Tuesday 8 March – Al Fine da Carnevale 2011

I made a big breakfast for everyone. Frittata with herbs, cheese, mushrooms and pancetta, home-fried potatoes, fresh fruit salad with yogurt, croissants with apricot marmelade baked in (courtesy of the bakery down the street) and prosecco with blood-0range juice. Faux-mosas, we have christened them.

Zoe went out sightseeing with my marked maps and “must-see” notes and Luke & Char rested the morning away, recuperating from their whirlwind touring the previous day.



We all met up for dinner – a “proper” meal that even my persnickety Venetian brother would approve of – marinated antipasto salad of olives, mushrooms, red bell pepper strips, mozzarella balls, artichoke hearts, zuppa di zucca (Luke's favorite), baked florentine chicken and roasted brussels sprouts.

For dessert I had sent Zoe out to the pasticcieria to buy a Venetian specialty avaiable only during Carnevale – the fabulous zuccotta! It is a layered dish, similar to a trifle, with maraschino liqueur, fruit (cherries in this case), zabaglione custard, chocolate mousse, and whipped cream. I've had the other kind before, with a sweet pumpkin-flavored mousse in place of the chocolate in ours – thus the true name of the dish, zucca is pumpkin (or squash) and “cotta” for cooked. Like panacotta means cooked cream = panna+cotta. It's probably good they only make this a few weeks a year – you may as well adhere it to your thighs because that's right where it's going.

But that is what Carnevale is all about, the decadence before the austerity.

Zoe in particular was nuts over the zuccotta and vowed to buy another one in the morning for us to have for breakfast tomorrow before she leaves for Florence. I like the way this woman thinks!

We grabbed up our wine-filled waterbottles and headed out for Campo Santa Margherita to people watch before going to see the boat procession. Charlene and bought her mask to match her crown, at the place around the corner where Luke had also purchased, and I lent Zoe the mask from New Orleans that Jamie gave me. We were fully equipped.

Walking over to the campo by way of San Barnaba we saw that the pasticceria where I had bought the zuccotta was still open at 10pm. Zoe went in and bought one and asked for spoons too. Two zuccotta in one day – whoa are we decadent! Actually, between four people it's not that much. The container only holds about two cups' worth. But it needed to thaw a little before we could eat it. We went to the steps of the flagpole and I kept it on my lap, hoping that it would warm it sufficiently to eat soon. We chanted “Zuccotta Zuccotta Zuccotta” to help it along. It wasn't really helping yet.

At eleven we started walking to the Salute church. I had figured it would be a good place to see the procession, since there are lots of steps there, we wouldn't have to stand on a bridge or jockey for a seat in a vaporetto stop in the cold. The streets were filled with (drunk) revellers all in masks and/or costumes. There were lots of groups in themed costumes, playing cards, angry birds (I have never played the game so I take it at my knowing-friends' words), nuns and priests, caterpillar sections, all having fun.

The Accademia bridge was a full-on crush of bodies standing shoulder to shoulder. People couldn't walk across it. I am glad I didn't plan on watching it from there. I am not really claustrophobic, but it just didn't look like much fun being crushed like it was the 50th Anniversary of the Golden Gate Bridge – been there done that.

As soon as we rounded the corner away from the Accademia the streets were a ghost town. Nobody on the walk with us to Salute. I started feeling pretty proud of myself for thinking this was the way to go. We arrived and there was virtually nobody there. A football field – length of steps and we were the only ones up there. Over the next thirty minutes maybe two dozen people joined us, but it definitely was not like at the Accademia bridge. I am genius.







But it was damned cold sitting on marble steps, even all bundled up. Wine can only make you so warm, and the zuccotta was not thawing. We had made Luke put it inside his down jacket (put it down your pants if you have to Luke – it's for everyone's benefit!) for the walk over from Santa Margherita. Checked it again, still needed thawing. Damn.

So as I was looking across the water I had a brainstorm – a true lightbulb over the head moment – we should try to get across the water on the next vap and go sit on the terrace at the bar of The Consulate. We wouldn't be on cold steps and we had tables to set our cameras on for filming and pictures.

Duh. Why didn't I just plan this from the start? Oprah may speak in terms of “aha!” moments – I think in terms of “duh?” moments.

So then it became a race against the clock. They would have to shut the vaporetto lines down at some point to stage the flotilla of gondolas to start at Rialtoand make their way down the Grand Canal. Were we too late? We could catch a boat in either direction to the next stop and walk over in a few minutes. Would a boat be coming?

Everyone was on alert. At 11:46 I saw a boat coming. We trotted down the steps and hopped on, took it one stop to Vallaresso and strolled in to the Europa Regina at 11:51. I nodded to Marco at the concierge desk, he shook his head at me, surely thinking “poor crazy girl” and waltzed in to bar Tiepolo to find Aldo behind the bar. I sent them outside to get a table and ordered wine for all four of us. It was the least I could do since we were using their tables. I told Aldo I would come in and bring it out, he didn't need to deliver it to us. “No problem, cara mia.” Love that Aldo!

We made it, and were a bit warmer not being completely exposed to the cold. We were the only ones out there when the bells rang out at midnight, then other guests and staff came out, including Marco and the porters. The gondolas came a few minutes later and small boats with small engines, trying to be as silent as possible, and hundreds of balloons were released into the air, ghostly ascending into the night air. Boat after boat came wafting past us, almost eerily. Shadows on the water. I took some film but without good lighting most of it is not worth seeing.


From "The Consulate" terrace looking at where we had been, wicker seats with cushions beat cold marble steps any day!

We finished our wine and Aldo refused to take any payment for it. I kissed him on the cheek and told him I would see him a few days. 'Si, cara mia. Buona notte!” Walking out of the hotel we got a wave from Marco and the porters. I wasn't going to try to catch a boat after this, there would be way too many people, so we made the “8 bridges to home” walk back. Twenty two minutes later we were thanking the house for being so warm and having zuccotta, finally thawed out.

A good night, enjoyed by good friends – old and new.

Monday 7 March – Locanda Ca'Kris

I heard Luke & Charlene leave the house to go catch the 6:30 am train. They didn't takemy kindle, but Luke has been to Rome before, he should be able to show Char around just find. They both also have iphones so they could look things up in a pinch. Luke had said his plan was to buy tickets for the hop-on-hop-off open air bus, so that would easily transport them to the major sites. I know Charlene needed to go to Saint Peter's as her major sightseeing of the day and everything else would just be gravy.

My foot feels a little better, but I kept the menthol patches on it just in case. I had told the two of them to leave any laundry for me they needed doing and I commenced the washing and hanging laundry process when I woke up. Cleaned the kitchen and dining areas spic and span, got the bedding ready for Zoe to sleep on the fold-out in the living room downstairs, did a little bit of grocery shopping and waited for her call that she had arrived at the station.

I met her at the vaporetto and we talked for about an hour about how I came to be here in Venice and working in Italy in general. She's a librarian, wife and mother of two young ones (3 and 4) who lives in Charleston, SC and her husband is an engineer at Boeing. Wow.

She went out for a walk before dinner. I asked her to be back at 7 and I would have food on the table for us. Just before 7 Marco called and said he would be finished with work at 7:30 and he wanted to come over and show me movies he had taken on his Flip camera. Could I show him how to work the editing software? I told him to come for dinner with me and Zoe. He was confused – where are the others? They went to Rome for the day.

“Roma?”
Yes Roma.
“Roma, where there is the Colosseo?In Lazio? In the south?”
Yes, the same one. Capital of your country. That Roma.
“In one day?”
Yes, one very long day.
“You Americani. So crazy.”

Yep, we are crazy Americani.

Zoe called me not quite in a panic. She had lost her way in the streets and now that it was after sunset she really didn't know how to get back, but she thought she was close by. I had her tell me which bridge she was closest to, or the name of a restaurant or shop she was near. She said Taverna San Trovaso near Accademia Bridge. I kept her on the phone a few minutes while I gave her directions how to get back, she was about 7 minutes away. We rang off, and I waited. And waited. And waited.

