My First Non-Work Day in Venice

* This post was written yesterday in Word and just now pasted into Blogger.

Hello all,

I just ate a wonderful dinner of fresh bread, tomatoes and mozzarella, and I am now sipping on a half liter of Coke Light (which is far superior to Diet Coke), watching the sun go down outside my hostel. (Insert contented sigh here.)

Before I start this post, I would like to reference my initial promise to your regarding this blog. I said that my goal was to give you snapshots of my life here in Venice, and I fully intend to do this still. My thinking, however, is that I need to orient you before I can dramatically shorten my posts. With that being said, I will be writing three more long posts. The first is the one you are about to read, about my first full day in the city. The second will be about my first day at work (tomorrow), and my third will be about my apartment. After that, expect shorter posts. I’m not writing the next great novel for you all, as much as I love you.

So, when I left you all yesterday, I told you I would be telling you the story of my new friend. Intrigued? Read on.

Christie

After I got settled into my hostel yesterday night, I realized I was starving. With one basic human need (shelter) met, I decided to satisfy another: I went in search for food. Because I slept the whole time I was in Zurich, I didn’t eat anything. (Kevin just shook his head in disgust, I’m sure.) I had two food goals for my first day in Italia: eat a pizza smothered in seasonal vegetables and drink a few glasses of wine from a cask. I succeeded in both of these tasks; you can continue reading now without suspense.

So, now that my parents, grandparents and Kevin know that I did not starve, I will tell you how I met my new friend. I set out on the Fondamenta Zitelle, a boardwalk of sorts along the edge of Isola Giudecca, to find some pizza and vino. All of the smaller, cheaper spots had closed after lunch and never reopened, so my choices were limited. After walking for a minute or so, a young woman in sweats, tennis shoes and a bright pink scarf stepped out of an alley in front of me. I began to follow her. She looked safe and knowledgeable, and the color of the sky was darkening by the minute. After a minute or so, I realized that she was doing the same thing I was: walking up to the restaurant windows, glancing at the menu, and continuing on her way. I made another assumption about her at this point. She was hungry too. At one point, she stopped long enough in front of a café for me to walk up to her without running or being too creepy. I moved in towards the menu too, and said, “Hey, are you staying at the hostel?”

She stared at me blankly for a split second, so I asked her if she spoke English. She laughed, apologized, and said she did, in fact, speak English. The subsequent reaction made me feel a lot better than her initial blank stare. From there we conferred and decided we both wanted wine, and I would eat pizza while she had some dessert. We turned around, and went back along the Zitelle to choose a restaurant.

While we were walking back along the Fondamente, we began to talk about ourselves. Her name is Christie, and she is an artist originally from California who now lives in Colorado. She had been in Venice for a month doing a residency at a local university. I was, of course, very interested at this point. She was pleasant and engaging; I hadn’t spoken to anyone in English for over 40 hours, and I was so happy to be having a simple, straightforward conversation. She told me that she had been working in the print studio (like you, Gabs!) on etchings. Now that I knew that she was an art person, I didn’t feel bad about giving her some details about the Guggenheim. “My friend Kristen Cavagnet works there,” she said.

Kristen Cavagnet is one of my roommates in Venice! GASP! How strange and wonderful is that?!

After that affirmation that the world is, in fact, the size of a silver dollar, we spent the rest of our night talking about ourselves, our friends, and our families. We found food – I had pizza with fresh tomatoes, mozzarella and eggplant and she tiramisu – and wine, and enjoyed the perfectly cool Venice night along the waterfront.

Unfortunately, Christie was leaving Venice in a few days, so our time together would be short. She was planning on sightseeing the next day, and I asked if I could join her. It was perfect, almost serendipitously so, that we had found each other. It almost felt like we were balancing each other out; she was leaving, I was staying, we were making peace with the city before departure and upon arrival. All was right with the world as I practically skipped back to my hostel: I am in Venice, and I made a friend!

Lindsey and Christie visit Piazza San Marco

Even though most of the time I am one, I don’t like tourists. Not all tourists, but all tourists who appear to be and act like tourists. I’m sure there are thousands of others who try to be polite and discrete as I do, but they do such a good job that I don’t know they are there. Therefore, the indiscrete and the impolite catch all the grief.

