Italy must have known my ice queen self was en route, because it was snowing — fairly hard! — when I got there. Which was beautiful, though a bit frigid navigating the labyrinthine metro system and finding the right water boat, since my hostel was on Guidecca, across the canal from San Marco.
On the other hand, this was a sexy fucking view out the front door.
Cold as it was, Venice was awesome in the winter. Not super crowded, and I love the starkness that residual snow lends to city streets.
Another bonus: I got to stroll right into the Basilica di San Marco from the street — or the square, I guess.
And ate some gelato in front of St. Marco’s, because, you know, as one does.
Uh, I dunno, canals canals canals, water, cold; I kind of only believe people live here because I saw them walking their dogs. I am really bad about keeping my pictures organized as I take them, in case y’all haven’t noticed yet. Oh hey, here’s some silhouettes from the Bridge of Sighs!
All right more canals, I’m fucking tired so have a photodump:
SoooOOO then on… Sunday? I think? I decided to check out at least one of the surrounding islands, and ended up going to Murano, the island of glass. But it stopped at San Michele Cimitiero en route, so of course I hopped off and wandered around taking photos until I saw the whole “no photos” sign. I meant to find Ezra Pound’s grave, but, well, I didn’t.
Murano was definitely pleasantly removed from San Marco island. Not a whole ton to see, but plenty to see at the same time.
(Some of those photos may be from San Marco and/or the Grand Canal, because I took a random water bus down the canal and walked across the island several times, and it’s all mixed together.)
And I absently followed the stream of people exiting the water boat at Murano, and… ended up in a short free glassblowing demonstration. Which, on top of being super cool, added yet more to my list of story ideas that are not getting written.
Monday I left my hostel — which had the comfiest fucking bed ever — and hopped a seven-hour bus to Rome, the last leg of my FlixBus pass. The wifi sucked, which, like, how dare they — but it was painless. Ish.
I think my pictures from Rome are actually semi-organized on my computer, instead of having to mass download from Facebook and then sort them, which ends up with these late-night photodumps instead of actual posts, so hopefully that will be doable maybe tomorrow, because damn, I’ve only been in Marrakesh for a day, and it’s been a fucking trip — thanks to winding up with fantastic dormmates (hi dudes!) with whom I spent all day tonight and going to Essssasifigkhsdkghhl — Essaioura! — tomorrow. It’s so interesting how the luck of the draw with hostels — both the hostel itself and the people you end up, like, sharing a tiny room with for days — can have such a huge impact on your impressions of a city.
So hopefully that’ll be good motivation to get caught up on posting.