I called her back and asked if she was okay. She had taken a wrong turn somewhere and didn't know where she was. I asked her if there was a restaurant nearby – go in and hand the phone to someone working there. She had somehow only gone about a block from where she had been before and had been kind of going in circles for twenty minutes. I almost told her to wait there and just have Marco collect her on his way and bring her, but she might think that odd that some guy pop in and say “Kris sent me, come with me.” I told the man on the phone at the trattoria to have her stay there I was coming. I put a note on the door for Marco in case he beat us back to the house.

I found her and we had a laugh about it, got back to the house and three minutes later the bell rang. Marco joined us for dinner of soup and pasta, which he likes to rag me about. “Krix, is two primi dishes, we do not do this.” I really don't care, it's a vegetable soup and a little pasta with tomato sauce and it's enough for me if I don't want to make a big meal. But to a traditional Italian it is blasphemy or something; no secondi dish means no protein. Even though there are beans in the soup and meat in the bolognese sauce, you'd think they were going to die from not having a dish of chicken or steak or fish twice a day. Oy.

“You want so much to be Italian, but you do not make a secondi.”
I don't want to be Italian; I'm Irish and German, so I can't “be” Italian. So there. You want a secondi? Go get yourself a pizza. I told you what I was making for dinner and you came anyway.
“I hoped you only forgot to tell me about secondi and you have a chicken in the ho-ven.”
I'm a terrible host Marco. Please forgive me for not being your housewife or your mother?
“Okay, one more time I forgive you. No more, ceci.” Jackass.

In the mean time, Zoe cracked up at our verbal exchanges. “You guys are comedy! But you are worse than me and my sister fighting as teenagers.” This sums up my relationship with the guy, and she nailed it in five minutes.

He is now calling my house “Locanda Ca'Kris” - Hotel Kris' House. I like having people around right now – I've been in the country for a month and planning for Luke & Char to be here for a week in the middle of my stay was brilliant. It's the energy shot I need to get me through the next half of the schedule. I need to plan for someone to come visit me mid-trip every stint, until I can get used to being away for multiple months at a time.

Marco found it very interesting that he was having dinner with two married ladies whose husbands don't mind them traveling alone. I am very happy to know that my hub-unit is not the only man out there who is okay with this. In Zoe's case it's a bit of a necessity for the time being. They had decided to each take one vacation alone and one together each year while their kids are still very young. This way it doesn't disrupt the kids' normal daily schedules and they still get to go somewhere they want to go without dragging disinterested or behaviorally challenged young ones. When both kids were at least seven they will start doing the longer family vacations, but until then, she gets to come to Europe for two weeks a year and see what she wants to see without the headache of compromising with the kids in tow. Brava!

After dinner and dessert (I was forgiven for the paltry meal because I had gelato, but of course) Zoe went out take a night cruise on the Canale Grande on the vaporetto. Marco and I booted up the computer and I looked at his movies. The guy is a Speilberg in the making, I tell you. Okay, maybe a well-known documentary maker then...

He made short movies of people in the Piazza San Marco and all their costumes. Asked them where they were from. In a few short days, just on his way to and from work he had taken 205 short clips of people in wonderful costumes – just regular people, not the professional Fantasie-costume models who don't talk behind their masks.

I showed him how to start editing out the extraneous - he just wanted a frame or two of the costume and the person stating where they were from and the costume again, then switch to the next. I wasn't about to edit 205 clips, but I showed him the tools and how to shorten each clip, then how to stitch it together. When he was comfortable and ready he could take on the whole task on his own. He seems okay with it, so now I know I won't be taking that camera home with me. I may not make a proper Italian meal 100% of the time to his satisfaction, but I can pick out a good gift. So there.

Zoe returned and we showed her what we were doing. She got very excited seeing all the costumed visitors, and said she couldn't wait until she was able to see them all herself tomorrow. She went to bed at 11:30, Marco left just before midnight, and Luke & Charlene came back at 12:30. I had a bottle of wine and glasses in my room for when they came home so we could talk about their day without disturbing Zoe to go get refreshments.

They had a blast. I'm glad they went, even if hearing their story of the day's events was exhausting. I'm glad I stayed home. It was a long day!

Tomorrow is Fat Tuesday and the end of Carnevale. Everyone needs their rest so we can stay up late for the midnight silent boat procession. Goodnight.

Sunday 6 March – When Did I Get So Old?

After last night's be-bopping my feet hurt. It was a feeling of bruising on the balls of my feet,but the small bones on the top of my right foot also feel bruised and the tendons inflamed. I am no stranger to foot pain. I have have serious bouts of tendonitis and tendonosis with my left ankle. I was in a walking cast for almost six months throughout 2009 and have have cortisone shots in the bursa sac at the ankle. Working side by side with an honored podatric surgeon has had its benefits. Dr Ford kept me up and running during my traumas, but since leaving Kaiser's employ I haven't had any flare-up that have hindered me. I think my office working environment kept me cursed, quite frankly. I still knock wood there won't be more problems, at least not while I'm over here, and thus far, it's working out for me.

So I knew I needed to keep myself inactive for a day or two. I may actually need to cancel my plans to go to La Fenice for the opera- the idea of climbing the stairs three or four stories to our nosebleed seats at the operahouse wasn't a good idea. The other solution for me to go would be to goon myself out on codeine, and probably fall asleep under my chair as a result. I don't have to make the final decision for at least a day though, so time would tell. The most important thing was not to overextend myself in anyway. I need to heal myself before my next tour starts up. Hat good would I be to these people who expect me to be a trouper? Gah, when did I get old?

Charlene and I headed out to celebrate Mass at San Marco. Another day, another opportunity to try and count tiles in the mosaics. Outside in front of the Doge's Palace we took pictures of the Fantasie costumed beings at their photocall.

We walked over (slowly, slowly) and picked up the tickets at La Fenice. Just the box office section was ornate and elaborately decorated, with giant chandeliers and huge gilt framed mirrors. Gorgeous.

I spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch with icepacks and mentholated pain patches to take the edge off. Luke & Char went out sightseeing and picture-taking.

We walked over to the San Polo area and ate at Alla Rivetta. Our waiter thought he was a comedian, at my expense, and was promptly cursed with breaking glasses and dishes galore in the space of three minutes. That was funny, to me...

I made my way home and Luke & Char went to check out if anything was going on for evening festivities at the Rialto. When they got home they announced they were going to on a daytrip on their own. I'm thinking they would go to Padova or Verona, so they totally surprised me by saying they were going to go to Rome on Monday.

Wow! It's a 3.5 to 4 hour train ride each way, and even with taking the first train out of Venice and the last train back, it gave them nine hours essentially in Rome. Whirlwind to say the least, but I gave my friends Allan and Trixy a tour of about that length last year when they took a cruise and had one day in port. I rattled off the general itinerary I followed on that day and offered them my Kindle to take since it has guidebooks on it.

I was going to be meeting a couch surfer who was staying with us for two nights on Monday afternoon, so even if my foot wasn't being wonky, I still needed to stick around for her arrival. Zoe had grabbed my attention with her email request of how difficult it was to find a female host where a married woman would feel comfortable and safe in staying. She's originally from Sacramento and went to Mills College and is in her mid-30s. I believed immediately that she would be a safe bet and a good fit for our wacky little group for a couple of days.

Saturday 5 March – Lightsaber Jesus and the Kissing Bandit

While walking around a few days ago with Jamie we stopped at La Fenice, the opera house, so I could tell her the history of the theater. This current building is the third incarnation, after having been burnt down twice before. The last fire was in 1996 and it took ten years to rebuild it, which they did in the manner of “come'era dov'era” - where it was, how it was. Although I have had invitations to attend in the past, the timing has never worked out so I haven't seen the inside, which is the classic, grandiose gilt and red décor and gigantic chandeliers. Think of the movie Amadeus and you've hit the nail on the head. They hold tours of the theater but I have yet to get around to it.

In looking at the schedule of events while with Jamie, I saw that they are playing Puccini's “La Boheme” while I'm here. I've always imagined the tickets to be incredibly expensive or hard to obtain the cheap tickets since they go so quickly. I resolved to attempt to get some tickets while Luke & Char are here, whether they want to go or not. To be able to see the inside is what's important. I know Luke would be interested. He was here with me in 2006 when the theater reopened, and I know he has read John Berendt's “City of Falling Angels” - a book about the process and bureaucratic nightmare that it took to do it. Berendt is a great writer, he also wrote “Midnight In The Garden of Good & Evil” which spent four years on the NYT bestseller list and Clint Eastwood made into a film starring John Cusack and Kevin Spacey. Berendt has a way of getting to know the people of a city and really getting the details down. I recommend the book about La Fenice to anyone who hasn't read it, he tells the stories of real people who are great characters in themselves and digs under the surface for his stories. I can relate; the people I know in this city have fascinating tales to tell, just as the city itself does. Venice is a seductive mistress who gets you to keep coming back to her, no matter what the cost.

