Venice is like eating an entire box of chocolate liqueurs in one go.
– Truman Capote, American writer

I woke up Tuesday morning before 6am thinking to myself, this is our last day in Italy. The sun was up already and I wanted to go out with a bang – live as fully as I could and make the most of this final day.

Watching the gondoliers while waiting for the vaporetto at San Marco Basin.

A heron successfully fishes for breakfast below our vaporetto dock.

We took the vaparetto to Murano Island and spent a leisurely morning walking the quiet – thankfully, no tourist groups – streets of the famous place where beautiful glass works are made. The sun was very hot by late morning, but we had a nice snack of croissants, or cornetti, by the waterfront.

Boat docked on the island of Murano.

One euro for the accordion player.

A quiet morning on Murano.

I had a personal mission to find a necklace that wasn’t like all the necklaces we had seen in Venezia and Murano – the glass balls or overly ornate, heavy pieces. I saw two that were distinctive, but when it came time to choose one, I couldn’t find the other store (it was likely closed for the siesta hours) and settled upon a lariat-style necklace that was unique. We made a return trip to Venezia via the vaparetto and took a little siesta before heading back out for more meanderings on the streets and canals of the city.

Daily life in Venetia.

Internet access was spotty once again; such was the case in all three hotels. The afternoon hotel desk clerk was apologetic and kind enough to give us the private network and password, but it could only be used on the main floor. While we sat in the lounge area next to the breakfast room and caught up on emails and or putting up a blog post, our hotel desk clerk had turned up the volume so that Pink Floyd blared from the speakers. Another staffer, upon seeing us, promptly scolded him for his indiscretion, but as we left to return to our room, David let him know that we like Pink Floyd. He smiled and enthusiastically thanked us. Pink Floyd clearly puts a spring in his step.

The anecdote about our hotel clerk made me remember another story of the ticket seller at the front desk of the Museo Correr. As we completed the transaction, he was listening to music and completely engrossed in singing along. He reminded me of the Italian actor Roberto Benigni but with Tourette Syndrome, the way that he was thrumming his fingers on the counter and spontaneously spouting off to himself, so full of energy. He told us that he loved the song that was playing in the main hall, which was called You Belong to Me. And then added that he asked his wife to sing the song with him, but she refused because she said she did not belong to him or to anybody else for that matter. With a mock pained expression, he shrugged his shoulders to David and said women were so difficult. Then he looked me in the eye and announced that at the same time, men could not live without women. He glanced at me when he made the latter pronouncement, as if to include me in on the grand truth.

Gently rocking boats further down the Grand Canal.

After taking our siesta, we sprung from our tiny hotel room in search of the Rialto Bridge, which spans the Grand Canal, but along the way, we spied a gondolier tucked away on a quiet canal, looking for riders. It was midday and I figured we might as well take advantage of the ride now, something the kids wanted to do while in Venezia. Part of me was afraid that if we didn’t do it now, we might very well get sidetracked, lose sense of time, which is easy to do with the maze of streets and canals, and then wind up running out of time on our last day. We thought it was too expensive to take a gondola ride 18 years ago, but, despite it being a touristy thing to do, I was all (sans the accordion playing and singing, however, which would have cost a total of 120 euros). I wanted to give the kids a memorable time through the canals of Venezia. It was such a pleasure to hear them say that they enjoyed the ride, and Isabella confided to me that Venezia was her favorite city on our trip, which I had predicted would be the case leading up to our vacation.

Family portrait on our gondola.

Reflections on a gondola.

Here we are again, 18 years later.

We learned some interesting things from our gondolier. Venezia comprises 117 small islands. There are 409 bridges, but only three cross the Grand Canal. Only Venetians can be gondoliers, which number some 430 in all. Gondoliers have to go through training, not unlike driving school, and they own their own boats, which they can decorate as they choose but also abide by strict codes. They traverse some 150 canals throughout the city. Our guide pointed out various churches and famous buildings where poets and other notables lived. I lost track of how long the ride was, but we opted for the day ride instead of the evening ride, which I think will be on the next must-do list of things upon our return to this city.

A grand view of the Grand Canal.

