The City of Water

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Our first excursion was planned by the Fachoshule for early March to Venice, Italy. Just in time for Carnevale di Venezia, the annual Carnival of Venice known for its unique masks. Each delicately painted to display intricate details, upholding a certain standard of this old tradition started back during the Renaissance.

We left our apartments in the evening, putting our ETA in the early hours of AM. Our bus was nice and included a restroom. It was certainly the number one necessity that provided us with a safe environment for getting rid of the byproduct of alcohol, we brought along, once it went through our system. We all knew the drill and turned the back of our bus into yet another session of the common room festivities. Three or four hours into it, people started to leave, hoping to find their seats to pass out in. The only people left were the ones from my school. But after yet another beer spill, the already horribly looking cards that have been wet before were finally deemed unusable by the group and abandoned under the table. There was nothing left to do but sleep.

The City of Water was everything I imagined and more. The canals, the narrow streets, the fact that there were no cars or other vehicles within the city limits. As they are forced to be parked outside of its ancient borders in huge parking garages meant to accommodate a large number of tourists and their vehicles. The city was filled with small shops and restaurants, coffee houses, numerous churches, and cathedrals. A place out of a fairy tale, I thought, very romantic.

When we arrived, the whole city was still sleeping. Coffee shops and bakeries were just starting to open up. We were there before the flock of tourists would fill up these same streets just hours later. This gave us an excellent opportunity to take some very good photos without crowds of people in the background. We split from the main group, and my friends and I roamed the empty streets of Venice. Imagining to be time travelers, seeing thousands of years of history happen before our eyes. I took lots of photographs since I thought everything was so “picture worthy.” This included much more than your standard sites of interest, like architecture and statues. From "No Nazi" graffiti to Communist Club sign in an alleyway, I was capturing it all. Taking Lucy in a place like this would be one hell of a ride!

Closer to noon, when the streets were already packed with tourists, we decided to take a break and try out some authentic Italian pizza. We all loved pizza back home, and this was our chance to try the “real” thing, without the American influences. My friend spotted a restaurant a few streets back, so we decided to turn around and give it a shot. We all ordered our own large pizza with a large beer to go with. Waiting impatiently for the food to arrive, I wished we ordered an appetizer. When it arrived and we could finally dig into our pizzas, I immediately noticed a serious lack of meat toppings that I expected to be there. The crust and cheese melt was indeed good. But I, being a carnivore and needing the energy to continue walking these endless curvy streets and alleys, was not satisfied with my lunch. Besides, it is not like it was a cheap joint either, I paid well over what that topping-less cheese bread cost them to make. Then I thought, calories are calories, calming down so not to become the grumpy asshole everybody in a group hates.

The rest of the day was rather dull. It was very crowded, and we were lacking the energy we had in the morning. We visited some more historical sites, picked from our guidebook, before settling down for a refreshing beverage next to where the breakdancers were setting up their cardboard stage. Breakdancing often reminded me of the early days of Hip-Hop and growing up in the 90s. It was popular in Moscow when I was young, but I was too shy to attempt to learn it. Fearing older kids and humiliation. Street performance is a lost art in our society. It still exists in Europe though. Where it has a place of its own, among all other things societies leave behind for the new and “improved”.

As the day wound down, we carried on to our rendezvous point to meet with the rest of the group and to find our bus. We stopped for a souvenir papier-mâché masks and witnessed a robbery take place in front of us. A thief got chased down by some of the shopkeepers. There was a lot of screaming and shouting, but I am still unsure of the outcome.

On the ride back to Austria, nobody drank. Everyone was tired and most people slept. The bus, once again, was cutting through the night at a steady pace. I was reading another book by Charles Bukowski. Getting tired of using my reading light, I looked up around the bus. The only people who were not out consisted of a Finnish couple, their sexy friend, a gay Canadian guy, and his fat lesbian friend with a crew cut.

When I saw the Finnish girl, I immediately decided to make friends with the group regardless of the fact I had to deal with others there. She was very beautiful in a traditional sense and reminded me that of a Slavic girl. The ratio was in my favor, so I moved up and sat in an empty spot next to them.

I chatted them up. We played cards and talked about Venice. About the smell of the water mixed with sewer from the buildings into city’s numerous canals and waterways. I explained it was because of the weather, still being fairly cold, keeping the smell down. If they came back during the summer, I assured, a foul smell would be apparent. We were lucky to have visited Venice as it is slowly sinking into the water its built on and will be an underwater Atlantis someday.

I was shocked to find out that one of them knew about Slipknot and even liked my home state’s band. There were many similarities between Finnish and Russian people. For example, saunas were a popular social activity in Finland, as banias in Russia. Both have to deal with a good amount of snow in the winter, so they drink to stay warm and also sane.

After that trip, I was in the green with the girl. I ditched my Nigerian bittie to be with her. We had a decent but strange relationship that ended during a couples vacation in Barcelona closer to the end of the semester. She was a bit older than me, but that didn't matter. I still think about the great times we had together.

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