So this morning I went online in search of tickets to La Fenice. They had tickets available for the Tuesday afternoon matinee in the section “solo ascolto” - listening only for 11E each. If you wanted to have a full view seat it jumped to 130E per. I figured we really wanted to see the theater itself – I may
know opera but friends aren't really into it, so we would at least be able to take in the experience of going into the theater and seeing it as we walked to our seats. That and if I only hear the music, I'm good.

I announced to the troops that tickets had been purchased and we went out for a late “breakfast” at 11AM of pizza over at Campo Santa Margherita. What goes with pizza? Beer of course. An excellent way to start the day in my opinion. We didn't get out of there for two hours, so it's not like we were complete degenerates...

Later on in the day we went around the corner from the house to a mask shop for them to shop. The man makes the masks by hand with papier mache and molds – it's definitely not like the Made in China fare found at most souvenir shops. Venice may be overrun with tourists and crappy souvenirs, but it isn't very difficult to find mask-makers still doing it the traditional way. There are plenty of artisans still working in this town, and I'm happy to throw business their way.

Both Char and Luke found masks they like, but only Luke pulled the trigger and made a purchase right then. It's a great mask – a jester crown with blue and crimson points and gold trim. With Luke's white hair, the colors are even more vibrant. Charlene is looking for a mask to compliment her New Orleans mardi Cras crown she got there last year and the mask-maker has a one that's perfect but she wasn't ready yet.

That evening we got all dolled up after dinner and went out. I was in my black velvet “gypsy” ware and my new lace mask I purchased a few days ago, Luke had his new mask and Char was being royalty from New Orleans. We are an odd trio, but it works!


How do I learn not to take the most craptastic photos of myself?

We made our way to Piazza San Marco to check out the festivities in the “Gran Foyer” at the stage set up for Carnevale. The stage is reminiscent of the stage at the Fenice, with opera boxes for VIP access (upon paying the fee, of course) and most of the stage shows are interactive with the boxes. Well, good for them.

There were the sounds of a drum circle playing in the gated area in the center of the piazza – I immediately thought I was at Burning Man or UC Berkeley on a Sunday morning. But the crowd was having a good time. There wasn't much going on except people-watching for great costumes and stepping out of the way of hooligans and dropped bottles (and more than a few firecrackers thrown at our feet.) Asshats.

It was a bit of a letdown after the fabulous show with European dragqueens two years ago. Oh well. What can you do? Just like Lollapalooza, it “misses” every couple of years in terms of true entertainment.

One guy nearby was wearing a Jedi outfit and I pointed him out. “Hey look, it's Luke Skywalker. Or Ben Kenobi.”
Luke's response: “Or it's Jesus.”
Char's response: “Jesus doesn't have a lightsaber.”
And this threw us into fits of giggles. Yeah, we're idiots, but we have a good time with it.

We decided to strike out for the Rialto area to check the goings on over there. A few turns away from the bridge I made the decision to stop in at Bar Torino in Campo San Luca. My friend Davide had taken me there a few times in October and I know they tend to have live music and djs playing. If they do that at other less festive times of the year, they must have something going on during the Saturday before Carnevale.

I was so right in my assumption. We arrived at the campo to hundreds of people dancing in front of the bar to a stage and four djs spinning old 70s and 80s funk and R&B, and into 90s hiphop. We grabbed some beers inside and went back out to dance. Dance we did – for more than two hours. It was a great time. The mix of people was great, the vibe was frenetic. People dancing and laughing. I'm not a huge fan of hiphop and rap, but I definitely know my way around the genre. And when you start playing House of Pain's “Jump Around” in a campo in Venice Italy and everyone knows all the words, it's a great scene.

I am by nature a people-watcher. I can't help it. In airports, while shopping, at restaurants, I just tend to see things going on around me and access things pretty quickly. I kept seeing this man standing near me who was looking in our general direction. He was alone but that's not odd in a crowd like this. Late 40s, handsome enough. He was bopping along in time to the music like the rest of us, but you knew he wasn't familiar with the music even though he was having a good time. He would stand near me for long periods and smile periodically, but he wasn't overly freaky or anything.

I got separated from Luke and Char at one point. I had a phone call come in on the mobile, saw that it was a call coming in from the Europa hotel (is it sad that I know their phone exchange numbers???) so I mouthed to Char “I'll be back in a minute” and moved away from the music of the campo. It was Serena at the bar – she was trying to eject a drunk and needed some help with an English translation. She kept me on the phone for a few minutes and when the call was complete I needed to find a bathroom. All that dancing created an urgency, let's say. I knew that the Bonvecchiati hotel wasn't far away and the night doormen have seen me enough times when I've gone to visit Marco (on nights he's called in to help out there) that they wouldn't trip if I used their facilities.

I came back out into the street and saw that guy. He didn't say anything or acknowledge anything, and I found it a little weird. He let me walk past and I could hear him behind me as I walked back to the campo. Okay, so he's escorting me, just stay back, buddy. I have a scalpel in my bag, after all. The loud music had ended since it was past 11PM and the scene at the campo was breaking up. I didn't see my friends so I checked inside. Still no sign. I tried calling the numbers for the phones I had given them on arrival – no answer. Now I had to use my brain and try to remember their US phone numbers. I called Char and she picked up – whew! My brain works after all. As I was standing on the street a few blocks from the bar I saw the “gentleman escort” nearby in a doorway looking in my direction. I stared directly at him and he left the doorway and moved past me. I see you sucka, what are you doing?

Char and Luke were making their way back to the house. I told them I'd meet them there in about 20 minutes, I just needed to catch the boat at the Rialto stop. I picked up the phone and called Marco, since he would be leaving work about now. He had mentioned earlier in the day that he would try to meet up with us. It also gave me the opportunity to let the “gentleman escort” know I could possibly have an assignation and his escort services were not needed any longer. But Marco let me down – he was going to have to stay longer at the job, until 1AM so he would go straight home afterward. In the meantime, I saw the man walk past me again and down the street while I was hanging up with Marco.

I have said before that I have never been scared of walking alone in this city, no matter what hour of the night it is. It is a very safe city. However, as I have also said, I have some trepidation when it comes to Carnevale time – there's a huge influx of people not from Venice in town, lots of drinking and incorrigible hooligan-types that are not usually here. Let's just agree that I make myself more aware of my surroundings at these times. Knowing the city as I do, and all the shortcuts to be had at every turn, I decided not to take the marked route to the Rialto vap. If the guy had heard me on the phone which is pretty safe to assume, I at least hadn't said which route or direction I was going once I got to Rialto, or which stop I was going to in order to get home. I ducked down a side street and passing a bar, I found myself face to face with a priestly-costumed guy in the alley.

“Sorella, mi sorella. Dammi un bacio e poi si può passare attraverso.” Sister, my sister. Give me a kiss and you may pass through.

No harm in that – I gave him a peck on the cheek. And then five others came outside for the same. Six men, six pecks on the cheeks, and at the end of the kissing gauntlet, as I had been doing my random pecking, my gentleman friend had passed by me and joined the crowd. Ugh, really? I went in to kiss his cheek and he turned his head and it landed on the mouth. And it was an actual kiss. Dude! No tongue, please. I don't know you and I don't share your last name that I am aware of. So I pulled away and said “Buona notte, signori” and walked on to the vap. He was behind me and as I stepped out into the crowd on the bank of the Grand Canal I called Char again. This dude was creeping me out now, and I didn't want to take the chance he would follow me home, so I told them to bring a bottle of wine from home and to meet me in Campo Santa Margherita at the flagpole.

He didn't get on the boat. I made my way to meet up with my pals and we elegantly sipped wine from the plastic bottle procured from the neighborhood vinaria across the street from house, people-watched, ate pizza and went back home for a good night's rest.

Friday 4 March – Today's Lesson Is...

