At 6 in the morning, we took off for Venice, and then caught a bus from the airport to the Grand Canal where we got tickets to cross in a passenger barge, a Ferrovia.
Our hotel was peculiar and pleasant, with twisting passageways and stairs that went up, then down, then sideways to the rooms. Camilla and I shared a room just big enough to fit a double bed, with stone walls covered in thin upholstery fabric, a faux marble floor, and a bathroom with a nonfunctional shower. We loved it.
Then we went out! We walked and walked and walked. It was like going through a fantasy novel, with mountebanks, jugglers, peddlers and priests jostling together on the paths, and canals winding through it all.
We suddenly came upon a gondolier. No, we didn't want a ride. He left, and then we did want a ride. Camilla and Martin went rushing after him but he had vanished. Obviously, he was the one we needed. After he materialized again and loaded us into his boat, he guessed that he should speak French (he was right) and then overheard me talk to Camilla and switched to English. Alice asked him to speak Italian, which he obliged with.
In the evening, we walked through cheerful passageways until midnight.
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