This is true in a broad sense, of course; the place is completely surreal. Everything about it is hazy and magical, vivid and strange. It’s a city built on water, a city sinking amidst its own paved alleyways and winding canals.
But more specifically, it’s a place of my dreams too, a place I have wanted to visit since reading The Thief Lord in fourth grade. I have longed to wander between the walls at dusk, be surrounded by gondolas by day. It was one of the places on this trip that I was most looking forward to. And it didn’t disappoint.
Sure, there were tourists everywhere. We had to avoid main roads at some points simply because pedestrian traffic was so freaking frustrating. But around the late afternoon, everyone disappeared. And we had the quiet eeriness and beauty to ourselves. Sure, there wasn’t much to do once we had “been there, done that.” But it was perfect for the brief period of time that we did get to stay there.
And plus, our hotel was on the beach.
Boat taxis, Peggy Guggenheim, an island full of glass workshops, the beginning of our gelato crawl… Venice, Italy, ladies and gents.