Because I’m a geek, I track lots of stats about my physical state. I track the number of calories I consume, the number of calories I burn, the amount of exercise I do, and, yes, the amount of sleep I get. During the first few days of our vacation, I had nights of five hours, four hours, and zero hours of sleep. For a man who averages about 7-1/2 hours of sleep per night, that was not enough. Not even close.

Fortunately, I woke better rested than on previous mornings, but I found myself in a bit of a funk. I was grouchy and out of sorts. I had a boil on my arm (which was gross and painful), I hadn’t been getting the exercise I was used to (yes, we were walking a lot, but at a slow pace), and I was just generally out of sorts.

A group of kids near the Rialto bridge (the risers are sidewalks for high tides)

The Rick Steves group — which has a “no grumps” policy — met for a tour of the Accademia art gallery, where an Italian tour guide spent 90 minutes describing the collection of Catholic art. I hated it. Much of this art is beautiful, and I don’t have anything against Catholics, but it was all too much, too soon. After just a few days in Italy, I was beginning to believe the entire country was only about Catholicism. And wine.

After the Accademia, we toured Ca’ Rezzonico, a palazzo (or palace) that has been converted into a museum dedicated to 18th-century Venice. The building was grand, and I liked some of the art, but my feet were sore, the day was hot, the pace was slow, and I was cranky that this palazzo — which had been billed to us as “typical of the day” — was mostly unfurnished. (At the Louvre in Paris, I was pleased as punch that the Napoleon III rooms retained much of their original furnishings.) It didn’t take long until Kris was grumpy that I was grumpy.

Fortunately, my mood improved in the afternoon.

First, Joy and Phil — the only other couple our age in the tour group — invited us to join them for lunch. I was quiet and surly at first, but the food and conversation improved my mood. Plus, I shared a liter of wine with Joy and Phil. If you get to Venice, I recommend Avogaria Locanda, which is also apparently a hotel. The beef stew was great!

Typical menu board in Italy. Note that “panini” just means “sandwiches”.

After lunch, Kris and I meandered back to the hotel. This was fun for me because it meant I got to pick my way through the twisting maze of Venetian streets. Throughout the trip, I kept saying that maps and directions are one of my super powers. It’s true. I love going to a new city and having to navigate my way around. Venice was probably the most fun I’ve ever had doing this.

We made a quick pit stop, and then headed out again. First we stopped so Kris could buy some Murano glass. Next, we walked over to the Basilica di San Giovanni e Paolo (or, the church of St. John and Paul).

A typical Venetian street sign, painted on the wall

Chiesa di Ss. Giovanni e Paolo, Venice

It’s tough to convey the scale of this place. It’s huge. Note the woman in lower left.

Another member of our group (Carrie) had stumbled upon this church by accident, and told us it was great. She was right. Though San Giovanni e Paolo doesn’t get promoted in the guidebooks, it’s actually fairly cool. It was one of Kris’ favorite spots on our entire trip. “I like the tombs,” she says. She likes the tombs in all of the churches. And this church had the tomes of 25 doges (or dukes), the rulers of Venice.

Note the floor, which is in a state of “elegant decay”.

Kris likes this “dead baby angel” bas relief. She likes all tombs.

After San Giovanni e Paolo, we decided to hoof it to St. Mark’s before it closed. I got side-tracked, however, by a bookstore billing itself (in self-conscious irony) as “the most beautiful bookshop in the world”, which is technically called Libreria Acqua Alta.

The most beautiful bookshop in the world

Kris thought the bookstore’s fire exit was hilarious

This bookstore is far from beautiful, but the owner is friendly, and happy to crack jokes in English (and other languages, too, I suspect). The store features stacks and stacks of used books, all tumbling over each other in wonderful disarray. I spent a happy half hour digging through old comics before buying some Italian translations of comics I loved as a kid.

The bookstore also had a cat — only the second we’d seen in Venice — but he didn’t want to have anything to do with us. Kris tried to take a photo, but this was all she could manage:

“I hate tourists,” this cat seems to be saying. He did not want his photo taken.

If you’re a book lover, this is a must-visit destination in Venice. Damn Rick Steve for not including this in his guidebook!

