venice 2012
Jul. 13th, 2012 05:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolI am back from Venice! First things first:
1. Marco Polo airport is the WORST DESIGNED AIRPORT IN HISTORY. Ever. It is IMPOSSIBLE to work out how to buy food and there is NO QUEUING SYSTEM and basically I loathe it.
2. I have been to Venice before. I got eaten alive that time. Having never had a reaction to insect bites, it was a disquieting experience. (Only other place to bite me was the ancient ruins in Rome. Nowhere else in Rome, I might add.) So this time, I insisted we took insect repellent. Failed to take into account possibility that a full day on the prosecco might result in forgetting to apply it. Massive great lump on thighs and and itchy foot have resulted.
Thus ends the public service announcements.
Other than that, Venice was AMAZING. It was the ultimate last minute decision. We both had this week off work, but we've been waiting on Richie hearing if he got a new job, which may have involved us moving house, possibly to an area that will not involve me having a job straight away. We have some savings, so we could cope (the new job would have paid enough for us to get away with it until I was working) but it would have negated doing anything with this week off. (Which we initially had to visit Richie's folks, but they were off to Tenerife. We're rubbish at this.)
Anyway, the job in question was being rubbish at letting Richie know if he had the job or not. "Look," I said one night. "If you don't get this job, we go away for a few days. Cornwall or something."
Except we only found out about it at 4.55pm on Friday. And the UK had all kinds of flooding on Thursday and Friday.
So on Saturday morning we found ourselves booking a very, very last minute trip to Venice. With some trepidation, it was to the same campsite I'd been to with Simon. WEIRD RIGHT, except they've updated it so we wouldn't be staying in a tent but in a private bungalow thing with a bathroom. Oh, and the flight over involved a five hour stopover at Gatwick. But hey, other than that is was reasonably cheap so we spent Saturday desperately working out how to get to Manchester airport, and getting a wee travel guide, and re-learning the little Italian I knew. And Sunday morning, we were off!
Manchester airport terminal 2 is hella boring, but does a decent breakfast. We were flying B.A. (SWISH RIGHT?) and I was pleasantly surprised to be given a free drink on my flight. Had I thought faster on my feet, I would have been after some wine.
We were changing at Gatwick, and had a five hour wait there. Fortunately, since our bags were all prepped and we were checked in, we were able to go and sit in the departure lounge, where we got a half-decent lunch and then wandered around looking for a drink. We debated going to the Wetherspoons, but it was heaving. I had a peek at the Jamie Oliver pub, of which I had read good things in the Guardian but the previous sentence put me off wanting to go there. Still, it had seats and we had lots of hours to kill.
Turns out it also does 100ml carafes of wine so I think you can guess where this story is going.
Thoroughly lubricated, we headed for our slightly late flight to Venice, which I spent next to an old Italian bloke who leaned across me, barged into my seat, and spent 2/3 of the flight sucking seeds from the sandwich out of his teeth. Oh god. It was hideous. I've never been so grateful to be off a plane, and I'm including that time I threw up on the way to Crete.
At Venice, I failed to do any kind of haggling in Italian and so enjoyed the most terrifying and expensive taxi journey ever. All those stereotypes about the taxi driver were true in that driver.
Still, we arrived and as reception was closed I sort of babbled at the nice security man who sorted us out with our wee bungalow. It had air conditioning, which was bliss, and two single beds we could push together. So, you know, all good!
The next day we woke up extremely early, because it turns out the wee bungalows was basically a semi-detached caravan and if anyone else even sneezed in the adjoining caravan the entire place banged and shook. Whoever was next door was getting up very, very early. FUN TIMES.
Dazed and confused, we tried to get the 9am bus to Venice, except it was full. So I took my chances with some tea (WHY OH WHY HOT MILK IN TEA WHY) and we sat in the rapidly increasing sunshine, trying to wake up a bit.
We arrived at Tronchetto, which is basically Venice's car park, and as per the advice of our guidebook picked up a 3-day vaporetto ticket, which you can get on the cheap if you'r 19-25. STILL THERE FOR THE NEXT MONTH, PEOPLE. The vaportetto is basically the bus, but being Venice it's a boat and takes you through the Grand Cancal and the lagoon; we ended up being fairly dependent on it, actually. We went for the stereotypical tourist option first, and headed to San Marco which was actually a good move, as most of the line for the basilica was in the shade, and the church itself was lovely and cool, as well as being bathed in gold and general wonderfulness. We then proceeded to wander around the backstreets, eating a panini in the corner of a cool square, and popping into St Stefano because, well, we could!
