I didn't sleep very well at all. Go figure. In the middle of the night while I was wide awake I logged on to the couchsurfing site to find a message from a traveler asking to have coffee as soon as possible. She was from New Orleans (and apparently not a drunkard) who had arrived on Thursday afternoon and needed some guidance on prioritizing her days' schedules. Her host wasn't much help even though he had stated he spoke excellent English, he really didn't. She was also a little concerned about etiquette issues regarding leaving the host earlier than expected. She had questions question questions. I returned the email that I would have some time in the afternoon to meet up with her while my tour was inside the Doge's Palace, so tentatively let's plan on meeting in front of the side exit of the palace at 4:00. I took down her mobile number she had noted and planned on text messaging her after the sun rose.
My original itinerary for the day had been to take the train onto the mainland and tour Verona and Padova, but since we hadn't done anything on the itinerary from the day before, this would be a “do over” situation. Thankfully I had been able to reschedule the Doge's tour. I just needed to get through the little talk with everyone and ensure we were all on the same page. I hate that overly used phrase, but it fits.
I arrived at their flat to find everyone awake, sober and ready to go. I was met with a sort of group apology for the day before. This made me feel a bit more relaxed, but I did still reiterate the mutually agreed upon expectations for the tour; what they should expect of me and what I need from them. I did ask them to please not drink more than the wine selected at meals simply because I wanted them to be able to keep the pace of the tour and to optimize their comprehension of the dates and details I throw at them during the lecture portions of the day.
Fresh start. Agreed. Good. Let's get on with it.
Things went very smoothly for the morning and through lunch. They asked not to take a break after lunch but to push on and show them something more. I was really happy to see them going at more than full-steam trying to make up for their previous lack of interest the day before.
I had received a text message back from Jamie, the gal with the couchsurfing questions, and we would meet up while my peeps were in the Doge's Palace. Sure enough, she was there waiting when I dropped off the clients.
Jamie is a ringer for Tina Fey. Originally from Colorado Springs, she went to New Orleans as part of the Teach America program and arrived two years before Katrina. She fulfilled her obligation to teaching science to the inner-city kids after the hurricane and stayed. She loves the city, loves the kids, loves science and went back to LSU while continuing to teach so she could fulfill her requirements to take the MCAT and apply for medical school and she made it! She will be entering LSU Med this August.
She was very excited to learn that my last incarnation of an office drone was working with resident doctors in multiple graduate medical education residency programs. Serendipity. But that's not why she wrote me...
Jamie was struggling with the right way to bow out of staying at this host's apartment. Things weren't exactly as described in his profile. There was supposed to be a girlfriend at the place, which was why she felt more comfortable in requesting a place to stay. But there was no sign of a woman living there. The guy had kept his distance and hadn't been untoward in the slightest but she just wasn't comfortable. She asked me if I knew of a cheap but serviceable hotel to go to at the last minute. I told her she should move her stuff over to my house. I would be back at the house by 6:30 and I gave her directions to the place.
What is going on with this Couchsurfing thing? I want to keep giving the benefit of the doubt that there are genuinely good people out there, but the only ones I had encountered so far had all had some kind of problem with their host. But this was the second time in a week I was performing some kind of a rescue, so hopefully I was paying forward some karma for future use.
My clients finished their Doge's tour and we headed back on the vaporetto to our shared neighborhood. The boat was a bit crowded but there were seats available to all of us, just not together. No worries, we all know which stop to disembark at. I was in the last row seated next to a guy and I was staring out the window when I felt his hand on my upper thigh. Squeeze. I looked down and then at him, and he smiled and squeezed again. I could smell Sambuca and coffee. Somebody's been drinking “caffe corretto” all day. I picked his hand up and put it on his lap and turned away to the window. He squeezed my shoulder and I told him in very low tones in Italian that he was about to lose his fingers because I have a scalpel in my purse. Get away from me. He tottered away.
Please don't get the idea that Venice is a dangerous place for women, because it isn't. I am 99.999% perfectly comfortable here walking around at all hours, which I often do. Me walking alone at two in the morning is not uncommon and I have no fears of dark corners and alleys. I would like to chalk this episode up to a singular event and someone celebrating Carnevale a little too much. Maybe I looked like I need some loving. The lonely woman in black.
The clients were on their own for the rest of the day and I went to meet my newest houseguest. We cooked dinner together and talked and talked and talked. I would welcome her to stay as long as she wanted, and I already know I will seeing her again in the future. Now I have a place to crash in New Orleans. I wouldn't stay with any of these fools I'm leading around. My liver may not make it back from Louisiana.
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