Despite the side-trip, we were able to see St. Mark’s — for five minutes. Because we had a museum pass from earlier in the day, we were able to get into the ground floor for free. We followed the masses around and snapped a couple of quick photos. If we’d had more time, we could have paid to see the famous four horses. Based on our cursory visit, though, we weren’t impressed. It’s neat, but it’s very touristy. The Scrovegni Chapel in Padua was better, and maybe too were the other cathedrals we saw in Venice.

Kris, getting cozy with the Italian wildlife

We returned to the hotel, where we spent some time unwinding. Then we headed out to dinner with new friends Joy and Phil. We ate at a place that had been recommended to them by friends: Osteria Antico Giardinetto. It’s a lovely, quiet little spot with good food and friendly staff.

Phil’s meal was squid-ink pasta. This isn’t a bad photo — the stuff is just black!

Back at the hotel, we packed for our morning departure to Florence.

After another breakfast consisting of yogurt, a hard roll, and orange juice, the Rick Steves group met Elisabetta, a native Venetian and our guide for a tour through the heart of the city.

We headed south from our hotel (Pensione Guerrato), making our way slowly through the crowded streets to the Accademia Bridge (so named because it’s located next to the Accademia art gallery). Along the way, we stopped to tour the Basilica di Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari, yet another church. (Sorry to be dismissive. We toured many churches in Venice, and a few more in France. They blur together after awhile. Kris liked this one. Ask her to tell you about it.)

We also stopped at a shop that makes Venetian masks, where Elisabetta told us their history.

As you can tell from the video, Elisabetta was a kick. Besides having a great sense of humor, she was the best source we found for information on what life is really like in Venice.

Trouble in Venice
Most people believe that the biggest problem Venice faces is flooding. They think the city is sinking. Elisabetta says that actually the city’s current crisis is depopulation. Venice had 250,000 inhabitants in the 18th century and 160,000 people after World War II. But today, Venice has only 60,000 people.

She says the top reasons for this rapid drop in population are the difficulty finding work along with rising expectations. (Or, as we say around Get Rich Slowly, lifestyle inflation.) Plus, everyday costs are greater in Venice. Elisabetta said, “Milk might cost €1.25 here in Venice, but only €0.60 in Mestre [just across the water on the mainland]. It costs more to live here because things cost more to transport.”

Though Elisabetta didn’t mention it, I wonder if the tourist trade also has caused the cost of living to increase. There were a ton of tourists in Venice, even in late September. In fact, it seemed like the city is mostly tourists — like a Disneyland for old, rich white people.

Elisabetta thinks people should visit Venice in the winter, when it isn’t mobbed by foreigners. “I always suggest that people come to Venice in the winter,” she said. “Why? Because that’s the only time you can feel Venice. There’s a different rhythm of life.”

Elisabetta also talked a bit about the wonderful Venetian practice called the ombra. This is like a coffee break, but with a glass of wine. In fact, one morning I watched as a construction worker took a break at 10 a.m. to go into a shop for a glass of white wine (perhaps prosecco, a local sparkling wine). According to Elisabetta, folks who start work early (like garbage collectors, whose days begin at 4 a.m.) might have a glass of wine at 6 a.m. — but she doesn’t recommend it.

Back to our tour…
When we reached Piazza San Marco (a.k.a. St. Mark’s Square), the group parted ways. Kris and I scouted out a place near the river for pizza and prosecco. After lunch, we returned to Piazza San Marco to tour the Doge’s Palace, the highlights of which were the very dungeon-like dungeon and the Ponte dei Sospiri (or Bridge of Sighs).

Kris, in the courtyard of the Doge’s Palace

The Doge’s Palace and St. Mark’s Cathedral (under restoration)

Detail from a cornice of the Doge’s Palace

We met the tour group at 6 p.m. for a “pub crawl”. We went to three different cicchetti bars for wine and snacks. Cicchetti are basically appetizer plates, which I found similar to Spanish tapas. They might be olives or meats or small sandwiches or even just vegetables. It’s good stuff.

At the second cicchetti bar, I chatted with the server about soccer, which goes by the name calcio (or “kick”) in Italy. He gave me advice for seeing a match in Rome on Sunday between Lazio and an out-of-town rival. (Lazio is the region of Italy — like a state, I guess — in which Rome is located.) If the timing was fortuitous, the group might get to Rome in time for me to watch the match.

