Three Days of Wonder in the City of Light

The week leading up to my arrival in Italy’s car-free, romantic island city of Venice, I sent out multiple CouchSurfing requests hoping for a three night stay somewhere deep in the heart of the city. But unfortunately, I got nothing in return but rejections. So rather than wallow in my failure to find a free bed, I decided to shell out the extra 30 euros for a decent place to stay in one of the most tantalizing cities Italy has to offer. Considering my idea of fun doesn’t include searching tirelessly through the overwhelmingly confusing Venetian canals and never ending unmarked side streets with two heavy bags strapped to the front and back of me, I booked the closest hostel to the train station for one night, and said farewell to Florence the following morning.

After just a three minute walk from the station, I was standing in front of a poorly marked door with a tiny golden sign that was very discreetly labeled Absolut Venice. I rang the doorbell, walked up the old rickety stairs and down the hallway to the front desk-which had nothing behind it but an empty office chair. The walls were brightly dressed with strange Venetian masks and several flags of different countries-USA’s being suspended proudly just beyond the tiny cluttered desk. After dropping my bags and posting myself promptly in front of the fan, I heard someone coming, and the owner of the hostel, whose name was Lapo, walked over to greet me. He was an older man with spikey black hair and a piercing in his lip. It was pretty clear by the looks of him that Lapo was young at heart, especially since he was wearing a t-shirt of a fairly unknown gypsy-punk band I listen to called Gogol Bordello. The first thing I told him was that I liked his shirt, and he quickly reacted by saying “Then I like you!” I’m lucky I listen to Gogol Bordello too, because it earned me a much better room than I paid for!

We bantered back and forth for awhile about the band and how many times we’ve both seen them live, and then he finally gave me the key and told me to meet him at the desk in a few minutes for a tour of the city. So I quickly claimed a bed in my room, splashed some water on my heat-soaked face and head back to the lobby to meet Lapo.

When I got there, Lapo and a Brazilian girl named Julianna-who looked only a few years older than me, were both waiting comfortably next to the fan by the desk, anticipating the awful strength of the Venetian summer heat. As I walked toward them, they hurried me toward the door to ensure that we got to the bar in time for the World Cup game between Brazil and Chile. We made one stop along the way for a plate of local Venetian cuisine, which included an assortment of fresh fish caught earlier in the day, prepared in an array of mouth-watering and innovative ways known only by Venetian chefs how to truly master. I don’t even eat fish unless it’s in a tuna sandwich or in a sushi roll. But I absolutely had to make an exception here, and I’m glad I did, because the food was amazing.

By the time we cleaned our plates and paid our bill, the game was already starting, and since the bar Lapo had in mind was all the way across town, we had to get there the fastest way possible in a street-less city: by boat! So we hopped on one of the many Vaporettos, or boat buses, that will take you down the Grand Canal for 7 euros each way, and made our way down the calm dark water toward the dock where our bar sat just a few blocks beyond. Lucky for me, there didn’t seem to be anyone paying attention to who did and did not pay. So I enjoyed my free water tour of the Grand Canal and watched the sun slowly fall behind the brightly colored Venetian houses until we reached our destination.

Now despite my lack of interest in the World Cup (and all sports in general for that matter), it’s nearly impossible to avoid getting wrapped up in the excitement of each game when you’re surrounded by hundreds of passionate fans who would like nothing more than to see their team crush its rival into submission. Therefore, considering my Brazilian company for the night, I chose to root against Chile to avoid getting a Capoeira kick to the face. Fortunately for all of us, Brazil won in a landslide, and we all went home with huge smiles on our faces, especially Julianna!

The next morning, I checked out of the hostel early enough to beat the hot sun and get lost in the city for a few hours before it rose high enough to melt the skin off my back. Lapo let me leave my bags in the hostel for free while I went exploring-I think because he developed quite a liking to me, he even offered me a job at the hostel including room and board! I had to decline his request, however, because Lapo was beginning to stick to me like glue since the Gogol Bordello incident, which I could foresee becoming a problem. Besides, I ended up finding a CouchSurfing host in Venice for the following evening! So Lapo gave me a map of the city (also for free) and I went on my way. Nevertheless, in Venice there really is no point in owning a map, because even the greatest map in the world won’t make it any less complicated to navigate your way from one end of the island to the other. So I decided the best way to explore the city was with out its help. I spent the rest of the day exploring the city instead of exploring my map. And being a city of tourists, I passed countless travelers struggling to decide whether to follow their directional instincts or the 2D rectangular picture of the city they carried in their fanny packs. Don’t they know how fun it is to get lost in a new city?? It’s not like you can get off the island on foot!

By the time I navigated myself back to the hostel to get my bags, the sun was preparing to set on the shimmering city, and my CouchSurfing host, Flavio, was waiting for me at the bus stop. So I headed off Venice island and into “mainland Venice” as Flavio called it-which was equally beautiful in its own way. Flavio was an amazing host and I enjoyed every minute at his place. For each meal he prepared a five star dish that we would eat on his balcony overlooking the neighborhood, where you could see children playing and smell pizza baking just below us at a local pizzeria. He even had a Gibson Les Paul for me to play, which just topped off the wonderfulness completely! I only planned on staying at Flavio’s for one night before heading to Cinque Terre, but I missed the train the next morning and he was nice enough to let me stay one more night! I have certainly had amazing luck with my CouchSurfing, I am beginning to wonder if it is even possible to have a negative experience...

After three wonderful days in Venice with some new found friends (and possibly future colleagues?), it was time to say goodbye and head towards the Italian coast for some hiking and some fun in the sun. So I said my (second) goodbye to Flavio, and hopped a train to Cinque Terre.

The man seated next to me on the train was quite possibly the most interesting character I’ve met thus far on this journey. He looked to be about 75 years old, and was dressed like a traveling salesman with his yellow and brown checkered sport coat and his 1920s cap. He sat quietly for the first five minutes of the ride, then spent the rest of the hour and forty minutes talking my ear off in broken English, despite the fact that I looked tired and uninterested. I nodded my head consistently every few sentences while he said phrases like “Obama from Chicago! Bush from Texas! Uhhh Manhattan? New York. New York? Las Vegas.” Then once I told him I was from Michigan, he proceeded to ask me over and over again if the Mississippi River goes through Michigan. Finally I just said it does, and he nodded his head ecstatically as if he had just won a million dollars. A few minutes later, he grabbed his bags and left, making me assume he was getting off at the next stop. But as I should have expected, he quickly returned with an assortment of goodies from the restaurant car: a small jug of apricot juice, a bag of chips, and a bottle of white wine with 2 glasses resting on the neck of the bottle. He insisted that I put the chips and juice in my bag for later, and then poured us both a glass of wine so we could enjoy the train ride properly as we chugged on through to the coast. As we smacked glasses and spoke intently about the assortments of cities and states in America that he has heard of, the teenagers behind me giggled with curiosity, wondering what we could possibly be discussing for so long. Mister De Bicio, as he introduced himself as later, had to get off at the stop before mine, so we said our goodbyes and wished each other safe travels. It’s kind of funny, after he got off the train and the nearly full car filled with silence, I kind of missed the old loon’s company! Meeting those types of people are just another of many upsides to traveling solo! I wonder who it will be next!