On this holiday weekend in May, Venice has been filled with tourists, and for good reason - Venice is inescapably beautiful, even with the crowds. From the top of each of the 400+ bridges in the city is a postcard-worthy view; half-way through our first day, David finally had to ask: was I going to take a picture of every one? My options seem clear to me: either take hundreds of pictures to remember the city, or move here. I prefer the latter.
Potentially my favorite thing about Venice is the lack of cars. Throughout the rest of the world, we have carved out pockets of carless spaces, parks and plazas and such. But here there's an incredible sort of independence to be found in walking, especially since Venice is so small that you could walk from one end to the other in less than an hour. Most of our time here has been spent in such roaming: ducking into sidestreets and impossibly narrow alleyways, stepping off the cobblestone walks into pastry shops or private gardens. And here, as in Prague, flowerboxes seem to be a mandatory addition to every windowsill. I honestly believe they must always be in bloom.
By a fantastic stroke of luck, the weekend we chose to visit Venice happened to be the weekend of the city's largest "boat parade:" Vogalunga. Rowers, canoers, and kayakers from all over the world swarmed to Venice to compete in the 30 km race around the island. As a coxswain, my heart was warmed by the sight of spandex and oars, and I loved getting to watch all the different styles of rowing and types of boats. Screw Head of the Charles; Rice Crew should row here.
The title of this post comes from astrological fact and also from our first day in Venice, when we arrived by bus at 5 am and explored until past nightfall.
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