I woke up to a crash at 4AM and found Charlene trying to pick the dividing screen off the floor that is her room's door. She had picked it up to move it aside to go to the bathroom and one of the sections came off the rail, so to speak. No problem, I would be able to fix it when it was daylight.

We had a lazy morning and had lunch at home before heading out to the lagoon islands. Seeing Murano, Burano and Torcello was the itinerary for the day. Charlene hadn't seen them two years ago when she was here on her first visit. I planned the timing so we would be able to eat dinner on Burano at Il Gatto Nero when they opened at 6:30PM.

Apparently we caught the slowest boat to the transfer station in Murano. We had the milk-run route, in effect, as we went to every stop in the area, and it took longer than I remembered. Probably due to the time of day and the time of year. These routes change a little during the day so they can accommodate the tourists and workers so some boats have abbreviated routes, some have every stop. What can you do?

We transferred finally and on the 40 minute ride to Burano I made friends with a baby in his pram. I love happy smiling, no fuss children. He was a doll, and I had a nice conversation with his mother while playing pattycake and peekaboo with him. She told me she was relieved to have a short break from entertaining him constantly, in order to keep him occupied and quiet. The family is brazilian and spending Carnevale time in Italy, the first time they've been away from Rio de Janeiro's annual festival. She was surprised and pleased at how different it is than in Brazil – much more family friendly. It was a nice ride, even though we were on the deck and it was cold out.

Once on Burano we walked the 100 yards to the launch to catch the boat to Torcello. Showed Charlene the churches and took her photo in what has been name “throne of Attila” - a stone-carved chair which most likely never saw the backside of Attila the Hun, but we'll just keep that between us. No sense in spoiling it for everyone.


Charlene on Attila's throne


I don't know why the kitties are named Dingo, but here they are

We saw the sights and went back to Burano with a little bit of time to spare before restaurant opened. As we walked over to it I could see the outdoor seating was packed away, but in winter they are more likely than not to only serve indoors. Approaching the place one of the waiters came outside and I asked him if they opened at 6:30. He said Yes, then said No. Funny. Their closing day is Monday and here it is Friday. Then the owner/chef came outside so I asked him “Aperto alle diciotto e mezzo stasera, si?” Open at 6:30 tonight, yes?

No. Not open tonight.

Whaaaaaaaa? It was like the Soup Nazi on Seinfeld telling me “No risotto for you!!!” He wasn't mean, just matter of fact, but no explanation as to why.

Here Luke and I had been talking all day about the amazing food at Il Gatto Nero – the grilled fish and the seafood risotto – and we had her jazzed to go there, and it wasn't freaking open? I was trying just figure out why they weren't open. We walked over to the main drag through the island and it dawned on me. There were signs up for Carnivale di Burano, which I had seen days earlier when I was there with my group, but actually looking at the poster I could see it was huge community procession being held in the park on the island on Friday night. That had to be it – everything was shutting down for the locals to celebrate together.

Oh bother. So here's the lesson for the day: Carnivale di Burano means no risotto dinner for you.

And the teasing commenced. Charlene thought it was hilarious that she had been hearing so much about this famed risotto (dude, Tony Bourdain featured this place and the risotto making on his Venice episode, even though I've been frequenting it much longer than he has) and I make the oversight of not knowing the island shuts down this day every year. For the rest of the evening she would pop up with “Did you know? Carnivale on Burano is the Friday before Carnivale? And did you know? No risotto!” A new inside joke for our arsenal.

We took the boat back to Venice proper. Starving all the way.

I took us to Trattoria da Bepi which is located about ten minutes from the vap stop we disembarked from in Cannaregio. We had 20 minutes to wait for them to open, so we did. It may not have been the much-discussed seafood risotto, but we had a lot of great Venetian specialties mixedin with “regular” food. Luke had pasta aglio-olio, then cuttlefish and polenta, I had shaved artichokes (the castraure variety only grown in the lagoon islands) in a balsamic vinaigrette and then tagliatelle al granceola (the tiny spidercrabs found only in Venice) and Charlene had spaghetti carbonara, then scallops. We all opted for tiramisu for dessert.

All kinds of yum!

We meandered to Piazza San Marco to walk off some of the two liters of wine and all that food and then home.

Did you know that on Burano the Friday before Fat Tuesday there's a Carnivale celebration? Now I do.

Thursday 3 March – Nevica e Amici: Snow and Friends

I met the departing clients at their apartment at 5AM with a taxi to take us to the airport. The problem with taking a boat to the airport is that you usually still have to haul your luggage from the boat docks to the terminal, about a quarter mile away up a ramp. However, I called for a transport while we were on the water to meet us. First class service, kids, is how I treat my peeps. I got them checked in and said goodbye. Just before getting off the boat, one of the ladies handed me an envelope and told me they didn't have as many euros as they had hoped to give me as a tip. So she wrote me a personal check that she hoped I would accept. Gee, thanks. Like I can deposit this by mind control into my bank back home. It's the sentiment, right? I know that guides are not supposed to expect tipping- that it's a gratuity we are to grateful to receive, but after these people I had hoped to have a clean break. Instead, I have to hope they don't cancel the check because they are disgruntled or something after the trip is over. Whatever. Good riddance.

Their flight was leaving at 7:30 and Charlene's was coming in at 9:30 so I hung around the terminal having coffee and a cornetto. I stepped outside for a minute and saw something I haven't seen yet in all my visits to Venice. Snow! It doesn't happen that often and usually doesn't have the chance to pile up and make snowmen or anything, it's usually too wet. But to see the flakes coming down in flurries was very pretty. I am not a snow person; I can usually deal with it for a few days when we go up to Tahoe on rare occasions. I hope this doesn't linger.

Charlene's plane landed early at 9:03 but she didn't come out of the security gates until an hour later. She said the luggage just wasn't coming through on the baggage carousel. I guess the baggage handlers were playing in the snowflakes.



The BOOT is here!

We took the ATVO coach back to Venice which dropped us at the bus terminal at Piazzale Roma. I got some photos while on the bus of the snow on the ground along the way. We took the vaporetto back to the house and froze on the deck of the boat while being pelted in the face with cold water- the flakes had turned to sleet. Charlene would be sleeping on the foldout in the study / den next to my room and Luke had already claimed the attic room upstairs. She dumped her suitcases and after catching up on the goings on in her world and the flights over we went grab a bite to eat at the Dona Onesta. We had a leisurely lunch, including amaretto after meal drinks courtesy of Safwat, before heading back to Piazzale Roma to meet Luke. I got a text from Luke when he had boarded the bus and we headed over on the vaporetto. Charlene took a nap on the way.


Snow in Venice


From the bus. Snow on the ground.


More snow on the ground. Enthralling, isn't it?

Met Luke's bus in the freezing cold. At least the flakes and sleety-rain had stopped, but now it was just cold. The three of us walked back to the house and Luke put his stuff upstairs. I showed them the neighborhood and we went off to the grocery store for food supplies.



Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuke

We spent the late afternoon catching up and drinking wine from the vinaria across the street. Then Charlene discovered my bottle of amaretto and dipped into that. She fell asleep at the table before I had even started dinner, so Luke walked her over to the couch and covered her with a blanket while I prepared the meal. We ate and she snored. Love that girl.

Luke's plan was to remain awake until 10PM so we headed over to The Consulate for a nightcap. We visited with Giorgio and came back around 10:30 – Luke wins! Charlene had woken up and moved herself up to her room. I cleaned up and crashed. I am officially on my own time now, not beholden to schedules and I love it.

Wednesday 2 March – Out on the Islands

I had arranged a private taxi to be at our disposal for the day. We were taking it out to the lagoon islands of Murano, Burano and Torcello and coming back to “Venice proper” after lunch.

Murano was first found by the Romans but became a permanent settlement in the 6th century. Along with Torcello and Burano, there have been people living there longer than in Venice proper. They had their own Ducal Council, controlled a bustling port while Venice was still “growing up” as a city and even minted their own coins. Decline came in the 11th century when residents began moving to what is now the Dorsoduro area (where I am staying) and Venice annexed the island grouping into the Republic's control.

The island became known for glassmaking after the furnaces were all moved to the island in the 1290s after series of fires in the foundries burnt down sections of the city. In a city of wooden structures crowding one another, keeping the ovens away from housing is important to prevent constant disaster and displacement.

