A Week In Italy: Day 1

The first day of the Italy excursion began with an early wake-up call. We left the house at 6 and embarked on a 5-hour drive to Venice. Through the Austrian alps and northeastern Italy, we drove. I tried to catch some shut-eye while blasting jazz music through my earbuds to counteract the constant jerking of the bus but had little success. Before crossing the border into Italy we stopped at a Resthaus – I finally figured out what they’re called – in Arnoldstein. The building sat at the bottom of some rather steep, majestic mountains. A view straight out of a painting. After swiftly crossing the border, we made a quick descent on Venice.

To get to Venice we paid a fee to park our bus on the outermost island. Once parked we deboarded – suitcases are allowed on the island but for convenience, we were advised to pack a small backpack for our short stay in Venice and pack our suitcases for the remainder of the trip. We walked to and got on a people mover that goes back and forth between the parking lot island, cruise terminal island, and the western edge of San Marco. Once on San Marco we acquired public transportation passes – boat taxis – and boarded a boat to float down the main canal towards our hotel. Hotel Ca’ Gottardi is a quaint little hotel separated between two buildings. We checked in and dropped our bags off in our rooms before grabbing lunch on our own.

For lunch, we ended up at the pizzeria on the bottom floor of our hotel, Pasqualino. While munching on a Diavolo pizza – tomato, mozzarella, and salami – and sipping on a strong espresso I found myself focusing on the new language I was being immersed in. I missed German. I had just gotten comfortable and confident in my ability to listen, understand, and speak German. Italian – a romance language – is a complete 180 and while I do know Spanish well, Italian is still a different language. Some phrases and verb conjugations are similar but for the most part, I found the language to be extremely unique – probably because I’d never heard Italian spoken in person before. The main island of San Marco is filled with enough tourism that most restaurants, retailers, and museum staff know English but even asking if they speak English is new to me. It’s not “Sprechen Sie Englisch?” But rather “Parla Inglese?” Language barriers suck. It was only day one and I already felt the survival instinct to pick up a Rick Steves Phrase booklet to learn Italian.

Following our brief interlude at lunch, we joined Lizzy – art and architecture connoisseur – for a walking tour of Venice. I can never keep up with this woman but in the hectic, tight alleyways of Venice, I found myself falling behind even more. First stopping at the Rialto Bridge and then ending in front of the Piazza San Marco we walked – more like jogged at her pace.

Traveling is a weird sensation. “I’ve seen this place so many times before in media, so how could I possibly be here right now?” It hit me for the first time on this day that I was in Europe. In fact, I’d been in Europe for over a month at this point but it never really sank in. Would it ever really sink in? I’ve daydreamed about these cities and countries for years and now here I am walking the Grand Canal on a sunny Friday afternoon in October.

The ginormous Piazza is enclosed by the St. Mark’s Basilica, Palazzo Ducale, Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, Campanile di San Marco, Museo Correr, Negozio Olivetti, Visita Alla Pala D’oro, and the Ospedale della Pietà - what a mouthfull. It’s quite the Palazzo let me say. It’s a bit overwhelming considering the grand size and intricate architecture - I think my eyes were overloading.

Entering the Basilica you must cover your shoulders and knees – Italy is extremely strict about religious dress codes. I had a cardigan to cover my shoulders but hadn’t been able to fit jeans into my backpack and it was a hot fall day, so I was wearing shorts. Turns out knees and thighs are a bit scandalous, so I borrowed the program directors’ scarf and wrapped it around myself like a sarong. She brought it to cover her knees but because she was wearing a nicer dress than my tank top and cargo shorts, she wasn’t chastised for propriety.

St. Mark’s Basilica was completed in 1092 and is known for its Italo-Byzantine style. The interior of the church is filled with detailed tile work – I’ve never taken so many pictures of tile before.

We intended to go to the Peggy Guggenheim Collection – a modern art gallery put together by an amazing woman – but apparently, you had to make a reservation in advance. Museums and landmarks in Europe vary vastly when it comes to tickets: at some, you have to purchase ahead of time for a specific entry time, and for others, you can just walk in and buy a ticket when you get there. With no museum in the plans, we wandered off until we came upon a quiet canal away from the hustle and bustle of the main tourist attractions: Canal Rio di San Trovasio. I grabbed a dark chocolate gelato and a Sprite from a small corner shop – Gelateria lo Squero – and parked myself on the edge of the canal in front of Chiesa di San Trovaso. The gelato melted instantly, causing me to appear like a toddler with a ring of chocolate outlining my lips. It dripped on my legs like a spotted Dalmatian, but I managed to keep it away from my white shirt.

Eventually, we wandered back to our hotel – with some assistance from Google maps despite her inability to keep up with our walking pace. The street our hotel resided on housed plenty of restaurants, so the music, conversation, and laughter poured through our shutters – along with the ravenous mosquitos. As we grew hungry, we turned to our trusty friend TripAdvisor who lead us to Vineria all’Amarone.

The walls were covered in bottles of wine and the atmosphere was lively – I really enjoy Venice’s overall ambiance but Venice at night is my cup of tea. Did you know Bellini’s originate from Venice? I didn’t. I ordered a Bellini because prosecco and I are best friends at this point. Potentially an odd pairing, I feasted upon their Tagliatelle Alla Bolognese. Perfect serving size and a perfect proportion between pasta and sauce. I left feeling rather content and full.

Walking back to the hotel I realized how much Venice contrasted with Salzburg. The geography, culture, and history are obviously different, but people eat at different times in Italy. Maybe it’s different depending on what region of Italy you’re in, but so far, I’ve noticed that people will wake and eat breakfast later and then eat dinner really late whereas Salzburg civilians wake up a bit earlier for breakfast and then eat an early dinner and are usually home by 6 - young nightlife is the only exception.

Step Count: 14,072 steps