An American in Venice

The morning we left for Venice I awoke to my usual irritating (and creepy) European cell phone alarm repeatedly chanting “time to wake up, time to wake up”. Annoyed as I was I knew I had an unforgettable weekend ahead to explore the streets well, in this case canals, of beautiful Venice.

Upon our arrival I could barely lug my clunky L.L. Bean duffel bag from the dock onto the water taxi. However, to my (enormously pleasant) surprise three kind Italian men proceeded to successively take my hands and help me “gracefully” enter. I couldn’t believe the effortless chivalry of the Italian men and hoped the American boys would pick up a few tips to bring back home. After settling into the sauna that was the water taxi it finally hit me that I was on a water taxi. Venice had no cars and the main forms of transportation there included gondolas, boats and walking. Compared to America, let alone my temporary residence of Firenze, I couldn’t believe what a difference modes of transportation could make in a lifestyle. Immediately I realized Venice truly was an old treasure with a different way of life. It’s a way I’m not used to in bustling America yet had no trouble enjoying.

The 4th of the July was a day I’m sure many Italians weren’t ready to experience by 40 loud Americans on the island of Lido outside of Venice. Marking our territory on its striking beaches we blasted an I-Pod with Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the U.S.A.” and ran around with an American flag. We had arrived. After the scorching heat quickly attacked my body I ran into the water with a Coca-Cola Light in hand. As I bobbed in the water holding up my can I noticed three young Italian men to my right exclaiming, “What is she doing?” as the other one replied laughing, “she looks like the Statue of Liberty with that can in her hand!”. Lucky for me, I understand a fair amount of Italian. I couldn’t help but laugh knowing I somewhat represented America in Italy on the 4th of July and the Italian men didn't even know.

Although I loved the ancient beauty of Venice I still reminisce about the magical island of Burano. The quaint and quiet island resembled a town out of my old storybooks. A five year-old would think he or she were entering an enchanted island. Petite pastel colored homes lined its delicate stone streets creating an Easter egg reflection in its surrounding waters. Every time I gazed from a bridge down to the water below I believed I was looking at an actual watercolor painting. The island contained few people who had a charming and quiet aura amongst them. Naturally, as my friends and I roamed we found ourselves in front of a gelato stand with two Euros in hand. As I enjoyed its sweet and sticky deliciousness a warm yet soothing breeze embraced me and I remember thinking, “Hey, I could live here”.

My lovely weekend in Venice was one to remember and I hope to return someday.

Ciao for now!