We visited the Basilica di SS Maria e Donato and its wonderful byzantine mosaic flooring and the church of San Pietro Martire with its paintings by Bellini. We visited the world famous Seguso factory to see a glass blowing demonstration and did some shopping before island hopping over to Torcello.

Torcello is where the story of Venice truly began. I've written previous entries about the history of the island, but the micro version is that people from the mainland kept getting overrun by barbarian hordes so they would escape to the islands in the lagoon. The attacking boats couldn't navigate the shallow waters. After a few hundred years of this they permanently settled the islands in the 7th century officially by building a church there. Nothing says “we are here” like building a church, right? Thus, the history of Venice begins...

We toured the churches of Santa Fosca and Santa Maria della Assunta and made our way over to Burano for lace shopping and lunch at Il Gatto Nero da Ruggiero.

I arrived back home at 4PM just in time to hear a Festa di Laurea happening below my windows in the courtyard below. This is the post-graduation “parade” that University students celebrate in receiving their degrees and doctorates. My house is very close to three different campuses here in the sestiere of Dorsoduro so I get to hear them going past. One at a time, the graduate is brought before their department chairs and given a final questioning (even though they have already tested out and completed their classes – it's all formality.) After their passage they are presented with a wreath of bay leaves around their neck for the men or laurel headpiece for the ladies. Friends and family are present and then they take to the streets to celebrate. Their friends are in charge at this point. They have already prepared a large poster with a caricature of the graduate and written an epic poem citing their adventures and experiences at University. In tiny typeface. They dress the grad up in a funny costume relating to their degree and put them through a ritual of walking through the streets singing “Dottore! Dottore! Dottore del buco del cul. Vaffancul! Vaffancul!” They are announcing the new Doctor in a derogatory way to the masses, but it's all in love, as they are essentially making fun of all the hard work put into their studies now makes them superior to those still in school. Direct translation: The Doctor, the Doctor, the Doctor is an asshole. Fuck you, Fuck you.

Isn't that sweet?

They stop somewhere, put up the poster, strap a bottle of some alcohol in their hand, tie their arms partially behind their back so they have trouble reaching their mouths with their now-TRex'ing style arms and make them read the poster aloud to everyone. If they mess up they all shout “Beve! Beve!” - Drink! Drink! - and they have to start the paragraph over. In the meantime they are trying to distract the grad by throwing flour on them, sillystring, making them eat bizarre foods, like Nutella on a (new) toilet brush or cucmbers dipped in spices and condiments, giving them more adult beverages, etc.

I filmed this kid who was in the courtyard below, dressed as a cross between Pinocchio and Harry Potter who was a Laureate in Agricultural Studies. He was very slow in his reading and filming the 50 minute reading made my hands go numb. I'll edit it all later on "when I have time..." It was cold out there. And they were kind enough to put down a plastic dropcloth to catch the mess.

Video clip of Andrea's festa di laurea


Finally. Our farewell dinner for this group. We went to Ai Gondolieri and had a wonderful dinner. I tried their lamb with blueberry sauce, as recommended by some of my foodie friends. It was heavenly, and I'm not a big fan of lamb. I am done with this tour, except for dropping them at the airport in the morning.

Marco called me at 10PM, just after I got back home. He just finished work and wanted to stop in to say hello. I hadn't seen him in a week. I was finally able to give him a present I had brought over as a belated Christmas / early birthday gift. A Flip digital video camera. I know he likes filming the firework celebrations the city holds every year at Redentore and New Years. He's used a digital camera he has that's the older style of a Sony DV mini-disc and has edited them very well. I have a couple of DVDs he's made over the years. I've had a Flip for a while now and am a huge fan – I'm on my second one, an HD version that came out this year. The editing software that comes with the camera is very easy to use requires minimal techie knowledge. I gave them to Mark's and my families for Christmas this year. No, I don't own stock in the company, I got a great deal and am happy to share, that's all.

He was very surprised and didn't want to accept it at first.”Too much of a gift. Too expensive. No no no.” I told him it wasn't too expensive and to try it out while I was here. If he didn't like it he could give it back to me when I leave the country. But I know he will like it and not give it back.

I showed him the basics of using it and started editing from the Festa di Laurea I had filmed earlier in the day. You can grab a still shot if you want, edit sequences together, fade ins and fade outs between scenes, mix the volume, add music if you want and titles. Pretty much just about everything the aspiring filmaker needs. He was hooked pretty quickly. Yeah, I'm not going to be bringing this camera back home, it's safe to assume.

I kicked him out just before midnight. I have an early boatride to the airport with the clients and am picking up my friends Luke and Charlene who are coming in for a week. Yay!

Tuesday 1 March – On the Mainland

In consulting with Nan about the clients' propensity for over drinking we had already decided earlier in the week that would cancel the prosecco tour that had originally been planned for today. In the winter there isn't much to see at any winery except for casks and dormant vines. The clients had already been informed of it, and we were taking this day as a make-up for the tour of Verona and Padova on the mainland, since I had pushed it in re-arranging days 1 and 2.

Verona is the most intact Roman city in the north of Italy. The Arena there is actually more complete than the Colosseum in Rome and is still used for concerts and the outdoor opera festival held every summer. We toured the outdoor piazzas of Erbe and Dante, the Palazzo de Comune, the Scalieri tombs, Juliet's house and the churches of San Zeno and San Fermo before heading over to Padova.

Lunch was the first stop and we ate at Osteria dei Fabbri, then on to the outdoor piazzas and the Palazzo della Ragione and the Oratio di San Gregorio. It was another round of churches as well: Basilica di Santa Giustina, the Scrovegni Chapel and of course the Basilica di San Antonio di Padova. I lit candles for Mamma and put up a prayer message for the nuns to pray for my sister-in-law's continuing recovery from cancer. I may not have all the religious faith a person should had, but it isn't beyond me to ask those who have full belief to help out my loved ones. I can only send my good thoughts and energies; these people live to pray for others. We'll take miracles any way we can get them, won't we?

Everyone was completely knackered by the time we boarded the train to return to Venice, myself included. Although we tired, had reservations at Paradiso, which is a reservation not to be missed. Giordano has the best seafood restaurant in a city filled with seafood. Giordano does not disappoint, ever. We rode the vap back to our stop at Ca'Rezzonico, floating on a food cloud and I bid them goodnight.

I am so happy this tour is almost done. One more full day. I can do this.

Monday 28 February – Pranzo con la Contessa e Vino con Nan

In the morning I said goodbye to Jamie by walking her up to the train station at 8AM and took the vaporetto back to collect the clients. We have a cooking lesson today that I am especially excited for, in a location I have dreamed about seeing.

Contessa Enrica Rocca-Nani is a real live aristocrat (from not one, but two ancient Venetian families) who gives cooking lessons both in Venice and London. I've seen a few shows featuring her and she is a vibrant lovely woman. In person, even more so. In Venice she gives her demonstrations from her family's palazzo in the Dorsoduro section of town, not far from my place and where the clients are staying.

We met the Contessa, who insists we call her Enrica, at Campo San Barnaba and we made our way to the Rialto markets to select our ingredients for the dishes we would be preparing. She never has a menu in mind before she arrives at the markets, because she only cooks with what they have on-hand in season to offer. Only the freshest seafood items, the catch of the day. I kept looking at the stalls with the live eels hoping that we didn't end up using them. I have no doubt I would never be using a recipe calling for eels. As we walked along and she selected items of vegetables and fish she came up with the plan. The menu for the day:

grilled calamari
seafood linguine with shrimp, mussels & calamari
seafood risotto with mushrooms
roast duck with pork & ginger
pan fried peppers
pork spareribs
tiramisu (she has the makings for this already in the kitchen)

Rialto Fish Market photos:











Interestingly enough, she doesn't use arborio rice for the risotto, preferring to always make it with “carnaroli” rice instead. I've never heard of this deviation. I don't think I've ever seen carnaroli rice at home either, so I may just have to stick with arborio. I didn't really see a difference upon eating it, but I was in heaven with the flavor if it anyway so I don't think it truly matters, as long as one pays attention to the absorption rate and uses good stock for it.

