I'm sitting in our B&B room in Agerola, high above Amalfi, as I write this morning, looking out at the clouds that sit on the terrace, with the windows wide open desperately hoping that the underwear and socks and tee shirts we washed by hand yesterday morning will somehow dry. Ha. Faint hope, I think.
I will say that on the first night the emptiness took us by surprise. We napped late in the afternoon, thinking we'd arise and, in an hour or so, join the laughing and chatting people enjoying an aperitif in the sidewalk cafes below our windows. Ha. When we finally made our way downstairs, we were shocked that everything was shut, locked up tighter than a drum. "What the...?" Our host Cesare had said that Murano was very quiet in the evening, but we didn't expect it to be dead. "Never mind," we said, "We'll find something open." And we did. We ate in a different restaurant each night, had some very good meals, and each evening enjoyed a beautiful, almost ethereal, stroll back to our room at the Murano Palace. With the streets to ourselves, the light of a full moon reflecting on the canals, and the occasional church bell, I kid you not, it was so lovely I thought I might be dreaming.
The next day we took the water bus to Venice. Wow. The crowds were overwhelming. And a bit off-putting. We booked a "skip-the-line" ticket to tour Basilica San Marco, and almost didn't make it on time. Because of high tides and strong winds, the square was ankle deep in water. We tried skirting the water only to encounter crowds of other tourists trying to do the same thing. So there was nothing for it but to pull off our sneakers and socks, roll up our pants, and wade. Funny how facing adversity together (or inconvenience, I should say) can make people convivial, isn't it? The other waders we met laughed at us, and we at them, and at the more squeamish who were trying to sidle along the edges and not get wet. By the time we made it to the end of the square, the boards had been set up and we waited patiently in line to shuffle along them, trying to stare down those who tried to butt into line. What is it about some people who think that lines are not for them? Hubby calls it "obliviousness," this inability to understand that we're all affected by whatever is happening. I call it the "but it's me" trait. The idea that some people know there are rules and queues, and still think "but it's me and I have to be somewhere important." I love the attitude of these wedding guests, below, who were still laughing as they waded.
Inside Saint Mark's we rented audio guides, which didn't work properly. Why does this always happen to us? So we simply wandered and looked. Later we found a small cafe for lunch, after briefly sitting down in another one, checking the prices, and leaving once Hubby had recovered from his near coronary. It was much more to our liking to sit in a cheap cafe in a side street, eat pasta, and watch the people. We saw one bride and groom, with a sweet little girl in her own pink wedding finery, arrive at the gondola stop, wait, and, after checking their map, decide that they were in the wrong place and hurry away. You can see them consulting their map in the shot below, with just a glimpse of the little girl in pink between them. I do hope they found where they were supposed to be.
Later we took an interesting walking tour of the small streets and piazzas, and then squeezed into a very crowded water bus back to Murano. Once there, we breathed a sigh of relief that we'd decided to book into the Murano Palace. Away from the crowds. And the lines. Venice is amazing. Other worldly. But I cannot say the we exactly enjoyed our day there. On our final day, instead of returning to Venice as planned, we took the boat to Burano, watched a traditional lacemaker, chatted to a lady in a shop about the challenges of trying to keep this ancient art alive, strolled, and soaked up the ambiance. I'm glad that our last day was lovely, and not fraught with jostling crowds. I want the memory of pink houses in the sunshine, lapping water, and bobbing gondolas to be what remains in my mind when I think of Venice.
Since Venice, we've been in Florence, toodled through mountain passes and open "campos," and are now on the Amalfi Coast. I've much more to say about Italy (quel surprise) but time and sketchy internet signals may interfere. We've a little over a week to go before we head back to Canada, and my ramblings and philosophizing may have to wait until I'm ensconced in my little den back home. I will say I have developed a great love of church bells. Especially of the tinny, clanging variety. Hubby has said more than once that he thinks I've enough atmospheric videos of town squares at dusk with ringing bells in the background. The shot below is of the old town of Vieste where we had one of our best ever dinner experiences. But more on that later.
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| View of Amalfi taken as we walked the steps down from Agerola |
Yesterday we hung them on the outdoor dryer on the terrace and made our way down to Amalfi on foot, in sunshine and heat. That's the view of Amalfi, above, about halfway down. We returned in clouds and rain, to our laundry as wet as when we left. With some weilding of the hairdryer, and a few hours in the window, I remain hopeful that I won't have to enact Hubby's canoe camping solution. (i.e. letting body heat dry them.) Ick. It may work in a pinch in the middle of Algonquin Park, but I've no desire to wriggle my way to Positano tomorrow in wet underwear. Okay. Maybe that's too much information?
Anyhoo, Hubby has gone walk-about in the rain this morning, and I'm having a lazy morning to myself. The first since we landed in Venice two weeks ago.
Ah, Venice. Venice was wonderful. Water, lots of water, and crowds, and emptiness. But, let me explain.
We didn't actually stay in Venice, but on the smaller island of Murano, where the traditional glass makers live. We loved it there. Our room in our small B&B hotel had a balcony overlooking the canal from which we watched the boats chug by early each morning, delivering everything from toilet paper and bottled water to vegetables and wine to the various shops and restaurants. Murano was right up our canal, so to speak. Beautiful, quiet, and practically empty after 6 pm. That's the view from our balcony below.
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| Afternoon view from our room at the Murano Palace |
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| Moonlight on the canal in Murano |
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| Wading wedding guests in Saint Mark's Square |
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| Bride and groom consulting their map in Venice. |
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| Lovely quiet Burano. |
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| Matching my scarf to Burano colours |
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| Dusk in Vieste. Trust me, there are Bells. |
Right now, as I'm writing, I can hear the little bell in the square here in Agerola; "the clock upbraids me with a waste of time" as Olivia says in Twelfth Night. The rain has stopped. Maybe my clothes are dry. And Hubby awaits. After all, I can't sit all day long, now can I?
There's much more to come on Italy anon. But for now, arrivederci, amici miei
Linking up this week with Thursday Favourite Things and Saturday Share Link-up.