As the day grew long we left the Piazza San Marco and headed in search of a vaporetto (water bus) that would return us to the Hotel del Sole. One has to be careful which kiosk you buy a ticket from as you could end up on one of the many islands surrounding Venice. Our choice was fairly easy because the sign read, “Canal Grande,” that big reverse “S” canal. This turned out to be one of the better Venetian bargains, as the cost was $8.25 each and the ticket is good for one hour. For that amount we got to ride all the way to the car park, which is just “two minutes” from our hotel. The vaporetto is very popular with locals so you can plan on standing for a while. The trick is to work your way back to the rear platform so your camera can have an unobstructed view of life in Venice. That’s what we did.
Right off the bat you have an up close view of San Giorgio Maggiore Island which began life in the 1500’s as a monastery. Today it is the headquarters of the Cini Foundation arts centre and known for its library. It also is home to the Teatro Verde open-air theater. Too bad there’s not enough time to explore all.
As the vaporetto heads into the grand canal you are never out of site of impressive architecture. Having a palazzo here must be like having a home in Beverly Hills that overlooks the San Diego Freeway.
It’s no surprise the gondoliers bring their passengers here but if they’re looking for a quiet, romantic float through Venice, they might be disappointed.
This is a fluid freeway and expensive water taxis shoot by the gondolas and vaporettos like they’re in the slow lane.
The Rialto Bridge is but one of 15 stops our vaparetto will make on its way to the transportation terminal. Another water bus is seen on its route to Piazza San Marco.
We’d often seen scenes of Venetian buildings with the “barber poles” out front and wondered what they were for. We still don’t know, but can guess they’re used for tying up a boat. If you know for sure, let us know.
When you reach the end of the line there’s no ceremony. A conductor comes through the bus waving his arms like shooing chickens, leaving no doubt you’re to debark quickly because new passengers are on their way in.
While crossing a canal bridge a guy offered Louise some roses. When she said “No” he shoved them in her hand anyway. He kept saying, “Pakistani refugee,” over and over so she dug through her purse and gave him some coins. He looked at them carefully, said “Not enough” and took his roses back. All we got for the trouble is this silhouette.
That evening we ate in the neighborhood at one of those 15 table restaurants where you sit cheek by jowl with other diners. In our case they were two mature Italian ladies. We politely ignored each other for the duration of the meal but near the end, a small green bug fell into Louise’s wine glass.
Using her spoon, she fished it out and put it on the table where it wandered in circles. By now the ladies were intrigued and watched every move. Finally, in heavily accented English, the one next to me said, “At least she saved his life.” I countered with, “But now he’s dead drunk” and we all had a laugh. Just then the waitress came by our table, spotted the drunken insect, squashed it with her thumb and scooted it off the table.
We reacted as one saying, “Oh, no” to the startled waitress. In honor of the newly departed drunken insect, we raised our glasses, said, “arrivaderci” and went back to ignoring each other.
Back at the hotel, while Louise finished packing the suitcases, I busily pounded away on the Blog. By now I was a week or two behind and dependent on notes to remember names, places and things so you all would read every important detail.
Next morning we followed our usual practice of loading up on breakfast in preparation for the trip. One unusual occurrence though. When I went to make my morning latte, the window on the coffee machine said, “Password please.” Not knowing what to do, I leaned down and whispered “Coffee.” Believe it or not, it dispensed my latte. I mentioned it to a waitress who said, “Oh, it always asks for a password when it is cleaning itself. Just wait and it will come.” So much for the power of the whispered word.
Not wanting to exhaust myself carrying suitcases again, the hotel called a porter service. They arrived with a boat but carried the suitcases only. “I have no license for passengers,” said the owner, “but I will walk you to your car.” So, in a way, we had an escort on our departure from a wonderful few days in Venice. He raised his hand and said, “Arrivaderci” as we pointed the Audi toward Austria’s Tyrolean Alps.
We could not have asked for a more beautiful day to drive through one of Europe’s most striking mountain ranges. We chose not to use the autostrada or autobahn, but selected a route directly through the center of Austria. Pastures were still vibrant green, but tree leaves were turning to fall colors. With huge mountains that just leaped out of the ground, the scenery was spectacular…as were the roads. From sea level to mountain passes, the Audi Q5 took it all in stride. I expected some power loss at higher altitudes but felt none. The roads were snake-like as we went up and over the Tyrolean Alps. After a few hours my hands were chapped from gripping the leather steering wheel but the car handled better than I expected. If ever a new car had an ultimate test, this was it…and it passed beautifully.
