Wednesday, May 18, 2005
La Serenissima
[tags: _travel]
We came in the dead of night, after a long and tiring trek across London, into Stansted and out again; flying through grey cloud towards Treviso airport. Then a bus ride through suburban streets punctuated by neon signs advertising the "F.A.R.T. Club" and Eastern European hookers winking from gas stations and streetcorners. We came in the dead of night, over the long bridge from Mestre and into Venice.
Instantly as we left the bus station on foot, the air changed, the night became clearer and quieter, and the only sounds we heard were footsteps. The glassy waters of Venice at night are even more serene and beautiful than I had hoped for. Van was just as giddy as I was; the exhaustion seemed to fall away from our shoulders.
We eventually found our (extortionate but conveniently placed) hotel and checked in before heading out again to have a drink and a look round. Other backpackers wandered past, some of them more than once, trying to find a hostel on the island in vain. This was the weekend of the voga longa (one of the largest of 100+ regattas held in Venice each year) - there were simply no rooms to be had for love or money. Silently I thanked the stars that we were able to reserve only a week in advance.
In the chill night air, we made our way to the Grand Canal and took photos of the passing vaporetti. Past midnight, and still an occasional flash of cameras from the water taxis. The locals, sensibly, had all gone to sleep, leaving us tourists to walk with the ghosts of the city.
We came in the dead of night, after a long and tiring trek across London, into Stansted and out again; flying through grey cloud towards Treviso airport. Then a bus ride through suburban streets punctuated by neon signs advertising the "F.A.R.T. Club" and Eastern European hookers winking from gas stations and streetcorners. We came in the dead of night, over the long bridge from Mestre and into Venice.
Instantly as we left the bus station on foot, the air changed, the night became clearer and quieter, and the only sounds we heard were footsteps. The glassy waters of Venice at night are even more serene and beautiful than I had hoped for. Van was just as giddy as I was; the exhaustion seemed to fall away from our shoulders.
We eventually found our (extortionate but conveniently placed) hotel and checked in before heading out again to have a drink and a look round. Other backpackers wandered past, some of them more than once, trying to find a hostel on the island in vain. This was the weekend of the voga longa (one of the largest of 100+ regattas held in Venice each year) - there were simply no rooms to be had for love or money. Silently I thanked the stars that we were able to reserve only a week in advance.
In the chill night air, we made our way to the Grand Canal and took photos of the passing vaporetti. Past midnight, and still an occasional flash of cameras from the water taxis. The locals, sensibly, had all gone to sleep, leaving us tourists to walk with the ghosts of the city.
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