It was at this point we took advantage of the vaporetto, essentially enjoying a cruise on public transport, seeing all of the Grand Canal, stopping offnear the Rialto for some gelato and a big bottle of cold water which was possibly the best thing in the world. We then accidentally ended up at Lido, which wasn't really for us due to having no swimsuits on, but the sight over the lagoon was very worth it.
Back at San Marco (well, why not?) we had a drink, next to what seemed to an OAP glee club, with a random singalong. Still, it gave us enough energy to head for a cheaper area of town which felt more 'real', although the heat was definitely getting oppressive by this point. Ended up having a sort of touristy dinner, and finishing off the evening with a very expensive glass of wine by the Grand Canal. Still, it was the first time a waiter didn't take pity on me and switch to English. (I am okay at restaurant Italian, but if you go off the script in my head I panic and try to talk French. Richie just about had 'ciao' and grazi' by the end of the week, and one shoplady even enquired if he was French.) Plus, we were entertained by a distant accordian player who was, actually, surprisingly brilliant. I didn't even know you could play Mozart on the accordian. The sun set, and the clouds were lit up with lightening, which I've never seen before - at no point did it hit the ground, or have any thunder or rain, just constant flashes. Eerie.
Still, when we finally got back to the campsite the best thing in the world was a cold shower. And the fact that the room next door was empty, so actually got a good night's sleep!
We woke up much later the next morning, and spent the earlier part of the day by the pool at the campsite itself. What can I say, there's something lovely about swimming lazily in the sun. Also, the previous day had left me with a blister on the bottom of my foot, which was exactly as much fun as it sounds, so walking was going to be slower that day.
We headed back into Venice in the afternoon, checked out Isola de San Giorgio, or at least the church itself, which was surprisingly quiet for such a stunning piece of architecture. Seriously, I can't push people to go and see it enough; the building is lovely, there's Tintorettos, and it's on the edge of the lagoon.
We bumbled around the museum district for a bit, eating more gelato and finding ourselves opposite a gondola-repair shed, to our great surprise. Opposite that was a lovely, lovely little bar, where we experimented with spritz, a prosecco and campari cocktail that looks suspiciously like Irn Bru. It wasn't for me, but Richie managed to get through a few! We left when the place started getting full of locals, not wanting to impose with our terrible Italian. Plus, we were hungry, although we did stop off for some shopping.
We found a little restaurant and to our surprise it was the one we had given the eye to in our guidebook earlier that day, and ate a lovely meal with yet more prosecco. Hey, at 10 euros a LITRE I wasn't complaining! I picked a terrible main course, but such is life.
Spent the evening drinking at the campsite, feeling way too old compared to the gap year travellers around us enjoying the pool party. The perils of age!
On our final day in Venice, we trundled out to the Rialto, which I remembered being a sort of kaleidoscope of colour the last time I was in Venice. Either we were there too late or at the wrong time of day, because they just... weren't. Still, we did some shopping in the back streets, before somehow finding ourselves back at the same bar as the day before, in which we whiled away an afternoon with spritz, vino bianco and cinhetti, which is sort of Venetian tapas. Either way, a thoroughly recommended experience.
We ended up in a pizza restaurant for dinner, but actually it was marvellous - really different sort of pizza, and perfect for a lazy afternoon in a tucked away courtyard. Richie ordered some olives.
"They have meat in them," said the waiter, clearly concerned with my vegetarian order. Still, I don't like olives and Richie is all good with meat, so we agreed. These were not just olives. These were what we could only describe as Scotch olives, being stuffed with sausage meat, breaded, and deep fried. I suspect they were invented by a Glasweigan.
In the evening, we treated ourselves to a drink at Caffe Florian which plays jazz across the Piazza San Marco as the sun does down. Extraordinarily expensive ("do you think we can just dance out of here and they won't notice?"), but worth it to watch the last rays of sun glinting off the basillica.
And that was our trip to Venice. Our neighbours for that night banged around for about three hours so sleep sort of wasn't on the menu, and the horror of Marco Polo airport made yesterday a little fraught, but now we're back home and I've typed this all up based on my notes while Richie re-arranges the living room. Still have yet to go on honeymoon, I hasten to point out, but this was a nice prequel to it, shall we say!
