Saturday

Cold and wet. A good day to be on the train for a few hours. This was our speediest exit yet, and having the vaporetto stop just a few metres from the hotel's front door was a godsend. The alternative – dragging heavy suitcases and packs up and over little bridges and big ones, and over cobblestone paths – doesn't bear thinking about, especially in this weather. For the first time we have wifi on the train, but the username is e5389615@telecomitalia.it, and the password 2PBW0Y82. I have tried every cryptographic combination of upper and lower case alpha-numeric characters I can imagine, and can't get on the server. Poop.

Will post later.

David is yawning and his eyes are lowered, slowly closing out the grey.  A word here for Davide Massimmo the Great or, as some know him:  Ai weigh weigh Less, the younger. Its because not eating gluten or dairy has slimmed him down and perkified hm, like the many dopio a day he has quaffed.  Finally he must rest, if only to ready him for our second assault on Roma.  We invade from the northeast!  David has done a remarkable job of booking all our hotels, buying city passes, sussing out transportation, comprehending maps, ordering food, and what else can I name? The conductor on this train examined our tickets and Eurail pass, asked a few questions and finally: " OK, va bene."  Whew, yes, all is well, thanks to Davide!  He sleeps. I write.

What can I say about Venice?  We asked our concierge, the estimable Paolo Di Nobili, who spoke beautifully enunciated English, what time he locked the door to the roof top terrace?  About 8:30,he replied.  I felt that I must explain.  We want to see the stars, over the Canal.  He said:  "In Venice you cannot see stars, too much light over the city and water, too overcast.  In Spoleto you see stars, in Slan Gimignana you see stars."  And we did.  In Venice we saw people, water, Murano glass in chandeliers, on vases and plates, rings, charms, on the Rialto.  Everywhere you see light, water, reflections, mirrors, blue, green, milk-white.  The canal mesmerizes and enchants.  It pulls you toward it.  Just don't fall in!

Last night, David and I visited the Arsenale venue of the Biennale.  It was located at the old Naval Port, a collection of docks, bulidings and warehouses, that seemed mostly deserted, like something out of a western, only missing the tumbleweed, John Wayne and a few doggies.  We were surprised to hear the strains of live, classical music.  We were puzzled to find it coming from a tiny sailboat, of the historic type, with one squarish sail, and a full load of formally dressed musicians with a conductor at the tiller. (note: we have video of this but can't post it from the iPad. No photos though.)

San Pietro in Vincoli  from David

Beautifully simple interior, today home to a wedding in progress. The big attraction here is Michelangelo's Moses (part of Pope Julius II's tomb). When I saw this in 1975, you had to put 50 lire in a slot for the lights to come on. Today, we were fenced off and unable to stand directly in front of Moe. Theses shots were taken in fairly low light so are a bit blurry. 

Walked here (and up a very daunting staircase from the street below) with a chunky, very game couple from Michigan, who summer in Bayfield, Ont. near Goderich on Lake Huron, a very pretty little town.