At 8 p.m., the group took an hour-long gondola ride on the Grand Canal. We were serenaded by a guitarist and vocalist, which I tried to capture on video.

After the gondola ride, Kris and I stopped to buy sweets on the way back to the hotel. (In Venice, Kris developed a taste for meringues.)

After nearly twelve hours of much-needed sleep, Kris and I both woke at 4:30 a.m. We read and wrote in our journals. I was famished, so I ate some of my stash of airline snacks. (On the flight to Venice, I’d carefully avoided the peanuts and pretzels — I wanted to stick to my diet!)

At seven, we headed down to the breakfast room of the Pensione Guerrato. There we had the first of many continental breakfasts, all of which consisted of hard rolls, yogurt, cheese, granola, and coffee (for Kris) or orange juice (for me).

After breakfast, we took the train to Padua (or Padova, as it’s known in Italy), about thirty minutes inland. We were both very nervous. This was the first time we’d ever ventured out on our own in a land where we could not speak the language. (I had studied a little Italian before we arrived, but only a very little.) Plus, we were both anxious about pickpockets. Everything we read warned us about pickpockets in France and Italy. (And as many of you know, Kris had money stolen from her purse within 15 minutes of arriving in London in 2007, so we know pickpocketing occurs!)

But we didn’t have any trouble.

We walked to the Scrovegni Chapel, where it took us about twenty minutes to figure out how to enter. (I’m not kidding!) We were able to take the tour despite not having reservations. We spent fifteen minutes looking at the frescoes by Giotto. Alas, we were not allowed to take photos — and a docent stood by to enforce the rule.

Later, we walked down to the university district and looked at the produce market. Many Italian cities have these semi-permanent open-air markets where vendors sell flowers, fruit, fish, meat, vegetables, and more. They’re like our farmers’ markets, but they occur every day instead of once a week.

Shopping for produce at the Rialto market in Venice

Mushrooms at the market in Padua

Seafood for sale at the Rialto market in Venice

Prosciutto in a typical Ventian store (not at the market)

We bought a couple of slices of pizza and sat outside at a table to eat. Apparently, however, the table belonged to the cafe next door because they told us we couldn’t eat there.

This was our introduction to the concept of coperto. If you want to sit at a table in Italy — especially in northern Italy — you have to pay for the privilege. You can eat at the counter (or get your food to go) for free, but if you eat at a table, you pay coperto, a cover charge of between €1 and €3 per person.

Embarrassed, we picked up our pizza and left.

A typical Italian pizza, exactly like the ones they serve at Mi Famiglia

On our walk back to the train station, Kris got a compliment. A woman stopped her and began to ask directions in Italian. Kris smiled and tried to mutter a reply. The woman realized she’d made a mistake, shook her head, and walked on to find a real Italian.

Back in Venice, we took a nap. At 1600, we went downstairs to the breakfast room to meet our Rick Steves tour group, which comprised Sarah (our tour guide) and 25 other tourists. We spent about 90 minutes introducing ourselves and going over ground rules. Then we headed out for a short walking tour of Venice.

You see this dozens of times a day in Venice (one reason I want to live there!)

The walking tour led us to Anonimo Veneziano — or The Anonymous Venetian — where we got to know other members of the group over a long dinner, which included:

• Crostini with tomatoes (and cheese?)
• White vegetarian lasagna
• Seared steak served over arugula, zucchini, and eggplant
• Tiramisu (I ate a fruit plate instead)

After dinner, some of us took a short stroll to Piazza San Marco (a.k.a. St. Mark’s Square), where we heard orchestras playing and watched other tourists crowding around — just like us!

We fell asleep to the sounds of noisy chatter in the plaza below the Pensione Guerrato — and the strains of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama”.

Kris and I woke at 3 a.m. on September 25th to shower and finish packing. Tiffany drove us to the airport, where I actually managed to make it through security without incidence for once. (I always get stopped at security for one thing or another; I was stopped on our flight home from this trip!)

