Here comes the rain again

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(Venerdi) 15 Agosto- Ferragosto

There comes a time in everyone’s trip where one regrets ever stepping foot on foreign ground. It’s only somewhat irrational, but natural, as something will always go wrong with at least one aspect of your trip. This weekend I had wanted to go home, immediately. Murphy’s Law was getting the best of me.

Friday was my last day in Venice, and I had wanted to go to the beach on the nearby island of Lido. I was disappointed that Cheryl was too busy to join me, but I persevered, knowing that the next day would be a long day of traveling to Sicily, and I wanted a day to relax.

In the three weeks I had been in Venice, it had rained only once. Until Friday; I was out shopping when it hit, and after waiting for it to subside, fruitlessly, I sucked it up and walked home. By the time I got to my doorstep ( after, naturally, having been spot by Matteo looking like a drowned river rat), the rain stopped. And then it started again. There went my day at the beach.

Cheryl and I had a nice dinner planned for my last evening- she was going to take me to a nice local spot where I could sample lots of Venetian specialties, such as those wonderful olives wrapped in sardines (really good), cold octopus salad, a whipped cod spread over bread, etc, etc. Afterwards, we killed some time and did a wee pub-crawl as I waited for Matteo to be off work- he had invited me to go dancing that night. Under the safety of an outdoor awning (still raining), Cheryl and I met a very nice American dentist who was anxiously awaiting his girlfriend’s arrival the next day. He excitedly told us that he had arranged a surprise trip because he was planning to propose to her the evening she arrived, and he asked our help for finding the most romantic spot. Despite our own single states, Cheryl and I couldn’t deny his gushing romanticism, so we took him for a tour of the most romantic spots, and they devised their strategy.

An hour before the gelateria closed, we headed to Campo San Stefano to have an espresso at Matteo’s place; I was all nervous excitement. When we walked into the campo, however, my heart sank. It was closed. No sign of life. No Matteo. We talked to the waiters across the campo, who were also closing up, and they informed us that due to the rain and lack of customers, everyone was closing early that night. There went my hot date, and any chance of saying goodbye to Matteo.

We now had three hours to kill before I had to drag my 50 lb. suitcase a quarter of a mile to the Allilaguna stop at San Marco’s - the boat to the airport left at 3:40 am. I had decided not to sleep, since I was afraid I wouldn’t wake up, or that I would be in even worse shape if I was teased with a mere 2 hours of sleep.

Thankfully Cheryl and the dentist kept me company, at least until we sent the dentist off to his hotel, fearfully he would be lacking energy for his big day tomorrow. Sweet, sweet Cheryl made me tea and kept me company until 3, when she helped me drag that suitcase, in the pouring rain, to San Marco’s. When we finally arrived, we were soaking wet, despite one awkward umbrella between us, and the wind was sharp against our chilled skin. The boat arrived 15 minutes later, and I said my goodbyes to Cheryl, who promised she would go explain to Matteo why I hadn’t shown up for our date.

I do hope that dentist fared better than I.

I left Venice under the dark cold cover of night, exhausted, disappointed, and hopeful for Sicily. But the trial wasn’t over yet.

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Photos

Raining in San Marco's
A blustery day in Venice

Last meal
Lots of Venetian fish specialties...