1. Marco Polo airport is the WORST DESIGNED AIRPORT IN HISTORY. Ever. It is IMPOSSIBLE to work out how to buy food and there is NO QUEUING SYSTEM and basically I loathe it.
2. I have been to Venice before. I got eaten alive that time. Having never had a reaction to insect bites, it was a disquieting experience. (Only other place to bite me was the ancient ruins in Rome. Nowhere else in Rome, I might add.) So this time, I insisted we took insect repellent. Failed to take into account possibility that a full day on the prosecco might result in forgetting to apply it. Massive great lump on thighs and and itchy foot have resulted.
Thus ends the public service announcements.
Other than that, Venice was AMAZING. It was the ultimate last minute decision. We both had this week off work, but we've been waiting on Richie hearing if he got a new job, which may have involved us moving house, possibly to an area that will not involve me having a job straight away. We have some savings, so we could cope (the new job would have paid enough for us to get away with it until I was working) but it would have negated doing anything with this week off. (Which we initially had to visit Richie's folks, but they were off to Tenerife. We're rubbish at this.)
Anyway, the job in question was being rubbish at letting Richie know if he had the job or not. "Look," I said one night. "If you don't get this job, we go away for a few days. Cornwall or something."
Except we only found out about it at 4.55pm on Friday. And the UK had all kinds of flooding on Thursday and Friday.
So on Saturday morning we found ourselves booking a very, very last minute trip to Venice. With some trepidation, it was to the same campsite I'd been to with Simon. WEIRD RIGHT, except they've updated it so we wouldn't be staying in a tent but in a private bungalow thing with a bathroom. Oh, and the flight over involved a five hour stopover at Gatwick. But hey, other than that is was reasonably cheap so we spent Saturday desperately working out how to get to Manchester airport, and getting a wee travel guide, and re-learning the little Italian I knew. And Sunday morning, we were off!
Manchester airport terminal 2 is hella boring, but does a decent breakfast. We were flying B.A. (SWISH RIGHT?) and I was pleasantly surprised to be given a free drink on my flight. Had I thought faster on my feet, I would have been after some wine.
We were changing at Gatwick, and had a five hour wait there. Fortunately, since our bags were all prepped and we were checked in, we were able to go and sit in the departure lounge, where we got a half-decent lunch and then wandered around looking for a drink. We debated going to the Wetherspoons, but it was heaving. I had a peek at the Jamie Oliver pub, of which I had read good things in the Guardian but the previous sentence put me off wanting to go there. Still, it had seats and we had lots of hours to kill.
Turns out it also does 100ml carafes of wine so I think you can guess where this story is going.
Thoroughly lubricated, we headed for our slightly late flight to Venice, which I spent next to an old Italian bloke who leaned across me, barged into my seat, and spent 2/3 of the flight sucking seeds from the sandwich out of his teeth. Oh god. It was hideous. I've never been so grateful to be off a plane, and I'm including that time I threw up on the way to Crete.
At Venice, I failed to do any kind of haggling in Italian and so enjoyed the most terrifying and expensive taxi journey ever. All those stereotypes about the taxi driver were true in that driver.
Still, we arrived and as reception was closed I sort of babbled at the nice security man who sorted us out with our wee bungalow. It had air conditioning, which was bliss, and two single beds we could push together. So, you know, all good!
The next day we woke up extremely early, because it turns out the wee bungalows was basically a semi-detached caravan and if anyone else even sneezed in the adjoining caravan the entire place banged and shook. Whoever was next door was getting up very, very early. FUN TIMES.
Dazed and confused, we tried to get the 9am bus to Venice, except it was full. So I took my chances with some tea (WHY OH WHY HOT MILK IN TEA WHY) and we sat in the rapidly increasing sunshine, trying to wake up a bit.
We arrived at Tronchetto, which is basically Venice's car park, and as per the advice of our guidebook picked up a 3-day vaporetto ticket, which you can get on the cheap if you'r 19-25. STILL THERE FOR THE NEXT MONTH, PEOPLE. The vaportetto is basically the bus, but being Venice it's a boat and takes you through the Grand Cancal and the lagoon; we ended up being fairly dependent on it, actually. We went for the stereotypical tourist option first, and headed to San Marco which was actually a good move, as most of the line for the basilica was in the shade, and the church itself was lovely and cool, as well as being bathed in gold and general wonderfulness. We then proceeded to wander around the backstreets, eating a panini in the corner of a cool square, and popping into St Stefano because, well, we could!
