A gelato a day...keep the scale away!: Rain, rain go away

Mix one “City of Water” with one, rainy weather forecast and what do you get? One very wet weekend.

Even with all of the rain though, Venice was still quite miraculous. Zero cars. Zero streets. Only canals, boats, and water, water everywhere. It’s a magical place. (For some reason “magical” is the only word that seems appropriate right now... Possibly because today is the day that I finally get to see Harry Potter? Si, certo! This anxious and impatient nerd simply cannot wait any longer.)

As much as I love a good, kayak-ride and water view, there is no way in the world that I could ever actually live in Venice. There were far too many instances over the course of the weekend--when my friend became sick, when it got cold outside, when it torrentially down-poured--when I became downright frustrated at not being able to hail a cab ride home.

The island of Murano should be
regarded as "Pandora Bead Heaven"

Yeah, the rain put a real damper on our weekend: Boo hoo we were left hopping from fancy jewelry store to jewelry store, awing over all of the gorgeous, Venetian glass for two days. I was in heaven; my cash-flow in hell. Fortunately, I escaped the island before spending alllllll of my life savings. (Though I did manage to treat myself to a little Murano bling along the way!)

We ventured over to St. Mark’s Square on Sunday amidst the icy rainfall. Our raincoats were no match for the immense precipitation... Neither were the silver-and-gold flats that I foolishly chose as my Venice-touring-footwear.

The poor, little guys are goners. My host-mother, Sylvia, saw them perched pathetically beneath the heater today and uttered “Oh what a shame!” I just don’t want to believe that they are gone. Sadly, I guess if other people have begun to notice their shabbiness then I should probably just toss them... Mom, I’m in the market for some new shoes, I hope you have the DSW-trip planned.

Anyhow, by mid-morning when we reached St. Mark’s, we were greeted by “aqcua alta” or “high water.” This means that the giant piazza that is usually filled with tourists and pigeons (schifoso) was instead filled with tourists on bridged-pathways over the inches of canal water flooding the square. Hoping for the opportunity to see the inside of the church, we knew that we only had two choices: (A) swim there or (B) purchase something called “Flippers.”

We opted for the latter and spent ten Euro a piece on the most absurd plastic, slip-on booties that anyone has ever seen. What a joke. We jumped into the flashy yellow slippers, tightened the strings around our legs, and waded our way to St. Mark’s--quite fashionably if I do say so myself.