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Published: August 19th 2006
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Meolo was flat and hot. The incessant steam clung to everything with sticky fingers-as even the cotton bed sheets were hot and humid. The kids at camp were obedient angels. Ivan and Laurela took great are of me in their home: we ate fresh from the Nonna’s garden and would end the night with country bike rides; 4 story abandoned brick villas littered the flat expanse of soy and corn fields. The week in Meolo was mellow.
And then in Venice for 13 hours: i tried not to take it all too seriously.
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