After the gondola ride, we finally found, after much zigzagging and meeting dead ends to steps leading into the green waters of the canals, the Rialto Bridge over the Grand Canal. Of course, as fate would have it, the bridge was in restoration, although the shops along the bridge were open for business. I’ve come to conclude that in Italy many famous structures will be in various states of restoration, so I got over the disappointment by telling myself that I’ll return to see in its full glory whatever was covered up before. Such will be the case with this famous bridge. We hung over the bridge and watched gondolas and vaporettos glide and motor by, respectively.

We continued our walk aimlessly around the city, poking in and out of mask and glass shops, not quite finding anything that really spoke to us. We did find Vespa t-shirts, which was on my list of what I’d like to get if I came across them again. By late afternoon, we decided to rely on Rick Steves to guide us to our final meal in Venezia and, indeed, our final meal in Italy. We were the first patrons of Trattoria da Bepi (Cannaregio, 1372), which didn’t open until 7pm. (We wandered around the charming neighborhood of Campo Santo Apostolic on Salizada Pistor the kill time.) But within an hour of our arrival, British tourists and locals alike filled the place up.

Trattoria da Bepi before it opened, before candles and crisp tablecloths adorned the tables on the street side.

Local tiny scallops for appetizers.

Tagliatelle with claim sauce.

Jacob’s spaghetti with clams.

The seafood was amazing – simple, with butter and herbs. The appetizer, local small scallops, was tasty, as was our tagliatelle and clam sauce. We did not find adequate gelato, which I figured as much, given the abundance of tourists, so we indulged in the dolci – a lava cake for Isabella, biscotti and sweet wine for David, and an almond-chocolate cake and sweet wine for me. The meal was molto buono, and we let our appreciative server know.

Artichoke hearts in a patty.

Dessert time!

Almond-chocolate cake.

After dinner, we wandered around city streets again, something I’m quite fond of doing in any city but particularly Venezia because you never know what you’ll find (without a map, of course) – blind alley, opening to quiet residential streets or bustling shops or piazza, or a drop-off to the canal. That’s what makes strolling the city so enchanting. On our way back to our hotel, we stopped by Piazza San Marco for serenades under the near full moon.

And the band played on at Piazza San Marco.

An appreciative crowd.

The next band played their music two restaurants away from the first band on Piazza San Marco.

Another beautiful evening.

Goodnight San Marco Basin!

We had to get up early Wednesday morning to catch our flight – a water taxi straight from our hotel to the Marco Polo airport at 7:15am. David got dressed earlier and took to the streets with his camera for a last rendezvous of Piazza San Marco. All was quiet except for street cleaners and Asian brides and grooms posing for portrait photographers. David caught a fisherman casting off in San Marco Basin and docked, covered gondolas being swayed by the waters of the Adriatic Sea.

Early Wednesday morning quiet scene.

Looking across the serene San Marcos Basin early in the morning.

All’s quiet at Piazza San Marco.

As we watched the city skyline recede from our view as the water taxi whisked us away, we told the kids we’d be back again. Sooner than 18 years, but just not sure when. While I’ll admit I got only a few days of a full night’s sleep, this vacation was just what I needed. It was alternately invigorating and restful when I needed it to be.

Only early in the morning can you get a people-less view off of Piazza San Marco.

Column detail with seagull.

Best time to fish – early in the morning.

While she had a great time during the entire trip, Isabella has been anxious to get back to her rabbits and Rex. Jacob was genuinely sad for our holiday to end. While I have my novel to return to finish off with its impending August publish date as well as numerous responsibilities to attend to, I’m sad, too. I’ll admit to being tired of living out of a suitcase and I’m also anxious to return to family and friends, Rex and rabbits, the garden, and the routine of El Cerrito life, but I’m sad for this family and friends time to come to a close. It was truly a wonderful vacation that brought me back to places I’d missed and new adventures that I could never have imagined. I’m reinvigorated and understand how time is short and we must live life to its fullest, whether it be on vacation or in everyday life. But no matter where, life is around us to enjoy and celebrate. Arrivederci Venezia and Italia! I look forward to adventures at home as well as plans for our next vacation.

Good-bye Hotel Nuovo Teson.

While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand; when falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall, and when Rome falls, the world.
– Lord Byron, English poet and leading figure of the Romantic Movement

I remember 18 years ago when we landed in Rome in the morning and we followed advice to stay awake the entire day so as not to prolong jet lag. Our first stop was the Coliseum and the Forum. And I remember vividly my awe as I approached the Coliseum and looked up at one of the great wonders of the world.

