(Waiting for them in the airport - the plane from JFK has landed!)
It was the first time I’ve ever collected someone at the airport other than at home, so I felt so jet-set when they came out into the terminal and whisked them away to our home away from home. Charlene’s luggage pull had broken, and also her strap, so we had fun wheeling and steering a suitcase that we had no control over. It meant we needed to take the vaporetto, because dealing with the suitcase through the streets would have been an exercise in frustration. Little did I know that the day ahead held many exercises in frustration for me. Luggage problem aside, taking the vap is an excellent way to see the city straight out of the gate, riding down the Grand Canal.
(On the vaporetto...)
(Palazzo on the Grand Canal)
(Even when the building is under reconstruction, they show you what you're missing.)
The Carnevale festivities had begun, and the boat parade down the canal stopped us in our tracks on the waterway, as we stopped for 15 minutes while costumed rowers drifted past to the sound of drums and a party barge of “under the sea” revelers in fish hats and octopus get-ups. The people on the deck of our vaporetto all had their attention on them and I barely had the opportunity for a glimpse of anything, hence no pictures.
After getting their bags stowed away at the apartment we set out for a trek around town. I walked them from the apartment to along the west side of the Grand Canal to Scuola San Rocco and the Frari Church to San Silvestro. Everyone was hungry so we went to Francesco’s. And we were stuffed! Francesco did not disappoint – extra appetizers galore and a generous portion of fritelle for dessert. We rolled out of there after a couple hours of talking, laughing, and my friends debriefing and decompressing from their trek over.
We continued walking the city in a circular path and when we hit the Rialto Bridge we got the full impact that the thundering hordes were in town. Thousands of people crammed into a small area and unable to move freely – yay crowds! Walking up to the bridge was a major effort as we were barely moving along in the press of people I began mooing - we were cattle heading to the barn. We could laugh at least, so things aren’t so bad.
We got across the Rialto Bridge and I took them around the neighborhoods on the east side, all the while staying clear of Piazza San Marco where all the people in the streets were streaming away from. I figured the first visit there could be at a time when a Carnevale event wasn’t happening, so it might be tolerable. We stopped in to the Consulate to use the restroom and check in for a moment. We found a farmacia (finding one open on a Sunday afternoon is a treat)so Luke could get a container to clean his contacts, and some Anti-Gola lozenges for his sore throat. Back at the house, Luke took a nap, Charlene got on the computer and I went back out into the streets to get over to the Railway station. I wanted to buy tickets for tomorrow’s departure to Florence.
And this is where my day went truly bad. The daytrippers were departing the city and the station was packed. I waited in line for almost 40 minutes to the self-service ticket machine, only to have my bank card denied. That’s odd – I had spoken to my bank as per usual prior to leaving to let them know I’d be making transactions from overseas. I’ve done this many times with no problems. So I went to the ATM in the station and received a heartstopping message on-screen: NO INTERNATIONAL TRANSACTIONS. Um…what in the hell? I couldn’t call the bank because (a) it is nine hours ahead and 4 AM (b) it’s the weekend and there is no 24-hour customer service. Dang it. Worse yet – Monday is a holiday, so I can’t speak to anyone until it is Tuesday at 4pm in Italy.
With one last glimmer of an idea to circumvent temporary poverty, I walked over to the Rialto area to find a currency exchange office open; knowing that I’d be gouged for their premium but it would be cash in my hand until I could speak to the bank. She took the card, ran it, had counted out the Euros and was about to tear the receipt for me when she frowned and stopped to run the card again. It was a no-go. Shook her head and apologized and handed me the bank card back. DAMMIT!!!
I went back to the vaporetto totally dejected, and realizing that I had been gone three times as long as I had expected to be out, and that my friends probably were wondering where in the heck I was. Inside the vap stop there was this little boy who kept yelling/singing the same little ditty over and over again. It wasn’t really a song so much as noise: a kind of “WHAAAA wahh na naaaaah –OOOOOOOOO” like an ambulance siren of his own making. After literally 30 times of hearing this and not hearing his mother maybe suggest a lower volume or not yelling it for the 80th time, I lost it. My frustration at everything happening was too much and I blurted out “oh come ON!!!!” And about 28 people were staring and glaring at me, the crazy lady yelling at a child. Please remember that I do normally mind my manners in public and am hypersensitive to being the ugly American, especially in this city I love that has semi-adopted me. But dang – somebody tell that kid to shut his piehole, will ya?
I got back to the apartment and told Luke and Charlene about the new development in my monetary status. Luke said he’d cover me until I got things straightened out. I figure that in my worst-case scenario if the bank absolutely won’t let me do transactions for some reason I will have Mark withdraw money from my account and wire it to me in Florence. But, no more worries for the remainder of the evening. I will just have to wait to deal with it all later. I cooked dinner of soup and gnocchi, we had a nice bottle of wine and we all slept like the dead.
We are getting up super early and catching the train to Florence. Whoo hoo!
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