I'm not a huge fan of duck but this was amazing. I may never make it on my own, but will certainly use the same techniques and ingredients with chicken instead.

What a feast!

After the lesson the clients had a few hours for a break and then we would meet up with Nan Goodstone for a wine lesson. Nan is an American ex-pat living and working in Venice and is one of a few foreign-born women sommoliers. I came to know her online as I had Diana in Florence, through a travel-based website and posting board I frequent. I met her in person last October when a great gathering of SlowTrav people came to Venice. She was kind enough to give us a lesson then and I hosted the event in the house for eighteen people. I was excited to see that the home office contracts with her when I received itinerary info months ago and had been in contact with her through email. I love that people I know are so well-respected and used by the tour operator I work for.

I did email her after the debacle of the first day with these folks, to let her know that there was a possibility of over-drinking. She had said not to worry – she had been a corporate trainer for many years prior to coming here to live her dream, so she was worried about keeping everyone in hand. I suppose when you work with alcohol part of the job is gauging your audience constantly. The clients behaved and seemed to take in all Nan's imparted knowledge.

After another late afternoon break I led the clients to Hostaria da Franz for dinner. It had been a day full of luxurious food and wine and this was no exception. I can't do this every day. I was stuffed to the gills!

The clients wanted to take a nighttime vap ride, so I left them off at San Marco and made my way to The Consulate to make an appearance and say hello before toddling off to bed.

Sunday 27 February – Volo dell' Angelo

Today was a Free Day for me, since the clients were sleeping in. The Masquerade Ball ended at 3AM and knowing these folks they probably partied it up afterward at the apartment until the sun came up. I took advantage of the free time to spend the day with Jamie and show her around the city. No charge!

We went to Mass at San Marco. Neither of us are Catholic, but it's the best way to see the inside and the mosaics of the Basilica and she hadn't been there yet. I had text messaged Marco the night before that we would be going to the 8am services if he wanted to join us. I presumed with his overburdened schedule that he would either be at work already or sleeping. Lo and behold he scooted in a few minutes before the services began and took a seat next to me.

It becomes very hard for me to focus when I am sitting in San Marco because of the shimmering interiors. Trying to fathom how many pieces are contained in these mosaics makes my head spin. I have no idea what the priest was sermonizing about and glancing at Jamie she was in the same headspace as I was. The first time is overwhelming, but I've been there dozens of times and still get squishy inside. I glanced in the other direction at Marco, who was sort of dozing off. If he started to snore I vowed to pinch him.

After Mass I introduced my two companions and we went outside over to have a coffee. Marco drank his fast and headed off to work at the Europa. Jamie and I caught the vaporetto and went to ascend the belltower across the bacino at San Giorgio for aerial views of the Doge's Palace, San Marco and the Campanile. There were already lots of the fantasie-costumed folks out having their photocalls for the foreign press.

We went souvenir shopping for Jamie and I found an amazing mask for myself. Delicate black lace stiffened and shaped. It's beautiful and all mine now.

Just before noon we crowded into the Piazza San Marco with thousands of others to watch Il Volo dell'Angelo, the flight of the angel. A local celebrity is dressed as an angel of peace and descends from the top of the Campanile belltower on wires to the Grand Foyer stage, throwing flower petals to the crowd below.

We stopped in at the Dona Onesta for a bite to eat and the owner sat with us for lunch. He kept bringing additional dishes out from the kitchen for us to try a bite of. One of the servers there, Mussa, is very serious and dour every time I come in but apparently he really liked Jamie. He smiled and made jokes with her, which I have never seen him do. She inquired about the Oscar statue on the top of the bar hutch. I've seen it there for about two years, and since it has a small plaque reading “Al Miglior Papa” - To The Best Father – I just assumed Safwat had received it from his daughter. But everyone said they didn't know where it came from. Someone had apparently left it there after a meal and they put it up there, waiting for it to be claimed and it never was. Mussa presented Jamie with the Oscar “You take this home with you to remember me.” We laughed all afternoon.

It began raining on our way home. I caught up on correspondence while she took a nap. We prepared dinner together of minestrone soup and tortellini in brodo. The rain had let up by 8pm so we went out for a walk and a vaporetto ride to look at the lights of the palazzi on the Grand Canal.

It was a nice end to a very relaxed day.

Saturday 26 February – Masquerades and Music

I made breakfast for myself and Jamie and headed out for the clients' apartment. Jamie had my kindle which is loaded with tour books from TimeOut and Rick Steves, and I had loaded up her iPod with Rick Steves' iTunes selections of his audio tours of sites in the city. She was set up with things to see all day which would keep her busy. I was going to be able to meet up with her in the afternoon. The clients were going to be going to a masquerade ball in the evening so I would be free to have dinner and visit the events in the Piazza with her.

I had scheduled an appointment at 10AM for the clients to visit an atelier to be fitted for costume rentals for the masked ball and dinner gala that night. I met them at the apartment and we went by vaporetto up to the salon of the costume shop “TragiComica” in San Polo. They were all fitted for gear and masks and I put it all on the credit card, as expected. The costumes were to be delivered in four hours to their apartment, so I assessed how much time I had for a short tour and lunch and told them they needed to be at their flat. Since they were not at a hotel, there was no front desk or concierge to handle it the delivery if they weren't there. They agreed that after lunch they would go and wait for the packages to be delivered.

From the website of the atelier, the following costumes were selected:

Uomo Arlecchino and Dama Arlecchina for one couple:





Uomo Valmont and Dama Valmont for another couple:





Uomo Johann and Dama Bassano for the third couple:







Masks for all and wigs for the ladies and the men (save for the male Arlecchino) were also selected. 1600 Euros later.... plus the 1800 Euros already spent for the tickets to the gala dinner and masquerade ball at the Danieli hotel. And then factor in the conversion rate to US dollars. Good Lawd.... I have other ways to spend my hard earned cash. But it has already been factored in to their tour package. They've paid for it before I showed up. Let's just say that in general, fun at Carnevale can be had for much less than these prices. I almost wish I had lugged the extra thirty pounds of my own costume so I could witness the spectacle but I am relieved that I didn't. While watching the ladies try on various costumes I could see that mine really did measure up quality wise, but all in all it just is not worth the hassle. I'll save it for Renaissance Faire when I can spend my time having a lot more fun with my friends.

We had lunch nearby at Alla Rivetta, a traditional Venetian trattoria. Everyone behaved and stayed within the expected alcohol consumption. Make no mistake, I am not a teetotaller by any stretch; I only want to be able to perform my duties as expected. Do what you want on your own time, people.

I walked them back to their flat and told them I would return at 7:30 to pick them up and escort them to the Masquerade Ball. I gave them the option of going by private taxi or on the vaporetto and they said they wanted to go by vap. They are very excited about showing off the costumes as much as possible. They are paying for them, why not? I asked if they wanted to go a little earlier, so they could promenade through Piazza San Marco beforehand as well. They were jazzed about that idea and we agreed I would come get them at 6:30 instead. We would walk them through the Piazza amongst the crowd in the Grand Foyer where they would likely have lots of photos taken by complete strangers and professional photographers and then into the Danieli hotel where they would dine, drink and dance the night away. The guys were slightly apprehensive about the historical dancing, but I assured them that they would be led by others in how to minuet. It isn't difficult at all. Basically, prance and put your arm up to let the lady spin, you;ll be just fine. You aren't the only people who will be doing this first time. No worries. Everyone was really psyched up for the evening ahead.

I met up with Jamie at the house. We made the plan that she would tag along while I escorted the clients in the Piazza and to the Danieli. Then we'd go grab dinner nearby and come back to watch the costumed guests arrive and visit my friend Tiziano while he plays in the piano bar at the hotel. I luuurve Tiziano and have had the opportunity to sing with him at various hotels and locations in the city. We have a set we worked out five or six years ago and he lets me sit beside him as we duet. I texted him to tell him I would be at the Danieli later after sending my clients to the Ball. He messaged back that he was mad at me that I haven't visited him already at the Danieli. Don't be mad Tizi, I've been bizzy! He was joking, no worries, and told me he couldn't wait to see me.