Knowing that Piazza San Marco would be filled with these intolerable individuals before I left Giudecca this morning allowed me to get into the right mindset. I mentally prepared myself on the vaporetto ride across the Grand Canal. The morning was cool and crisp, even with the sun flying high above the water. Christie and I had decided to meet at 8:30, and I was, of course, way early for our appointment. Taking my time, I strolled leisurely down the Fondamenta Zitelle, trying to look as Italian – or simply un-American – as possible. I watched bar owners prepare their storefronts for the day, locals walk their dogs and old men heatedly discuss the front page of the city newspaper, Il Gazattino. About five minutes into my 10-minute walk, I saw a frutteria, which is basically a produce stand inside a storefront. I smiled as my mind wandered back to my time in Rome, when I went to my first frutteria.

It was my birthday, June 3, 2007, and I had just arrived at my apartment in Rome after an exhausting trip from the airport. I didn’t know anyone or anything about my neighborhood, but I set off to explore anyways. Knowing my tendency to become disoriented and get lost, I picked one of the streets that extended from my piazza and set off on a stroll. The first store I came to was a frutteria. I walked in – which was essentially like stepping into the doorway of a walk-in closet – and quickly decided that I would like some cherries. I had seen the word for cherries (le ciliege) before, but I wasn’t sure how to say it. So, I pointed, and the shopkeeper confirmed my request: le ciliege, phonetically chee-lee-ay-gee. That was the first word I learned in Italy.

Spurned by nostalgia, I bought some cherries, found a public bench, and watched the comings and goings of the Canal. Christie arrived at exactly 8:30, and we set off on our mission.

Throughout the morning we hit all of the big tourist spots: Piazza San Marco, Basilica San Marco, Palazzo Ducale and Museo Correr. Because this post is already super long, I will let pictures do the talking. (From top to bottom: Venice in the morning (above); Basilica San Marco; a detail from BSM; view of the Grand Canal from BSM; and a mosaic on the facade.)

I said goodbye to Christie around 1:15 after a fantastic morning filled with beauty. It was so great meeting her, and we had such a good time together. I wish she was going to be in Venice longer, but instead I have a friend in Colorado! I got to my hostel at 1:30, and promptly passed out. I didn’t get much sleep last night, so I was exhausted. I slept until 6:30, got up, and walked along the Fondamente. Now I’m here with you!

I hope you enjoy this post and the pictures. Look from the second of the final three long posts sometime tomorrow or the next day. I love you all, and I will talk to you soon!

Lindsey

JFK > ZUR > VCE

Hello, all!

Thank you all for reading! I am thoroughly enjoying your comments so far. Unfortunately, I was not able to capture Yoko on camera before she left. C'est la vie. Because I do not have a Yoko pic for you all, I have included two really good ones in this post.

Now that you have been promised pictures, I will begin to detail the remainder of my journey for you. I will split this post up for you all into a few sections, as indicated by the title. The first will be JFK > ZUR, my flight from New York to Zürich.

In typical JFK style, we boarded the plane on time but then taxied for an hour. Lame. I had, however, slipped myself some Benadryl after I got situated on the plane, so I was set. I slept through take off, and woke up to a very unpleasant sound. What, I asked myself, could be making such a guttural, painful noise on an airplane. I opened my eyes to discover that it was the woman beside me about to be sick. I was mortified. The flight attendants were gathered all around, pressing bags of ice against her face and chest, and I immediately recoiled against the freezing cold window. I will not continue on this subject because it is unpleasant, but - so you know - she did not get sick. Phew.

The flight itself was uneventful, no turbulence or anything like that. The food was mediocre, but that's what I was expecting. I watched Confessions of a Shopaholic, and it was mediocre too. I was, however, impressed by the flight attendants and overall flight experience. I learned during my time on Swiss Air flights and in Zürich Airport today, that the Swiss are a pretty savvy group of people. They know how to sell themselves and sell their products. For example, the intra-terminal train in the Zürich Airport had flat screens with gorgeous pictures of the Swiss countryside while playing soothing nature sounds. Different vendors were giving away chocolate everywhere, and chocolate, combined with the mountain stream running through my head, put me in a very pro-Swiss state of mind. It doesn't hurt that the airport was super clean and well-organized with huge windows looking onto the Alps, my new favorite mountain range.

