Shifting Gears: Into the North of Italy

Kindness Revisited

Walking into a cafe yesterday morning, I was trying to figure out the flow. Do I order first? Do I pay first? Where does the line begin? Who has ordered and who is waiting to order? These are the small things we take for granted in a world in which we know the flow. I figured out that paying first was the path, ordered some cappuccinos and cafes for our group and stood at the bar top to waiting for whatever was the next step in the process.

The barista asked the others waiting with me what they wanted to order (at least that’s what I thought was happening) and a gentleman standing next to me, motioned and spoke up saying I was next (at least that’s what I think he said). I smiled and thanked him warmly, then proceeded to butcher my request in my broken Italian. Turning back to the kind local, I said, “I’m trying.” He smiled and went about his business.

Leaving the cafe, we walked back to our car to discover that someone had taken a key down the side of this brand new BMW X7. It was parked properly. It was sitting in front of a park where a young mom was pushing her little girl on a swing and talking baby talk in Italian to her (some words/sounds like “weeeee….and woooo” are pretty much international). After so much kindness, the vandalism felt like a cruel violation.

Meeting up with Silvia a few minutes later, we showed her the damage. “Oh, I am sorry,” she said, as if it was our car. She added, “Sometimes the envy is an ugly thing.” It was a curious, and damning, statement about human nature. The sins of our fallen humanity are similar in a language. Silvia and Eduardo (who had now joined us) brushed it off and showered us with their own versions of Italian kindness. We took some pictures, hugged, said goodbye, and Eduardo drove us to the train station.

Boarding our train and hour later, we found ourselves in the middle of scrum of travelers trying to cram themselves and their luggage into this train car simultaneously. Imagine boarding an airplane from both ends at the same time as every other person with ALL of your luggage that needed to be jammed into overheads and in between seats. Getting to our seats, we discovered that the previous travelers had spilled wine all over both seats (at least that’s what I think it was.) A kind woman across the aisle offered us a wipe and we were able to clean it up.

Italy travelers tip: less is more. Numerous people came onto that train with massive luggage and then tried to get it into overhead binds. If you cannot lift you bag over your head, it is too big. I helped some others get their luggage into bins and was incredibly grateful we limited ourselves to bags that can be carried-on to a plane. Whether it’s the squeezing onto a train or dragging the suitcase across the cobblestone streets of some medieval city, know that whatever you bring will become an anchor, true baggage, making your travel more difficult the bigger and heavier it is.

On to Venice

We had a two hour train ride to Venice. Our train car was jammed with people and bags but pretty comfortable. Moving north through the Italian countryside, the verdant hills and valleys of Tuscany were replaced with a flatter, more deciduous-looking collection of trees and vegetation. “This looks more like Indiana,” quipped my dad. We still passed a few walled village on hilltops but the landscape changed quickly, eventually yielding to views of the Italian Alps in the distance.

Looking on the map, I could see Austria, Germany, and Switzerland along the other side of the Alps. Munich is just 543 km north of Venice. We had a few stops along the way but the journey was smooth and without incident.

Arriving in Venice, we felt like we had entered another country. The Lucia training station is the last stop across the lagoon to the historic city center of Venice. We’ll learn more about Venice on our tour today. Walking out of the terminal, we found ourselves in a chaotic flow of humanity on a stone platform between the station and Canal Grande, the main thoroughfare. We were greeted by an official in a bright vest and license hanging around his, neck asking if we needed a taxi. Twenty five euros later, we and our luggage, were moved 50 feet to the waiting water taxis. Newbie visitor’s mistake.

The water taxi was expensive but interesting. Gondolas were all over the place and the flow of boats through the grand and increasingly narrower canals wasn’t as frenetic as the motorcycles in Naples but it was quite the scene. It was a good way to start to get oriented and our driver (captain?) got us to the hotel to pick up the key and then on our 2 bedroom apartment. The buildings along the canal looked pretty rough, time and moisture has done much to blemish otherwise interesting architecture.

One quick observation about Venice and the service people we’ve encountered, they are much more direct in asking for tips and not shy in what they charge. In this way, Venice feels more touristy than other places we’ve been where tips seem less expected and perhaps more appreciated. That is an initial observation and perhaps unfair. My general approach to tipping has been: it needs to be earned.

Thinking of Home

I had my first check-in call with my team yesterday – truly a gift. We are very blessed to be able to step away, knowing things are in good hands. We have FaceTimed our grandchildren and calls home are always bittersweet. The joy of seeing the familiar and the loved warms the soul, but it also tugs on the heart. That too is a gift. Looking at pictures and talking of home, Sally and I both agreed that we were feeling it last night.

Dinner was a simple affair just down the way (which is a cobblestone pathway running along a canal, complete with those iconic arching bridges over the waterways. Darkness made the mysterious city seem a bit ominous, with winding streets, towering buildings, limited lighting, and people appearing and disappearing in and out of alleys at every corner. I’m sure we’ll get more comfortable with Venice as we get to know her. Today we’ll explore the heart of the city, including visiting the tomb of St. Mark, his remains stolen out of Alexandria and relocated here centuries ago. Stealing and relocating remains seems to have been a major thing in Italy’s history.