I met the clients at their apartment and Jamie had gone ahead to the vaporetto to wait for us. I let the clients know that I had a friend in tow, so don't think we have a stalker. They walked out in their rented finery and had to stop every few minutes for someone to take a photo of them. They were having a great time. The vaporetto was crowded but people made way for them. The public must be able to recognize that these costumes cost a pretty penny whether they are yours or someone else's so they keep a wide berth to as not cause damage in any way.

The Piazza San Marco was very crowded. There is a large stage set up which is different from years past; it is designed to look like the Fenice Opera House stage, with box seats on either side stacked upon another. It is gorgeous. People can purchase VIP passes to sit in the boxes for the day to have a ringside seat. It's pretty cool. There was music blaring, many people in costume and roaming performers in the crowd. Lots of children, lots of dancing.

My peeps were having lots of photos taken of them and clearly enjoying themselves. Jamie told me she was really surprised and happy to see what a family atmosphere there was, since it isn't really the case in New Orleans. I told her that later in the evening it would change a bit, while there weren't ladies lifting their shirts for beads, there are usually scads of inebriated folks who get a little sketchy as the night wears on.

The group made the way to the Danieli lobby. I bid them adieu for the night as they checked in for their event. It was just before 8 so Jamie and I left to go grab something to eat. We walked down the Riva degli Schiavoni two bridges to the east and found a small hostaria to settle into. We had a simple meal, just some pasta for me and a giant bowl of mussels for her. Made it back to the Danieli a little after 9 and into the lounge to hear Tiziano's dulcet tones. When he finished the song he was playing I went over the piano to say hello. He told me I had ten minutes to warm up before he expected me sitting beside him. Goofball.

Before we had a chance to order a glass of wine from anyone we were presented with one. I looked back at Tiziano and he made a face. Then he mouthed “Ten minutes – drink that!” I guess I would be singing for my drink after all. I let a few songs go by and then I did go sit with him to sing four songs: James Taylor's “You've Got A Friend”, Stevie Wonder's “You Are the Sunshine of My Life”, Elton John's “Your Song” and Ray Charles' “You Don't Know Me” which I suppose is now turning in my signature. He knows I love that song. I was done after that and went back to finish my drink. Jamie and I left soon after, danced our way through the Piazza, stopped in at “my consulate” to say hello to Aldo and then home!

Friday 25 February – Making New Friends of All Kinds

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.

Wednesday 23 February – So Domestic

We ate the other half of yesterday's frittata and I mapped out another day of walking routes for Jullion. He would essentially be making a figure-8 or infinity symbol by heading over to Piazza San Marco and making his way down toward the Arsenale to the Naval Museum and into the Giardini at the southeast end of the city, the tail of fish-shaped city. Coming back he would follow the northside of the city, stopping at San Francesco delle Vigne and the Basilica of SS Giovanni e Paolo (but no George and Ringo...) across the Rialto and to the Santa Croce churches of S. Giacomo dell' Orio, S. Nicolo da Tolentino and back to Dorsoduro to S. Pantalon. That should keep him busy for a few hours.

I made my way to Giudecca to escort Mamma to church while her son slept off the night shift. We went shopping to restock the fridge then she did some mending while I read on my kindle. I started a pot of puttanesca sauce for pasta at lunch and put together a chicken caesar-type salad for us. Marco got up and got ready to go to work, wolfing down the meal and stumbling out the door. I'm glad I am able to spend time with Mamma since he's pretty much working around the clock until after Carnevale finishes in two weeks. He wasn't even going to be able to catch a nap later on: working 1 to 9 at the Europa and then 10 to 6am at the Centauro for someone else. At least at the Centauro he would have the opportunity to grab a few winks on the cot in the office after the guests came back for the evening. Hopefully. What a crap situation other people always leave for him.

I helped Mamma finish the laundry by ironing, as she feels everything must be starched in her world. This is at odds with the fact that everyone must use a lot of fabric softener because the water in Venice is very hard – you also have to add “anti-calcare” powders to the machine to prevent calcium deposits causing it to break. So we add softeners and then starch the hell out of things? I'm surprised they don't walk around constantly scratching themselves. I'm such a fan of softer fabrics and comfy knits. I don't like to buy clothes where I would need to iron or starch because quite frankly, I'm lazy, but I can't get away from using fabric softener here as much as I don't like it. At least the softener I have at my house isn't overly perfumed.

Made way back across the water to Dorsoduro and picked up a few more items at the store for the meal tonight. Me and four guys for dinner, how lucky am I? The menu is an marinaded antipasto mix, roasted butternut squash soup, prosciutto-wrapped florentine chicken and my wilted balsamic spinach salad. Lots of flavors and amazing smells in my kitchen.

Jullion set the table and the guests arrived to eat at 6:30, which is on the early side of dinner over here, but we wanted them to be able to get back to the restaurant for the remainder of their dinner service. They brought two bottles of wine and a big dish of tiramisu. So full of yum! They were making the happy mouth noises of people who were definitely enjoying themselves so I was happy. Safwat asked me to share the recipe for the soup so I wrote it down for him, of course in cups and tablespoons and not grams and liters. He's a smart man so he can figure out conversions. They went on their way and were all back at the Dona Onesta by 8pm. Success!

Jullion and I went out for a walk to Campo Santa Margherita as a last hurrah for him. He was flying out in the morning. We stopped at a cafe and had a couple of beers while listening to busking musicians play in the square. I would be starting a new tour tomorrow so I needed to get a full night of rest.

Thursday 24 February – Out of Control

I said goodbye to my pocket pal Jullion and he was on his way to the airport at 5:30 am. I followed a little later, and was at the airport to pick up my new clients for their arrival at 9:30 am. It's six people from the New Orleans; three couples. One of them had requested in their dossier to have a car drive them from the airport stating she was afraid of a taxi boat through the lagoon. I definitely need to feel this person out on their comfort level. A boat of some kind will need to be taken at some point, unless they planned on walking 100% of the time, and considering they had requested a day of touring the outlaying islands of Murano, Burano and Torcello I have to figure out what the issue is. I will presume for the time-being that they didn't want to get off a plane and head straight into a small boat for the 30 minute jaunt across the waters. Who knows? As for now, we're taking two land-cabs to get us to Piazzale Roma. I asked which one them had the aversion to water and got into their taxi so we could discuss a gameplan.

It turns out she is a bad flyer and knew she would be taking anti-anxiety and anti-nausea meds for the flight, and didn't want to get into a boat directly after. So I was kind of correct in my assumption. They had obviously been drinking on the plane as long as possible, you could still smell it. That or they were dousing themselves with it as a cologne. I was getting morning breath & booze fumes. Yay.

We arrived at Piazzale Roma and I presented them all with vaporetto passes, as they were all okay with the public transit idea. The bad flyer had taken a look at the large vap boats and declared she would be okay, which was a relief to me. I had arranged for a “trasbaggagli” company to meet us and transport their baggage at the apartment they had rented, so they wouldn't be lugging it on the vap and taking up space like all the tourists usually do – eight bags makes a big footprint on the deck of an already crowded waterbus. They are renting a luxury penthouse palazzo apartment near Ca'Rezzonico, which is the same stop I walk from when taking the Grand Canal line. They are about five minutes away from my house and only one bridge between us. I measure walking distances in terms of how many bridges over here.

The agent for the rental service met us at their place, which is oh-my-goodness-gorgeous. I have always wanted to see one of these palazzo apartments from the inside. It's in the Palazzo Loredan dell' Ambasciatore, one of the very decorative 15th century buildings facing onto the Grand Canal. This too can be yours for the low price of 4,400 Euros a week and a 1,000 Euro damage/security deposit. Whew.

Here's some history on the palazzo and some photos:
http://viewsonvenice.blogspot.com/

After being shown the amenities of the place, the agent departed and I suggested I would come back for them in an hour so they could unpack and freshen up a bit. It was agreed upon and as I left they were opening the welcome bottles of prosecco and wine, at 10:30 am.

We were scheduled to take a walk through the west side of town and have lunch, then a few hours of break and the late afternoon tour of Piazza San Marco with the Campanile, the Basilica and the Secret Itinerary tour of the Doge's Palace.

