Because of the
time change we were awake at 6 a.m. We had been told that since we would
probably get up early that we might as well watch a sunrise. So, Greg and I threw
on some clothes and off we went. As we walked along the Grand Canal, it dawned
on me (no pun intended) that we were on the wrong side of the island to see the
sunrise. It was still a nice walk. 
We met Pat and
Lou at 8:30 a.m. for the free breakfast in the hotel that we would be eating
for the next five mornings. It consisted of canned fruit salad with fresh
apples mixed in, canned prunes, sliced cheese and ham, a variety of breads and
pastry, yogurt, cereal and granola, lukewarm milk and watered down juices.
There was a lady who would make you a specialty coffee to order.
When you take a
Rick Steves’ Tour they send you a Rick Steves’ backpack and a Rick Steves’
money belt. I am not a backpack kind of person, so I bought a Rick Steves’
shoulder bag. It was very lightweight and comfortable. I should know; I
practiced wearing it for two weeks before we left. They strongly advised us to
not bring a purse or wallet and to keep your passport, credit cards and Euros
in your money belt. Many of our friends and family told us about having had
their wallets stolen by roving bands of gypsies and/or children. Before we left,
I had joked that if anyone touched me, I would drop to the ground and curl up
in the fetal position clutching my Rick Steves’ bag securely. I only did that
once, but it was for a photo op. I chose to wear the money belt under my
clothes. I kept some spending money in the buttoned pockets of my cargo pants
so that I would not have to “shove my hand down my pants” every time I wanted a
Coke Light. I will leave you to imagine how the others in our group managed
their money. 
The day before I
had dutifully packed my shoulder bag and schlepped it along, but I hate
carrying things; so I loaded my pockets instead. My typical ensemble included
my sun hat with a large brim that made me look like Madeline from the
children’s book, a lightweight short sleeve shirt so I was appropriately
covered if we went into a church, Capri pants and comfortable sneakers. All my
pants had extra pockets in order to hold my camera that I kept on a tether
hooked to my belt loop, an extra camera battery, some money for the day, maps,
and a container of Ibuprofen. Eventually, I would also carry the radio
transmitter and earpiece that we used during the guided tours. Finally, in
another side pocket, I carried a plastic figure of a knight that one of my
students asked me to take along and include in some photos for her collection.
Toss in my money belt, and I was quite a sight. I came to Italy to be practical,
not fashionable.
There was one
thing that I missed during the trip…my cell phone. I found out early on that my
specific phone would not be able to make or receive calls or text messages, but
that I could use Wi-Fi, which I only found in the lobby of the first two hotels
and not at all in Rome; so I was able to check my email. I did not expect to be
standing in line at the Vatican playing Angry Birds or Sudoku, but I was
disappointed that I couldn’t use an app to translate Italian or use a map with
GPS. Greg bought an iPhone 4S, which would work, and a month of an international
phone package. Lou already had an iPhone, so we could call or text family and,
if needed, each couple.
First thing this
morning, Greg stopped at the ATM down the street. The bank was worth
mentioning. Like It was very small, as are most stores in Venice, and had two
entrances; one was a regular door and the other looked like an air lock from
Star Trek. You would step into a round tube and the curved door would close,
encasing you and then the curved door on the other side would open to let you
enter the bank. We figured it was for bank robbers, that the tellers could lock
the regular door and then catch the robber in the tube. 
We walked down
to the canal and bought all-day tickets for the Vaparetto and got on one
heading to the island of Murano. This island is famous for making glass. It
took a long time to get there but we saw some nice sights along the way. Once
we landed, Lou found a pay toilet for 1.50 Euro. Later our guide informed us
that it was cheaper to buy a coffee at the counter of a bar for less than 1 Euro
and then use their bathrooms. We never paid for a bathroom again.
There were a
number of glass blowing factories and stores on the island. There was a man at
the dock hawking a free glass-blowing demonstration down the street. We happily
passed up the place that charged 3 Euro and were ushered into a very hot room
with benches to watch the workers create a glass elephant. Attached to the demo
area was an air-conditioned gift shop. They had a typical variety of glass
pieces on display, very touristy. While I was looking around, Pat and Lou
started chatting with the managers. Soon they were whispering and pointing at
us; they invited us to go to their “gallery” on the other side of the glass
blowing area. They said the gallery was “reserved” for special guests. 
Well, being a
huge fan of glass art and in the mood to purchase a unique souvenir, I was just
the type of sucker, uh, I mean customer, who they were looking for. The manager
was a young, smooth-talking, good-looking Italian man in a suit who was more
than happy to show me the artwork. Each room was filled with large, one-of-a-kind
pieces of glass, by specific, surely famous, glass artists, most of who were
retired and would never make glass like this again.
After looking
around, I settled on a square piece covered in silver with etchings of gondolas
and Venetian landscapes. The salesman seemed initially disappointed with my
choice, not expensive enough, I guess, but didn’t miss a beat and went right
into his hard sell. “Pay no attention to the extremely high prices,” he began. He
told me they set them high on purpose to increase their value to the general
public. But for me, he could give me “a very special price.” Magically, he
pulled out this enormous calculator, the kind with the really big buttons, and
produced a price that included insurance
and shipping directly to my door in
the US of A-- only 893 Euro. Wow, such a deal. He never even told me the
original price. Hmmm…I decided to look around some more. I then found a piece I
liked even better. Drum roll, please. This one was for me… “only” 3000 Euro. It
seems I have very good taste. Decisions, decisions…I told him that I would need
“to think” about it. We had time. “I could come back later.” His response…the
gallery would be closed. It seems it was now or never. “Never” sounded pretty
good. So we left.
