A reunion with Venice

About a week ago, we decided it was time to buy plane tickets to Istanbul. Turkey was one of the only places we had decided to visit before leaving the US. Now, it was just a matter of where the cheapest flights to Istanbul departed from. Turns out the answer was Venice. And I can’t lie, the chance to return to the beautiful city where I spent three months during college, this time with Meghan, was too enticing to pass up. So after an early bus ride from Ljubljana to Mestre, the city on the mainland just outside of Venice, and another bus ride to Piazza Roma in Venice proper, we found ourselves standing in front of Pizza Al Volo in Campo Santa Margherita…and the memories came flooding back.

In the summer and fall of 2002, after my junior year at UC San Diego, I traveled to Europe. I spent three months backpacking around a number of different countries, and three months living in Venice, a city I’ve had a mild obsession with ever since junior high. Despite the fact that Venice is mostly a city of tourists, by staying in an apartment, bartending in a pub, taking Venitian rowing lessons, developing daily routines, and making and spending time with close friends, I felt a little more like a local. The experience, overall, was one of the most transformative of my life at the time, and I cherish my memories from Venice.

I took a month-long Italian language course when I first arrived in Venice, and the majority of my close friendships were developed in this class. The language school was right next to Campo Santa Margherita, and virtually every day for lunch, we’d head to Pizza Al Volo for, what I remember as, the greatest pizza ever made. A big slice of thin, Italian pizza with the perfect ratio of sauce, cheese, and toppings would be re-heated in their pizza oven to crisp up the bottom to just the right level of crunch and chewiness. It was a must do, but it took me by surprise when Meghan and I had to request our slices be re-heated in the oven. And, the pizza itself, while still delicious, didn’t quite live up to what I remembered. Of course, it’s been 13 years of culinary adventures in the meantime, and perhaps my expectations were just a bit too high 🙂

Luckily, this was one of the only experiences that didn’t live up to my memories. From the narrow, winding streets with colorful laundry strung outside second floor windows, to the small dinghies tied up along the canals, to the glittering reflection of the “street” lights that come up out of the Grand Canal, Venice was as beautiful and romantic as I remember it. We took a late night Vaporetto (water bus) ride down the Grand Canal, and though the price-increase since 2002 was disappointing, the gorgeous views of the palaces and the magic of Venice at night was certainly still present in abundance. We also had a fun experience trying to find my favorite bridge in Venice. Unfortunately, I have no photo of the bridge, so all we had to go on was my very vague sense of where it might be and our memories of a painting of the bridge, that Lizzie, my amazing girlfriend while I was in Venice, painted for me. The painting is currently boxed up in a storage unit with all the rest of our stuff, but the following picture may be it. I particularly remember the light of the lantern reflecting off the canal under the bridge.

Meghan often jokes with/chides me about my lack of picture taking when traveling…and for good reason. During my six months in Europe in 2002, I think I took a total of 50 pictures. It’s not that I don’t want to take pictures, and I certainly enjoy having them and looking back at them later. My mind usually just doesn’t think about taking them. And given how bad my memory is for most things, it’s a shame I never got into the habit. So on our first day in Venice, we tried to right this wrong. What follows are the obligatory photos of me in front of 1) Pizza Al Volo, 2) the Irish pub where I worked, it changed names (and owners) in 2009, RIP Fiddler’s Elbow, and 3) the door to my old apartment near Campo San Stefano. 

The bartender at the Irish Pub remembered the old managers I had worked for, and kindly gave Meghan and I the employee discount on our drinks. It felt great to sit inside the pub and reminisce on what I still consider the best job I’ve ever had.

We also visited Olandese Volante, the bar where one of my good friends had worked with a hysterical cast of local characters that became one of our favorite watering holes. Unfortunately, I think the location, near a main tourist thoroughfare, may have been its undoing, and now it looks like just a tourist-trap restaurant without an Italian in sight (not even working there). Since this was Meghan’s first time in Venice, we joined the tourist parade and made the obligatory trip to St. Mark’s square. Meghan was blown away by the scope and grandeur of the square, and after seeing many of the enormous, ornate churches on this small, island city, one can’t help but be amazed at the wealth of the old Venetian empire.

Over the course of this one, long day, we retraced the memories from my three month stay 13 years ago. On our second day, we explored some unfamiliar areas to me via an excellent walking tour with a local guide. The tour highlights included learning some of the fascinating history of Venetian Gothic architecture, walking through some wonderful, un-touristy neighborhoods, and taking a 2-Euro traghetto/gondola ride across the Grand Canal (definitely the cheapest way to ride a gondola in Venice…of course, it’s only 70 cents for locals).

While another memorable pizza place (tastier than Pizza Al Volo) necessitated our attendance for dinner the first night, our second night Meghan was pretty set on trying black, squid-ink pasta: a first for both of us. It was a comedy of errors and a couple miles of walking trying to find a restaurant that served that dish, had a table available, and had decent online reviews. Hungry, tired, wet from rain, and having our fourth restaurant attempt foiled, we were almost resigned to getting a doner kebab, the ubiquitous fast-food in apparently all of central Europe. Finally, we passed a nice looking place with an open table and plopped down exhausted. We were very pleased with our experience: the squid-ink pasta was definitely one for the books. It tasted like nothing we had ever had before…and we loved it!

Overall, Venice was as amazing as I remember it, and the magical feeling of the city came back almost at once. I felt very blessed to be able to share these places and moments from my past with Meghan, making new memories along the way.