Arriving at 11:30, it was plain to see they had clearly been enjoying the wine. And had moved onto the liquor in the bar of the apartment. I decided it was more important to get some food in their stomachs, so while we did walk through the streets in the Dorsoduro and San Polo sestieres, we did not stop off for tours of the Frari church or the Scuola San Rocco since they were already a little too sauced and not capable of using their “inside voices.” We had lunch at Alla Zucca and they polished of the “allotted amount” of two bottles of wine before the main course came, and moved on to stiffer well drinks. I had explained the expectation that the tour included two bottles at meals for the table, and they were fine with creating a separate check for the bar bill they would pay directly. I however wasn't so quick to be happy with the arrangement; just because you agree to pay doesn't mean you're going to be so much fun to deal with the rest of the day and I have a schedule to maintain as part of the contracted itinerary. At this rate of drinking, it was obvious we weren't going to be taking in the sights after lunch that I passed over on the way to fill their stomachs and dry them out a bit.

I got them back to their apartment for an afternoon break. Perhaps a nap would sober them up and get them in gear for actual sightseeing. We had a reservation for 5:00 for the Doge's Palace that we really needed to keep. I would return for them at 3:30. When I did, I was met with groggy, bleary-eyed people, those of them that were not passed out. The drinking had continued after they returned to the flat.

I scrapped the afternoon touring plans and told them I would return at 7pm to take them to dinner. We had a reservation at 8pm at Da Fiore, and I was concerned that to screw it up would be detrimental to the relationship of the restaurant and the tour company.

I'm all for having a good time on vacation, but what is the point of drinking to the point of oblivion that you can't go on the scheduled outings with the private guide you are paying for? I was already tired of these antics, but wanted to give the benefit of the doubt that it was “first day settling in” kinks that would work themselves out.

I called the ticket office line for the Doge's Palace and pushed the reservation for the next day. This is why I have to be able to think on my feet and have contingencies. Instead of going to the mainland tomorrow to visit Padova and Verona, we would do everything we should have done on the first day.

At 7pm I was there to pick them up, but they weren't ready. I decided not to leave and return again, and thought it would be more advantageous to be present and keep an eye on the clock with them. At least they were awake. However some took a longer amount of time than others and we didn't actually get out of the apartment until after 8pm, dashing the reservation. I called and found they had given our table to someone else, apologized and told the owner that we had people who weren't feeling well. He didn't sound angry or miffed, so I think I;'m okay for making reservations in the future, and although inside I was seething I was outwardly pleasant. How would they have noticed anyway? They were all still (or again) crocked.

Ugh

I explained that we had lost our reservation and they said they were okay with going somewhere more casual, for me to pick a place I like to go to – more of a locals' favorite flavor. I took them to the Dona Onesta, which immediately turned into a mistake.

These folks were starting to try my patience in a major way. The drinking comes with loud voices, and poor choices in the topics of conversation in public places and mixed company. They were a group of loud, boorish, ill-behaved people, and I was quite embarrassed to be with them. I just kept apologizing with my eyes to the staff and the owner, and stepped into the kitchen to talk with Safwat at one point. He told me not to worry about it one bit, everything will be fine. No problems, no problems Kristina. When dessert had been served, the check came immediately. Usually there's the push for coffee, after dinner drinks, invitations to linger as long as you'd like – not this time. Here's the check people. We gotta go...

As I bent under the tablecloth to reach my purse under the table, there was a hand cupping my left breast. One of the “gentlemen” had his hand upturned and I guess my chest just fell into it. Yeah, we'll go with that explanation, considering his wife was sitting right next to him and didn't see it happening. I didn't freak out, but I did look him straight in the face so that he knew I wasn't absolutely cool with it. I didn't feel I needed to shriek or start a fuss. He was the most blitzed in the group anyway, who knows if he knew what he was doing? Another thing to note, and discuss later on consultation call to Frank when I got back to my house.

What a horrible day. Frustrating.

And still they wanted to whoop it up. We parted at Campo Santa Margherita, where they wanted to hit a couple of the bars and have more cocktails. I told them I would be back at their place at 9AM – please all be dressed and ready to go because we have a full day to make up. They nodded and said they'd be ready and have a great night, blah blah blah. I'm sure they think I'm a stick in the mud and a dour tight-ass, but I'm just trying to remain professional. I wasn't unpleasant at all, but I'm not being as effusively engaging as I usually am with groups. I disengaged emotionally earlier in the afternoon when they were all too hungover and passed out to go touring.

Take some responsibility for yourselves, you bunch of drunks.

I got home and called Frank, who advised me to document everything in an email to the travel consultant who had set up the tour for them and created their dossier. There is definitely verbiage in the contract about behaving within normal limits while on tour, along with expectations of being able to provide services and itineraries they have agreed to, and barring emergency situations of illness or accident, it is expected that the tour leader should be able to provide the tour agreed to without hindrance.

So I'm going to need to have a “come to Jesus” talk with them on arrival, reiterating what they have already agreed to and letting them know that I will not be deviating from plans for them any longer. Smiles, everyone, smiles, but be firm...

Oh goody.

Tuesday 22 February – The One Where the Octogenarian Meets the Drag Queens

Jullion and I had a beautiful breakfast of ham and mushroom frittata. I mapped out a few walking routes for him and told him I'd meet him back at the house in the afternoon. He would set out for the Rialto area and cross over the Grand Canal to see the Ghetto and Cannaregio, then onward to Piazza San Marco before coming back by way of the Accademia bridge. I was going to spend the day with Mamma and meet him back to prepare dinner.

I brought the computer with me, since she was so interested before in being able to watch my regular television programs from so far away. Went to Mass first of course. We came back to the house and she asked what we were going to see today. Feeling “cattiva” (naughty) I queued up an episode of “RuPaul's Drag Race” to see how she'd take it. That's what I'm here for – expanding horizons.

She was a hoot to watch it with. The challenge for the “ladies” was to have a mock up of a morning show with news, a weathergirl, gossip report and a roving reporter. To be honest, the Queens didn't look much different than most presenters on Italian television – over the top outfits and makeup an inch thick. Mamma took it in stride and kept remarking on how glamoroso they all were, even though she was seeing edits of them putting all makeup on and padding themselves up to female form, she wasn't repulsed by the obvious gayness of it all. She's way ahead of that neanderthal Massimo on couchsurfing... Who would have ever thought I would be exposing an octogenarian to such things? I was sure that I'd hear from Marco about this later, but we had a great time in the mean time.

I made a pot of minestrone soup for us and we had panini with pears and fontina cheese to go with it. Marco came home from work as I was getting ready to leave. He grumbled hello (apparently had a hectic day at work) and went to his room to lay down for a nap before heading to a second shift at a sister hotel in the place of some person not able to work that night. Poor guy. There was plenty of soup for him for when he woke up and it's guaranteed that Mamma would fuss over him with a protein-filled entree of some kind before he went off again for the night. She said he's been pretty quiet since his final blow-out with Donatella. I had decided to keep my distance in case he was feeling residual anger toward me pointing out the obvious that she was controlling and in the wrong where his mother's friendships are concerned.

Back at the house that night Jullion and I had a huge meal of pesto penne and chicken with plenty of wine and conversation. He insisted on taking me out somewhere for dessert. Since he hadn't had any gelato yet during his trip to Italy we struck out for Campo Santa Margherita to see if Gelateria del Doge (my favorite place) was open. It wasn't so we opted to go to the Dona Onesta for tiramisu instead. We were greeted by Safwat the owner and given generous helpings of tiramisu for him and pannacotta with berries for me. Too delicious.

There was a large crowd adjoined tables - 18 diners in total - who were part of a college program of some sort. We eavesdropped on their conversations and someone leaned over and asked me if I could translate and explain some of the menu items for them, since my familiarity with the staff made it seem I was a regular. I helped out, but of course.

During my conversations with Ali and Mussa, the servers and Safwat, we kept coming back to the idea of me cooking for them sometime. I have had meals there so many times and they have heard me say how much I like to cook, it's the main reason I always rent apartments in Venice. I offered halfheartedly that I would cook for them whenever they found a convenient time – but one of them is always working at the restaurant. We set a date, for the next night, when Safwat's brother would be able to watch the dining area for a little while. Wow – turnabout – I would cook for the people who serve me dinner. No pressure.

Jullion left with the crowd of college kids to hang out for a while in Campo Santa Margherita and I went back to the house. He rang the bell just before midnight, but it wasn't a big deal, I was still fully awake. He had a lot of fun with them and had even sparked up a little love connection. Good for him!