It was at this point we took advantage of the vaporetto, essentially enjoying a cruise on public transport, seeing all of the Grand Canal, stopping offnear the Rialto for some gelato and a big bottle of cold water which was possibly the best thing in the world. We then accidentally ended up at Lido, which wasn't really for us due to having no swimsuits on, but the sight over the lagoon was very worth it.
Back at San Marco (well, why not?) we had a drink, next to what seemed to an OAP glee club, with a random singalong. Still, it gave us enough energy to head for a cheaper area of town which felt more 'real', although the heat was definitely getting oppressive by this point. Ended up having a sort of touristy dinner, and finishing off the evening with a very expensive glass of wine by the Grand Canal. Still, it was the first time a waiter didn't take pity on me and switch to English. (I am okay at restaurant Italian, but if you go off the script in my head I panic and try to talk French. Richie just about had 'ciao' and grazi' by the end of the week, and one shoplady even enquired if he was French.) Plus, we were entertained by a distant accordian player who was, actually, surprisingly brilliant. I didn't even know you could play Mozart on the accordian. The sun set, and the clouds were lit up with lightening, which I've never seen before - at no point did it hit the ground, or have any thunder or rain, just constant flashes. Eerie.
Still, when we finally got back to the campsite the best thing in the world was a cold shower. And the fact that the room next door was empty, so actually got a good night's sleep!
We woke up much later the next morning, and spent the earlier part of the day by the pool at the campsite itself. What can I say, there's something lovely about swimming lazily in the sun. Also, the previous day had left me with a blister on the bottom of my foot, which was exactly as much fun as it sounds, so walking was going to be slower that day.
We headed back into Venice in the afternoon, checked out Isola de San Giorgio, or at least the church itself, which was surprisingly quiet for such a stunning piece of architecture. Seriously, I can't push people to go and see it enough; the building is lovely, there's Tintorettos, and it's on the edge of the lagoon.
We bumbled around the museum district for a bit, eating more gelato and finding ourselves opposite a gondola-repair shed, to our great surprise. Opposite that was a lovely, lovely little bar, where we experimented with spritz, a prosecco and campari cocktail that looks suspiciously like Irn Bru. It wasn't for me, but Richie managed to get through a few! We left when the place started getting full of locals, not wanting to impose with our terrible Italian. Plus, we were hungry, although we did stop off for some shopping.
We found a little restaurant and to our surprise it was the one we had given the eye to in our guidebook earlier that day, and ate a lovely meal with yet more prosecco. Hey, at 10 euros a LITRE I wasn't complaining! I picked a terrible main course, but such is life.
Spent the evening drinking at the campsite, feeling way too old compared to the gap year travellers around us enjoying the pool party. The perils of age!
On our final day in Venice, we trundled out to the Rialto, which I remembered being a sort of kaleidoscope of colour the last time I was in Venice. Either we were there too late or at the wrong time of day, because they just... weren't. Still, we did some shopping in the back streets, before somehow finding ourselves back at the same bar as the day before, in which we whiled away an afternoon with spritz, vino bianco and cinhetti, which is sort of Venetian tapas. Either way, a thoroughly recommended experience.
We ended up in a pizza restaurant for dinner, but actually it was marvellous - really different sort of pizza, and perfect for a lazy afternoon in a tucked away courtyard. Richie ordered some olives.
"They have meat in them," said the waiter, clearly concerned with my vegetarian order. Still, I don't like olives and Richie is all good with meat, so we agreed. These were not just olives. These were what we could only describe as Scotch olives, being stuffed with sausage meat, breaded, and deep fried. I suspect they were invented by a Glasweigan.
In the evening, we treated ourselves to a drink at Caffe Florian which plays jazz across the Piazza San Marco as the sun does down. Extraordinarily expensive ("do you think we can just dance out of here and they won't notice?"), but worth it to watch the last rays of sun glinting off the basillica.
And that was our trip to Venice. Our neighbours for that night banged around for about three hours so sleep sort of wasn't on the menu, and the horror of Marco Polo airport made yesterday a little fraught, but now we're back home and I've typed this all up based on my notes while Richie re-arranges the living room. Still have yet to go on honeymoon, I hasten to point out, but this was a nice prequel to it, shall we say!
