Venice=possibly the worst memories ever
I'm exaggerating a little, but the trip did not start out good in Venice.
So we wake up and hurry to get downstairs to our american style breakfast, which isn't really all that american at all. Sure they have bacon, eggs, toast, and cereal.
BUT
Americans like sugar already in their cereal and shaped funny too, like colorful circles, letters, and treasure chest. They had corn flake puffs and some wanna be coco pebbles.
And just because bacon comes from the same place ham does, doesn't mean it has to be cooked the same. Yeah, the bacon was soft and soggy.
The toast was just one big crouton. I think me and Andrea should have gotten back there to cook. That would have been an American style breakfast, mmm good crunchy, fatty bacon.
They did however, have orange juice. Nice cold, out of the jug orange juice. None of that fresh squeezed crap. Andrea talked about taking it with her, then I said something like I wish I could just drink the whole jug, then Andrea mentioned how she wished she could just pour it on herself. That was a funny visual.
I was very graceful today. I dropped my spoon like 3 times at breakfast and dropped eggs on me, nice.
So we finish breakfast and go get on the train and go to Venice. Boring ride, I did learn my lines for the play though! yay for that.
When we get Venice, I try to get my suitcase from above me and it almost crumples me beneath it. Cool.
We get off the train and go to get on the Vaporetta (waterbus) and the guy at the ticket boot was a big jerk. The waterbus ride made me sick too, yay sea (more like floating down a river) sickness.
We FINALLY get to San Marco and as we are making our way to our hotel (we were already in a bad mood) we run into some steps that are actually a bridge (just make the bridge flat, come on) and try to lug our luggage up it. In the process, I run into people (europeans are RUDE) that make me even madder. What makes me the maddest is that no nice italian gentlemen try to HELP ME up the stairs. So here I am trying to carry a 40 pound bag up the stairs as I pass many strong men. Very cool guys.
I finally give up and just pull it up the stairs and stupid 12 euro suitcase I bought off the street broke. Great.
Even after people clearly saw that my bag was broken and I was literally dragging it through the streets of Venice they still just stared at me and stood in my way. One lady even yelled at me in italian because I was in her way. I simply yelled, "I'm freaking sorry!" I'm done with Europeans, get me some nice country southern hospitality.
One thing for sure though, everyone kept talking about falling in love with a beautiful italian guy. Yeah they're beautiful, tan, and dress better than I do; they're jerks.
Country boys may be pervs and drink alcohol like a fish, but at least they're gentlemen who help little women carry their bags.
I'm very happy with my skinny, v-neck tan line, blue eyed, gentleman of a boyfriend.
We had good American style tasting pizza and there is a Mickey D's down the road.
We continued exploring the streets of Venice and wanted to go on a gondola ride but it was 50 euro a person (yeah right). Instead we went to the Peggy Guggenheim museum which was cool. Picasso, Braque, Ernst, Miro, Tanguey, Calder, Pollock, Dali, and many others. It was a cool house too.
So then we went to find pigeons because I was still in a bad mood. They scared me half to death, check the facebook for those pictures. Finally I got courageous and held one. Then we went to get gelato so we could feed them ice cream cones. The pigeons made me feel better.
On the way to supper tonight, I held a stranger's hand for like 2 seconds. You know when you're walking and swinging your arms and you get a little too close to someone and your hands kinda fall into each other's? that definitely happened to me.
We have to go to an internet cafe to get internet, and our little venetian hotel is a hole in the wall and hot but it will do. I'm ready to get back to Rome, just because it means that I'm that much closer to getting home.
12 days in Italy knowing no one is a little too much.
I'll try to blog again tomorrow!
ciao ciao
Gabby
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