But don’t worry,
right next door was another glass blowing showroom. Inside was another well-dressed
Italian guy with another giant calculator. He let us know that this area of his
store was just the “appetizer.” He motioned, “Come upstairs for the entrées.”
For some reason, Greg decided to wait outside, while we were escorted upstairs.
I found some of the same kinds of pieces that the first gallery had, and for
less money, weird?! At this point even Pat and Lou were starting to get sucked
in, looking at really cool chandeliers for their hallway. Happily, we all managed
to break his spell and leave empty-handed. 
It seems that much of the “Murano Glass” sold in the tourist shops is counterfeit, and actually made in China. But who knows, maybe the “Genuine Murano glass” sticker they put on the fake glass was made in Murano. At this point, I didn’t know who to trust and ended up not purchasing the 600 Euro glass piece that I had picked out. I went into a few more shops to browse on our way to the boat dock and then we were off to our next island, Burano.
Burano is a
small, quaint island where each building has been painted a different bright
solid color. It is so beautiful. Everywhere you looked there was a photo
waiting to be taken.
Legend has it that the wives would each paint their house a
different color, so when their fisherman husbands returned from a late night of
drinking, they would be able to find their way home.
It was now 3:30
in the afternoon, and we still haven’t eaten lunch yet, so we were happy to find
a restaurant that was recommended in our Rick Steves’ guidebook. Lou and I split
an appetizer of mussels and clams and an entrée of spaghetti and more clams. We
shared a bottle of “still” water. The Italians are big on bottled water “with
gas,” like old-fashioned soda water. I personally don’t see the appeal. I still
felt like I never got enough to drink. The food was good and helped restore our
energy.
Since we were in
a nice restaurant and being smart travelers, Lou and I made sure to use their
bathrooms. This was to be my first European bathroom experience. In the women’s
restroom (I checked to make sure it wasn’t the men’s restroom by mistake),
there was a toilet, but there was no seat, just cold, nasty-looking porcelain. There
was also a hand held sprayer attached to the wall. I remember being confused by
what I found and just wandered back to the table unsure of what to do. Lou
offered to come and help me, but I thought, no, this would be something that I would
have to figure out on my own. It seems that Italians, and a lot of other people
in the world, SQUAT. Well, without going into details, I managed to make peace
with this fixture that I would encounter repeatedly throughout our trip. I
chose to ignore the sprayer. I guess at this point, I should mention that I
decided to take a photo of every bathroom that I used during our trip, mainly
to show my mother-in-law but also I thought it would make a bizarre album.
After lunch we
continued to explore the island, which is known for handmade lace. We found a store
that also included a really interesting lace museum.
After my glass buying
experience on the island of Murano, thankfully, I had no interest in buying
lace. Unfortunately, Pat and Lou did. It didn’t take long before the saleswoman
was showing them a 500 Euro handmade lace tablecloth. Suddenly, there was talk
of calling their daughter Claire to measure their dining room table. They
managed to break away from that store and move on to the next, where they found
a similar one for only195 Euro. By then, they managed to break the spell all
together and left empty handed.
In the end, I made
the best purchase on that island when I found a bakery. In my opinion, there were
way to many gelato stores and not enough bakeries in Italy. I bought a small chocolate
cannoli for 1 Euro. It was too crunchy, so I gave the rest to Greg. Then I
bought a rich, gooey, chocolate pastry, which turned out to be like a giant rum
ball. Uggh. Too disgusting, so I gave the rest to Pat. Undeterred, I moved on
to the final pastry, which I had bought--a Linzer Torte. This was my favorite.
I
think I discovered this type of cookie in Paris, on my trip 30 years ago, and they
have always seemed very European to me. In case you haven’t had one, they are
composed of two shortbread cookies with a layer of jam spread between them. The
top cookie has a hole in the middle for the jam to show through, and is then
dusted with powdered sugar on top. Please don’t think that I was indulging on
all this pastry alone; Pat, Lou and Greg were all too happy to join in.
On our trip back
to Venice, we decided to take a Vaporetto route that we thought looked shorter
than the one we took to the island. It was shorter, but unfortunately, the
closest stop to our hotel, was on the wrong side of the main canal where there was
no bridge. Thankfully, we could transfer at that dock to a boat that took us
across the canal. At this point, it was 8:15 p.m., and we headed back to the
hotel for a 45-minute rest before finding something for dinner. Unlike the Italians, we are not ones to
eat a late dinner, but I think with jetlag and the seven-hour time difference, our
stomachs had no idea what time it really was. 
We walked to a campo
nearby and picked a restaurant where we could sit outside and enjoy the
beautiful weather. I had a crepe filled with spinach, artichokes and ham, an
order of French fries, and two Coke Lights. It was interesting during our trip
to discover how many things we thought were Italian, but weren’t. For example,
they had bread and bottles of olive oil on the table, but it is not the custom
to dip the bread in the oil as we do in “Italian” restaurants in the states. I
am not fond of that custom either, so I asked for some butter for my bread, for
which they happily charged me 2 Euro. Pat was adventurous and got a local
favorite, cuttlefish. Wow, I just Googled it, and it is NOT a fish, but rather a
close neighbor to a squid. They make the dish with the cuttlefish ink as a
sauce. Lou tried it. She was thankful that it was nighttime and we couldn’t see
the ink she was sure was on her teeth. 
We walked in search of gelato, but at
11:15 p.m., it was too late. Back we went to the hotel, to bed.
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