In all its glory, the Coliseum in panoramic view.

This time around, we weren’t a couple on the verge of becoming engaged. We were a family of four traveling with good friends, another family of four. We took two taxis and promptly wondered how we would communicate, given that we didn’t have Internet access. I remember the crowds, but somehow this time around the crowds were more intrusive. This is probably due to the influx of selfie sticks, which I now roundly condemn. No longer do people communicate with strangers and ask them to take their picture. Now we have single people or couples who don’t take into consideration who is behind them or in front of them, as they become self-absorbed in taking their photographs. But enough said of this phenomenon!

Arches just inside the entrance.

Family portrait with the Coliseum in the background.

As before, I was in awe of the monuments. We took a guided tour, which was a mixed bag of having to deal with a crowd within a crowd and missing a lot of what our tour guide in training was saying because it was hard to decipher his words via the speakers. One thing we all agreed to hearing was how the word “vomit” came to be. Passage ways in the Coliseum were built below or behind the seats so that people could disperse quickly upon completion of the event or in an emergency evacuation. The Latin word “vomitoria” means rapid discharge. The English took that word to mean what we know it as today.

A panoramic view of the interior of the Coliseum.

One other thing that I remember our tour guide telling us was the argument among archaeologists about whether to rebuild the Coliseum or to let it continue to crumble, showing the passage of time. I saw sections of the Coliseum that had been rebuilt with newer brick. After comparing them side by side, I have to agree with the archaeologists who believe that it should not be rebuilt. It just doesn’t look the same. Perhaps it can be rebuilt elsewhere, but the ruins remain as is. I agree that after all is said and done, you can’t renovate a masterpiece. It becomes part of antiquity and future generations can read books and see photographs – and perhaps see a rebuilt version on other grounds.

The gang’s all here for a group shot in the Coliseum.

After the Coliseum tour, we ate our first mediocre meal of our trip, which we figured would be the case, given its proximity to the Coliseum and our understanding that many of these nearby dining establishments cater to tourists. That was planned because after lunch we then went to the Forum, an enormous rectangular piazza filled with wondrous ancient ruins.

The massive Arch of Constantine before entering the Forum.

Detail from the Arch of Constantine.

Detail of a broken piece on the grounds of the Forum.

A view of the Arch of Septimus Severus, which is at one end of the Forum.

A long view of the Forum facing the entrance to the Forum.

A grouping of ruins.

Columns facing a cloudy sky.

The one ruin I was especially looking forward to revisiting was the Vestal of Virgins. David had taken a series of black-and-white photographs of this row of statues 18 years ago. After walking around, we thought perhaps they were behind sections that were cordoned off for refurbishing. Thank goodness, to my delight, the last section we entered was the famed ruin. It did not disappoint. Neither did David’s new set of photographs.

My favorite area of the Forum – the Vestal Virgins.

A lone virgin.

The Vestal Virgins and backdrop.

While we were walking around the grounds of the Vestal of Virgins, the promised thunderstorm that was lurking behind gathering clouds early afternoon finally came down with mighty force. We were prepared with our rain jackets and umbrellas. As Sofia, Raissa and Mike’s daughter, dutifully held the umbrella to protect David’s camera, David took this amazing photograph:

The Forum during a thunderstorm.

One thing David and I didn’t do when we were here 18 years ago was go to the top of the gardens and overlook the Forum. We were in for a breathtaking treat, which was a fitting way to conclude our visit to the Forum.

Amazing clouds over a glorious sweep of the Forum.

A view from the top of the Forum looking toward the entrance.

A view of the far left of the Forum from the top of the gardens.

A panoramic view of the Forum.

Our last stop of the day was to see Michelangelo’s statue of Moses (with horns) at San Pietro in Vincoli (Saint Peter in Chains). The famous marble statue was commissioned in 1505 by Pope Julius II for his tomb. Michelangelo worked on it from 1513 to 1515. The church also contains the chains of Peter, which were used to bound Saint Peter when he was imprisoned in Jerusalem.

Seeing Michelangelo’s Moses the second time around is not any less impressive than seeing it for the first time.

We concluded our evening with our last dinner at the Grotta Azzura, two doors down. And went to bed with our red birds safely watching over us in our Roma apartment.

I’m going to miss waking up in this amazing four-poster bed with red birds in flight above me.