A canceled flight from Paris found us in Venice a day behind schedule and a little delirious with sleep deprivation. With some impromptu travel magic on Ruth’s part (rerouting us by way of a scenic detour through Italy’s northern region) we arrived at long last on the afternoon train from Milan.
Venice appeared to float on the lagoon, the water gleaming like a mirage as the sun began to dip in the sky.
Disembarking we took our bearings. Deterred from water travel by the throngs of tourists at the foot of the Grand Canal, we set off down the narrow cobbled streets in what we surmised was the direction of our B&B. It didn’t take long for us to realize that traveling by foot may have not been the best choice. As our baggage bumped jarringly over the uneven stones behind us we squeezed between the elbowing hoards. Presently the streets became a little less crowded and we entered a more local neighborhood.
Charming outdoor markets, romantically arched bridges and countless gelato purveyors marked our way. We wound through a maze of streets sometimes so incredibly narrow that they could be better defined as a long dark hallways but somehow managed not to loose ourselves arriving at our Bed & Breakfast.
We enjoyed a cold spritz by the canal, taking in the surroundings and relaxing before settling in and unpacking. In our experience you are never far from a drink in Venice, as locals seem to subsist almost entirely on prosecco and fish.
We were immediately won over by the charm and warmth of this beautiful Venetian home and were made to feel like family. The neighborhood itself hosted a mostly local crowd, a very welcome haven in the midst of a city bursting at the seems with tourists.
Laying down for just a moment was enough to tempt us to stay in for the night, we dragged ourselves from the temptation very begrudgingly but after we rallied we were glad we did.