Off to that mysterious place today, hoping to get lost once or twice. . .
Sono arrivata. . . . .
I made it to the hotel, stupidly needing to change vaporetti 3x. What should have been a 20 minute ride, was over and hour, and. . . I missed lunchtime, everywhere but the in simplest panini bars. p.s. the panini bars here use a really strange WonderBread type pane for their sandwiches, the insides are Italian, but the bread is pure Publix.
I really, really like the Venetians because they are good for teaching my ego to calm down. They really don't care if you are finding their city to your satisfaction, and in fact, I would myself go nuts with all the tourists. Firenze has, for me, a better balance of tourists to locals, but here, even in the gloom of January, tourists are oppressively everywhere. Many, many more Americans here than in Firenze, along with Germans, English, French, Japanese, Spanish, you name it, they're here. The Venetians hate the tourists, but their lives are linked to them. It's an ICK situation, but easily overlooked if you . . . overlook it. My sympathies lie with the Venetians.
The sun that was promised did not materialize, and I realize that to properly photograph this city will take more than a quick visit. Perhaps in another life. . .
I walked to the Peggy Guggenheim museum and channeled her a bit there, could feel her presence in a disdainful, glad-I'm-gone sort of way. I had some problems with wondering how much of the collection has been co-opted by the Guggenheim folks, and how much of it is hers. It had a very New York-y feel and mostly Americans (again!) there. I did spend some lovely moments on her patio, overlooking the Grand Canal.
Tonight I am going to a very tucked-away trattoria I found while wandering, for dinner. The menu alla finestra is completely in Italian and that's a good sign. . . .
They are prepared for flooding here, to a degree I've not seen before. First of all, the locals are the ones wearing Wellies, and the guy from Jersey is easily identifiable in his suede loafers. Then, although not up at the moment, everywhere are the 'planks' and risers at the ready for when the tides come in, and the streets are covered with water. My hotel issues rubber boots for these times and tells you in it's brochure, "don't worry" (be happy). I guess the city really is sinking, which gives it even more atmosphere, as if it needed it.