No matter what anyone may say (or even what I might claim at times), I am and always have been a romantic. No, not in the sense of wanting to be swept off my feet by some knight in shining armor, but having notions of an idealized or otherworldly reality, seeing and feeling with my heart much clearer and deeper than my eyes or hands ever could. Blame Disney and its magical worlds filled with singing animals and bold heroines – or the fact that I’m an INFJ.
So when I arrived in Venice, one of the world’s most romantic cities, I was completely enchanted.
It was late dusk when I walked out of Santa Lucia train station. I bought a 3-day unlimited Vaporetto pass (the best decision I made in Venice!) and squeezed myself into the crowded water bus that was bobbing in the wide canal. I leaned against the railing and closed my eyes, deeply breathing in the wonderful, faint smell of seawater as we left the dock.
My back was starting to feel the strain of lugging around my heavy backpack and jumping from train to train over the last 10 days. I was tired and achy. But all that disappeared once we cruised into the historic city.
Just like my first day in Italy, I was transported into another world – one of fairy tales and endless possibilities. The softly-lit paths along the canal made the water look like molten gold.
We sped past churches and many grand buildings, and under bridges, most of which have stood for centuries and have survived several wars. It reminded me that this beautiful city was once a great sovereign state, all on its own.
I finally reached my stop at Giudecca, one of the less-crowded islands in Venice, and hoisted my backpack onto my shoulders once more. It was nice and quiet when I disembarked, and I was grateful for the moment of peace. After a short walk, I arrived at the brick-walled entrance to Generator Venice (which is still one of the best hostels I’ve stayed at) and checked in.
The room had three single beds and one bunk bed. An American couple (who barely talked, even to each other) had the bunk bed. A young Korean guy (who didn’t speak English) was in the single bed on the right, and the contents of a purple backpack were haphazardly spilled onto the bed on the left. I noted a pretty hat and some pink razors on the nightstand and deduced that our other roommate was probably a young woman.
I unpacked my bag into the locker under the middle bed, put some sheets on, took a quick shower, and promptly fell onto the warm, comfortable mattress. I remembered to put some earplugs in which, as it turns out, was fortunate. The thunderous snores coming from the top bunk were muffled into almost inaudible snorts as I drifted off to sleep.
Excerpt from my travel journal, dated August 14th, 2016:
I’m sitting at a cafe right on the bank of the canal as I write this. It’s a cool morning (17 degrees) and I can hear gulls, waves, and church bells. It’s giving me chills! I’m having breakfast: a Nutella croissant and black coffee.
How is it that I’m here? Somehow it still feels like a wonderful dream. I’m writing these things to prove to myself when I’m back in Dubai that I was actually here. How good God is!
Giudecca is right across the canal from San Marco, and I had a gorgeous view from where I was sitting. It was early on a Sunday, and the day before the Feast of the Assumption of Mary, one of the biggest Roman Catholic holidays in Europe, so there were barely any people around. I smiled as I sipped my coffee and bit into the warm, soft, flaky croissant.
I went back to the hostel after breakfast and found an empty room. The bed on the right had been stripped, so I guessed the Korean guy had already checked out. I looked out the window and realized our room had a view of the top of Santa Maria Della Salute, a 17th-century church. I took the opportunity to grab my sketchbook and pencils and draw while I was alone.
Just as I was finishing up, a girl who looked to be in her 20s breezed into the room. “Oh, hello!” she said, smiling.
We exchanged pleasantries and I learned that her name was Liz and that she was from Australia. She had been backpacking around Europe for the past month, and we exchanged stories about our adventures.
“Oooh, are you sketching?” she said, seeing the book in my lap. I told her I hadn’t done it in a while and was enjoying getting to do it more during my holidays.
“Wow, that is so cool. Let me just go take a shower…I haven’t been back here since last night!”
By the time she was done, I had put all my stuff away and was getting ready to explore the city.
“Gosh, I couldn’t sleep here…did you hear Shrek’s snoring?! He was like, ROOOOARRRR!” She dramatically fell backward onto her bed, wet hair and all.
“Ohhhh my gosh. I am such a slut,” she exclaimed, “Last night I had sex with this American guy in his hostel room…with five other people around us!”
“Oh, wow,” was all I could say, grinning sheepishly.
“I am such a slut,” she said again, “I just came from Capri, met a guy there too, and had sex on the beach. Ugggh.”
We chatted some more, I told her about my plans for the day, and she asked to see my itinerary (which was in a neat little Numbers sheet and colour-coded by activity).
“Wow you are so organized,” she said rolling over onto her side to look at me, “What do you do for work anyway?”
“Me? Oh, I work for a church in Dubai,” I said, slinging my satchel over my shoulder.
There was an awful, long pause as she stared at me (probably wondering if I was joking). Finally, she said, “I’m so sorry! I’m going to get my life together, I promise!” That made me laugh and laugh, and I told her not to worry – who am I to judge?
Excerpt from my travel journal (from later that evening):
I got lost in the bowels of Venice.
I started out checking off all the tourist spots: Rialto Bridge, The Doge’s Palace, the Bridge of Sighs, Basilica San Marco (and the piazza in front of it).
I was tired of looking down at my phone to check Google Maps, though, and decided I wanted to be lost, or at least just find my own way around. After all, Venice is small enough to explore in a day.
I rode the Vaporetto all the way around the Grand Canal and just hopped off whenever I felt like exploring the areas near a stop.
When I got hungry, I stopped at Dal Moro’s in a tiny alley. I took my box of fusilli diavola and ate it while sitting on a little bridge. I waved at tourists passing under the bridge in gondolas and remembered something someone had told me about Venice: “Don’t go there alone. You will feel lonely!”
I smiled as I realized just how content I was to be shoveling spicy pasta in my face and watching the boats glide by.
After my lunch, I walked around some more and found myself in a lush garden. I sat in the shade and watched people walking by. I read a few more chapters of the book I brought.
As the sun started to go down, I started walking back to San Marco and got some gelato (mascarpone with cookies) on the way.
The little streets of Venice are a stage for many talented musicians, and I enjoyed stopping every so often to just sit and listen. Two young violinists played a particularly beautiful duet and people tossed coins into their cases, in front of a sign that said “Need money for university. Thank you.”
I finally made it back to San Marco, which was beautifully lit at night, and allowed myself to get lost in the music in the square. It was late when I made it back onto the Vaporetto – I’d lost track of time because I was so caught up in the harmony of the musical strings.
Romance doesn’t require a romantic partner, just an acute awareness of the beauty around you.
And happiness doesn’t require perfection, just a heart of gratitude for every joyful, challenging, painful, inspiring, terrifying, maddening moment in this irreplaceable gift of life.
