Thursday, 19 February, 2009

We woke around seven and finished packing the odds and ends, along with some cleanup around the apartment, ready to exit by half-past. And yes, the one bottle of Star Trek Wine remaining was making the journey north with us. We cleaned the store out of it - I can imagine the proprieter wondering what caused the run on Rubicone Sangiovese that week... Anyhow, I took the garbage out with us since there was signage reminding that the rentals do not have garbage service. Gianna and Gabriella don’t expect to have little bags of refuse outside of each apartment door, nor in the hallway by the front entrance on the ground floor. They ask the tenants take their refuse to the nearest public dumpster to deposit. In walking around, I didn’t see where one was in the vicinity – at either end of the block. One would expect dumpsters near the San Lorenzo market, or near the Duomo, but I must be blind. I felt bad about it, but we ended up dropping the small bag at the foot of a regular garbage can at the corner. There wasn’t space to put it inside the can, and we were not the only bag at the base of the can. At least I wasn’t leaving it in some shop’s doorway.

We walked on to the ferrovia, the train station at Santa Maria Novella, along with a group of high school kids. They ended their journey at the bus stop across the street and we went inside the station, which was fuller than I have ever seen it – even the height of summer. After buying the tickets we stood/sat on the platform waiting to see which binario (track) our train would depart from. You could tell that this train to Venice was going to be crowded. Many on the platform were already in festive gear. Little hats and masks out, children half in their costumes already. It was nice to see that being festive wasn’t only relative in close proximity to the Veneto region. Another way we could tell it was going to be crowded – our seats. We had purchased our tickets together for second class, but one seat was four cars down. Luke opted to take that seat by himself – he could sleep, but also if we were separated at the station in Venice he could find his way back on his own.

(Waiting for our binario to come up on the big board)

There were many people traveling together who must have had the same seat assignment situation with the ticket issuance, because there was more than one group in our car that needed to negotiate with the true seat holder to allow them to sit with their friends. “But please, we are travelling together; we don’t want to have to sit in car 8. Please?” Most of these pleas were heard from what I could see, and the groups were able to remain together. Funny thing, after the train started up everyone fell asleep. So that’s it – you “need” to sit together so you can take a nap? Oh well…

(Passing the time on the train. There's not much to see now, but I imagine the colors of these fields are spectacular in spring and summer.)

Luke came to sit with us during the last 20 minutes of the ride. We arrived back in Venice with no fanfare, but the city was definitely full of revelers. Masks, costumes and painted faces everywhere. We walked back through the streets to the apartment, about twelve minutes away, versus squeezing onto an overcrowded vaporetto to stand for a half-hour to Ca’Rezzonico.

Back at the house Luke set himself to creating easier access for us all on the wireless internet. The signal was very weak in the kitchen where the router is located and not only did we have slow reception, it was also intermittent and cut us off. We moved the router upstairs where there is a stronger signal and all is better now. I just needed to remind them both that we need to disconnect when we aren’t using the internet. When I checked into the apartment, Antonio told me he had just switched the service and wasn’t sure if it would be unlimited yet or if it would be on the next billing cycle. He previously had a program that allowed ten hours per day of service. I told him I would be mindful and not jam him up in that respect.

We were hungry and it was past noon, so we walked over near Campo San Toma to the Trattoria Dona Onesta. I was introduced to this restaurant by my friend Giorgio about five years ago. The owner is a very sweet man named Safwat, whose origins are from Egypt. He looks a bit like Tony Shaloub but has this voice that I can only describe as the timbre of what I would think a pear would sound like. A bit grainy but dripping with sweetness. He is a kind little man with black eyes, who is very warm and attentive to his customers. He always sits with me and we talk about our travels. The last time I was here he asked if he could take me for dinner to somewhere away from his restaurant. He wanted to be able to give me his undivided attention and not have to worry about someone dragging him into the kitchen with a question. I refrained, simply because I didn’t want it to end up being a miscommunication of some kind. Did dinner mean something else? I have made that mistake in the past, and sheepishly had to explain to my husband back home that “dinner” or “a drink” or “borrowing batteries” means something more clandestine and racy away from home. The lone woman travelling myth rears its head again. We are not all out looking for gigolos - really. I have run into this a few times. Once in Rome the bartender told me he could “help me out” for the evening after his shift. Ummm…no, but thanks. He probably has takers more often than not. Good for him. Not interested. Maybe one day I will take Safwat up on dinner elsewhere, I’m certain his aims are not untoward, but I feel we should know each other much better before then.

Arriving at Dona Onesta, I saw that the proprietor wasn’t in; his brother was manning the hosting duties. He did recognize me and asked how I have been. He told me his brother would be back in the morning if I wanted to stop in, but he would tell him I was back in town. He will be pleased to see me again, he said. And then in he walked through the doors, like it was scripted. The owner came over immediately and shook hands, hugged and kissed. I introduced my friends and he chatted a few minutes with us. Our food arrived and we dug in. I had tortelloni in a cream sauce, Charlene had a spaghetti carbonara and Luke had a pasta course of some kind, along with a zuppe de pesche. And the zuppe was fantastic; not only the broth, but the prawns and clams in there alongside. The broth is very flavorful with or without the barnacles. Mmm good! Safwat came along and made certain we had frittelle and limoncello to top off the afternoon. I promised I would be back in a few days and we toddled off.

(Lovely limoncello, my bit of sunshine on a winter's day)

I did need to stop at the grocery on the way back for provisions. We loaded up on juice, wine and breakfast items and I got the makings for a feast of chicken, spinach salad and pasta for us all. One more stop before home – a much needed mezzo kilo of gelato from “Il Doge” – my favorite gelateria in Venice. A fine mixture of coffee, tiramisu, berry and chocolate/hazelnut 'bacio' would we awaiting us after dinner. Mmmmm.

We rested up a bit and went down to the Piazza San Marco to check out the festivities. A large staging area takes up a third of the square. As we arrived there was an aerialist hanging from a balloon doing a routine for the crowd. The balloon was “floated” by a team with ropes and in time to the music the girl would spin and swoop the crowd, rotating and turning a la Cirque du Soliel, but on her descent she would reach out to the crowds' outstretched hands and throw glitter and confetti to them. Maybe she passed out candies as well, I wasn’t close enough to tell.

(Aerialist in the Piazza)

We moved on around the Piazza, with me giving Charlene a mini-tour of the sites there. I promised we would see the inside of the Basilica when we went to mass, and we could go up to the top of the belltower on Friday or Saturday. The piazza was thick with people in full-dress costumes, some just in masks or face paint and loads of us not dressed festively but enjoying themselves anyway. There was hardly room for the pigeons. Where do the birds go when there are so many people, I wonder?

(Giraffes at St. Mark's?)

(Too cute!)

Back at home I went down early for the night. I had twisted my knee a bit while descending from the train at the station, and Charlene said she thought she was getting sick, we both headed to the bed. She got up later and went out roaming the streets with Luke. They ended up in the campo listening to music until after midnight. I barely remember them coming in and out. Ah, sleep!