For our flight to New York, we were seated near the rear of the plane where we were surrounded by a large group of Ukrainians who drank copiously and bantered boisterously. One of the two bathrooms behind us had a faulty locking mechanism, so a flight attendant place it out of order, which produced long lines for the loo during the entire flight.

At JFK, we disembarked through the exact same gate we flew home from the last time were here, coming back from England in 2007. After walking to the far end of the terminal to wait out our four-hour layover, I passed the time by doing body-weight exercises: sit-ups, squats, lunges, and so on. I was very worried about going “soft” on this trip.

The flight from JFK to Venice was uneventful. We watched TV shows and movies and played videogames on the iPad. We dominated in-flight trivia. (I always dominate in-flight trivia. I had the top score for the flight, as usual.) Kris napped a little; I did not.

Arrival in Venice
After our flight landed in Venice, we cleared customs quickly (it’s only in the U.S. that customs takes forever) and walked to the waterbus (or alilaguna) terminal. The waterbus follows a heavily-tracked aqua-highway marked by hundreds of wooden pilings. Boats ply their way along this dredged canal (outside the pilings, the water is very shallow), speeding from the mainland to the island city of Venice.

Kris, waiting for the alilaguna/waterbus to take us to Venice

The waterbus let us off at the Ponte di Rialto stop. The Rialto Bridge is the oldest of the four bridges that span Venice’s grand canal; the first bridge here was built in 1255, and the current bridge was completed in 1591 — when Shakespeare was alive.

From the Rialto Bridge, we made our way through the heavy crowd to the nearby Pensione Guerrato, our hotel. Immediately it was clear that Venice was like nowhere else we’d ever been. The city is built atop more than 100 small islands, and most of the buildings are hundreds of years old. The cobble-stone streets are often very narrow, and you’re constantly crossing bridges as you move from one place to another. Because of Venice’s nature, wheeled vehicles make no sense. Not even bikes. (You’d ride your bike 50 feet and then have to stop to carry it across a canal!) All traffic is on foot — or by boat. It’s awesome!

Water traffic on the Grand Canal, just in front of the train station (low building on right)

By 1300 hours in Venice, I’d been awake for 25 hours straight. It took almost precisely 24 hours to reach our hotel room from the time we woke up in Portland the morning before. (Which was 3 a.m., as you’ll recall.) Our goal was to go until 1900 or 2000 and then crash, so we showered and headed out for a much-needed meal.

We ate outside in the sun (too hot for me, just right for Kris) at Trattoria da Bepi. We were surprised at how well the staff spoke English — well enough to joke around with us. (But, as we’d learn, this was par for the course in the touristy spots of Italy.) I had mussels and chicken kabobs and 375ml of prosecco, Italy’s sparkling wine. (Note: Unlike most of the reviewers at the site I linked to, we found Trattoria da Bepi to be just fine. Nothing great, but not bad either.)

A quick walk through the city
After lunch, we wandered the wide boulevard of Strada Nova (the “new” street) toward the train station, over the bridge, and then back to the Pensione Guerrato. Along the way, we learned how Venice’s streets twist and turn like a fantastic maze. They also change names constantly. For example, Strada Nova started as Sesiere Cannaregio and ended as Rio Terá de la Madalena and Rio Terá San Leonardo. Confusing!

J.D., walking down a narrow street in Venice

The streets were crowded on this warm Sunday afternoon. We stopped for two scoops of gelato each, the first of many such scoops we ate in Italy. We also looked through a Venetian supermarket.

Our exhaustion and different travel styles — Kris wants everything spelled out, but I’d rather go with the flow and make things up as we go along — led to short tempers in Venice. Kris wanted answers to questions I couldn’t give her (“How will we know where and when to board the waterbus?” “Where does this street go?”). I’m perfectly content just muddling my way through, making mistakes as I go along. That means I’m willing to trust my gut in the tight and twisty unmarked streets, while Kris would rather verify that every street is either right or wrong before continuing. So we bickered.

Mostly, though, we were just tired and hungry.

After nearly 30 hours without sleep, I was ready to drop. So that’s what I did. After we finally made our way back to the hotel (it was a long walk), I crawled into bed and slept for twelve hours.

The view from the Pensione Guerrato

The Pensione Guerrato from the plaza below (our room is on top floor with open shutters)