither Nat nor I drink coffee, and the prices in the cafes in St Marco's square were extortionate. Nat was very hungry, so she thought perhaps she'd buy a sandwich from another cafe, and use their bathroom. However, every sandwich had cheese or meat, and when Nat asked if the lady could possibly make a simple vegetable sandwich, the lady was so rude. She used her bare hands to pick out the cheese from a sandwich to leave just the vegetables, and then said 'See? No cheese!' Not wanting to eat a sandwich manhandled by the server, Nat asked again politely if t was possible to make another sandwich, like that, but fresh. And the woman grew more and more irate 'No cheese! No cheese!' Nat and I left empty-handed, and ruffled by her rudeness. We managed to walk in to the first cafe unobserved and use their toilets, no espresso needed. But Nat was still hungry, and angry at how rude the shopkeeper had treated us. 'If not for the tourists, Venice would be an abandoned city,' she said, echoing what she'd said earlier about Venice seeming 'empty' despite the hordes of tourists. I understood what she meant. Venice, for all its beauty and grandeur, has an eery feeling. It is so expensive that I've heard that most locals live outside the city and commute into it for work - which is dominated by the tourist industry. Even the black gondolas with their little gold decorations look like coffins floating down the river.
But not everyone in Venice is hostile. Earlier on in the day, while treading a narrow street, Nat spotted the Museum of Carlo Goldoni, Italian Renaissance Playwright (1707-1793) who reformed Italian theatre, making it enlightened, bourgeois, and modern. We entered the museum shop, hoping to grasp slightly what the museum and the man it venerated, was about, but not intending to pay for the ticket. In the museum shop, however, suddenly the cashier and another man asked where we were from. They guessed Spanish, American, and even 'from the moon!' We told them eventually that we are from Singapore, and explained our mixed backgrounds. They laughed and laughed and asked how long we were in Venice for adn where we were going next, and we began a lovely conversation that ended in them telling us that we could go into the museum free of charge!
The man brought us around, pointing out the original murano glass chandeliers, costumes and portraits, and distinguishing the originals from the 'Cheena' (those made in China), like the mannequin and the fake fruit. Despite his difficulty with English, the man tried his best to explain the museum, giving us English leaflets and himself flipping through a corresponding one in Italian and showing us the relevant pages. He also taught us that 'bellissimo' is for a man and 'bellissima' is for a woman, and 'bellissime' is plural - and then called in the cashier and (as assigned) Nat and I proclaimed her 'bellissima!' on his behalf.
After the free tour, we ran back to the train station in fear that we would be late, but we were early, and sat with out oats and muesli dinner, washed our bowls in the public restroom, and headed to the train for our overnight trip to Zell Am See. We have beds, and spend a good few minutes doing all sorts of calisthenics on them, rolling here and there to stretch out our tired, tight muscles from all the walking we've been doing.
I change, listen to Ola Gjeilo, and fall asleep to the clackety-clack of train wheels on track.
21 June 2016
I slept well on the train, but had a strange but most vivid dream that I was a child again. Perhaps it was the rocking of the train, like a baby's cot lulling me to sleep. Nat wasn't feeling well at all, and on the train between Salzburg and Zell Am See, while I was sprawled across two chairs asleep, oblivious and bleary, she was having a terribly uncomfortable time. We arrived to cold, crisp air and a view of the beautiful placid lake, slightly misty in the morning air. We checked into Junges Hostel, into a cosy room with wooden furniture and white sheets, and a view of the mountains, including the Kitzsteinhorn which Nat pointed out.
Nat needed to rest, so she slept while I caught up on journaling. She woke up still feeling ill, and we were worried it might be food poisoning since her symptoms were very similar to what I had in Burma. I immediately thought of charcoal pills, rehydrating salts, and smecta. We called our parents and updated them, and then walked to the apothecary. Despite being ill, Nat tried her best to tell me about this beautiful place that has been her family's place for the longest time. She told me about traditional Austrian clothes - lederhosen and dirndl (we see some people wearing these!), Lufthansa Breakfasts, the bakery she and her Dad frequent, the plans for her new house, the Arabs who think of Zell Am See as a paradise and flock to it every summer. I could see why - Zell Am See is beautiful.
We got charcoal pills and anti-vomiting medicine at the Apotheke, but Nat had to sit down there because everything went black and dizzy. She didn't make a scene, just apologised to the Apothecary and asked to sit down. I was amazed at how dignified she was in such a frightening situation. The apothecary gave her water, administered some of the medicine to her, and gave us the name of a doctor close by. We managed to walk there, and discovered it was not food poisoning as we feared, but a stomach virus. Thankfully, the doctor gave us instructions, new medicine, and the hope that Nat will be better in a couple of days.
Back in the hostel, Nat went to bed, and I headed out to buy us some food, stopping on the way to get a pretzel at Nat's bakery. It had sesame seeds on it, and I kept the paper bag to show Nat, to remind her of the times there with her Dad.
Nat was adamant that I should manage to see some of the lake, and so I decided to jog around it, with her camera so I could snap some pictures. The run started off alright, although it was a little too soon after lunch to be completely comfortable. I saw a tiny pony cropping grass, and what might have been a foal beside it, but the grass was too long and wispy to see. On my right, the hills were lush and green and speckled with houses; on my left, the lake, large and dark blue and speckled with boats.
Halfway through my run, I realised that Nat might not have been the only one not completely one hundred percent, although my problem was the rather more embarrassing urgent need to go to the toilet. By the time I was 2.7km away from the hostel, I realised I Really needed the toilet.
And so, red and sweaty as I was, I ran into the poshest hotel in Zell Am See, the Grand Hotel, that happened to be just on my left.
'I was running and I think I have tummy trouble do you think I could use your toilet?' I managed to gasp out.
Downstairs to the left was the toilet, thank goodness!
Nat was still asleep when I got back, and we packed, had dinner and I caught the most beautiful sunset, the last light glinting off the peak of the Kitzsteinhorn before sinking beneath the horizon.
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