ZUR > VCE

I was laid over in Zürich from 11:15 a.m., when I landed, until 5:40 p.m., when I left for Venice. During those 6ish hours, I slept; I slept hard. My bags were still checked from my first flight, so I took my purse, wrapped the strap securely around my arm, and crashed on a three-seat bench overlooking the stunning Swiss countryside. It was blissful.

Now comes my favorite part of my whole journey (besides arriving safely in Venice): the Swiss Alps. If I was any good at geography, I would have realized that, on a flight from Zürich to Venice, I would pass directly over the Alps. But I'm not. In fact, I am spatially retarded (Mike and Al - tell them how bad I am if they ask). So, we took off, and the flight attendants were giving out chocolate when I nonchalantly glanced over my shoulder out the window. My jaw dropped. It has been a long time since I've been completely overwhelmed by the beauty of nature. I don't have the words to describe the experience, so I took pictures (The one in this post is the best one I could take through the 17 layers of airplane glass).

After an hour or so, the Alps faded into the clouds behind me, and the Adriatic came into view. Slowly, Venice became clear. A huge smile broke out on my face. I couldn't fight it. Even though the plane could've crashed and burned at that very moment, I didn't care: I had arrived.

VCE

The only leg of my journey that involved some planning was VCE > .... well, VCE. I figured out Wednesday that I required a motor bus, a water bus (or vaporetto) and my feet to reach my hostel on Giudecca, one of Venice's many islands. (I am writing to you know from my hostel, and I will stay two nights here before I am able to move into my apartment.) Surprisingly, this whole process was extremely easy. I arrived at my hostel after an hour on the vaporetto, and I promptly went to the edge of the Grand Canal, that it faces, threw my bags down, and watched the sun set. Sigh. It was so damn beautiful.

With these images, I will leave you. There is another part of this story that I will write about tomorrow. Let's just say that I made a friend on my way to dinner, and we are going sightseeing tomorrow. Did I mention she's friends with my new roommate? GASP! OMG! It's such a small world. Stay tuned!

I love you all, and I will talk to you soon!

Lindsey

P.S. I'm 97% sure that Yoko Ono is sitting next to me

I'm at Au Bon Pain, and who is a table over from me? Yoko Ono. If she wasn't three feet from my left elbow, I would take a picture.

She is with a middle-aged white man with slick hair in a camel-colored silk suit and an elderly Asian woman. Agent and sister? I think so. Random? Yes.

If it is her, she looks great for a 70ish-year-old. OK, that's all the could-be celeb news for now :)

Live from New York: It's Thursday Afternoon!

Hello, everyone!

I am writing to you from the food court of JFK International Airport in New York, USA (fancy, right?). I have divided the post below into subsections to allow for easier reading and skimming. I am, as you all know, a huge fan of efficiency and readability. That being said, this is my first try at a realio-trulio blog post. I am experimenting with a few different styles of writing, so bear with me. Let know what you think.

The First Leg: Charlotte to New York

I awoke this morning at 4:20 to my screaming cell phone alarm. That's all I will say about that.

Barely awake, I stumbled into the shower; out of the shower; into my clothes; into the kitchen; out of the door; into the car; out of the car; and into the airport (is that Twitter-y enough for you Twitter people?). I said good bye to Mom and Austin, and dutifully sorted my carry-on items into different bins to be scanned.

* * *

For the first time in my life, my flight was on time out of the gate and early into the next gate. Twas a memorable moment when the flight attendant came on the loudspeaker and said we would be landing 20 minutes early. I flew JetBlue, so I had a mini TV screen of my very own to watch whatever I pleased. After a quick scroll, I settled on The Scripps National Spelling Bee on ESPNU (The bee beat out a History Channel special on the French Revolution by a hair).

For whatever reason, the ESPN folks were airing the 2007 championship instead of the most recent one. Nevertheless, I was fully entertained for the entire flight by the 15 finalists, who are a motley crew to say the least. I was particularly taken by one boy, Evan O'Dorney, who is an amazing speller as well as an ingenious mathematician and musician.

At the age of 13, Evan had already written a piano concerto in his own numerical language; he assigned numbers to musical notes and wrote music as strings of numbers instead of on staffs. If you have three minutes to spare, you should watch his bio: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rFGz0IkfP30 (start at the one-minute mark). In addition to be a genius, he is endearingly awkward.

As the spelling bee ended, we descended into New York. I have been roaming around ever since, either physically or mentally, preparing for the next leg of my journey to Venice. Below are a few musings of mine since I've been in New York. You may continue on if you like; keep in mind that I am still on my training wheels as writer :)

Goodbye for now, everyone. Look for another post in a day or so; I will be joining you from Zurich, Switzerland.

Until tomorrow,

Lindsey



MUSINGS: I, II, III

I. Airports

Airports are strange places. I never know exactly what to do or how to act, but I realized today - after my 5th hour of sitting in one - that you do whatever you want (within the confines of federal law). I have been kind of out of it all day, and I thought it was due to sleep deprivation, but I think it's because of the airport environment. I have been doing some prime people watching, focusing only on the subjects I have chosen and nothing else.

During the pockets of time when I was focused, I practiced my Italian. I have fully resigned myself to the fact that I have only an elementary understanding of the language at this point in my life, but I need to be quasi-conversational to do my job. As I read through the materials I brought, things started to surface in my mind - useful phrases and words, some attached to fond (and not so fond memories). I will share one of these with you.

I have a 5-subject notebook that I used during all five semesters that I took Italian. I didn't plan it that way; I was - in my first-year diligence - going to have a section for notes, one for homework, one as a homemade dictionary for useful words and phrases, etc. It turned out, however, that I used one tab for each semester, conveniently taking down all of my notes in the same notebook. I was flipping through that notebook this morning, and I was delighted to find my vocabulary lists from Italian I. I drew, yes drew, a icon or picture for every single word. (See image above) Gone are the days when I had enough time and enthusiasm for my homework. I am hoping that my time abroad will rekindle my love of learning, which has slowly fizzled out over the last year or so.

II. Luggage

I hate suitcases. They never seem to fit all of your stuff, and they are ridiculously cumbersome. As you all know, I am not a graceful lady to begin with, so I feel especially uncoordinated balancing a huge backpack, a purse and a massive suitcase. I also have a coat, which conveniently slips and slides away from the backpack strap it is tied to and wanders all over my torso and back. I have successfully hit three people at varying angles and speeds with at least one of my bags. Isn't that wonderful? Long story short: I can't wait until I can check my huge bag, put the others in a locker and take a nap.

III. Apprehension?

I have been devoid of any significant emotion all day today. I am excited, deep down, but I am not allowing myself to be so until I am safe in Venice. Perhaps it is the cynic in me, but I will not allow myself to become excited...yet. My feeling today is similar to that of my feeling in February, while I was waiting to hear from the Collection. The only time I thought about the impending news of my acceptance/rejection was while I slept. I apparently allowed my sub-conscience to go through all of the "what if" scenarios, just not my conscious mind. It is the same now as it was then: I am sitting, waiting, and secretly wishing for the best while going through the necessary motions (or, in today's case, stations).

I will leave you now with all of the words above, and these few words below:
I love you, I miss you, and I will talk to you soon.

L

Pre-flight Check-up

Hello, everyone!

Thank you all for tuning in. As you know, I am leaving Thursday for Venice, Italy, where I will intern at the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, a small modern art museum. While I am in Venice, I will attempt to keep this blog up-to-date.

Over the next three months, I will collect information and catalog it here: people I meet; artworks I like; words I learn; and photos I take. I'm more of an artist than a writer, so I will attempt to make a virtual collage for you. I won't drown you in details; I will provide just enough information to orient you and make you really, really jealous. Ha!

OK, that's it for now. I am going to be delayed in New York for 12 hours Thursday, May 28, the day of my departure, so look for another post then. Ciao for now!

Lindsey