Venice – a city of love and dreams. Full of romance and intrigue – the city everyone dreams of. The bridge of sighs and St. Marks Square – the drawing room of all Venice. There are the gondolas, and carnival. Growing up we had a story on tape called Vivaldi’s Ring of Mystery. The story is about an orphan who grows up in a convent school playing the violin. When she was left on the doorstep, she was left with a note and a ring. Now a famous violin has come to the school, and it brings with it a mystery. Full of carnival and gondolas, whenever I hear music of Vivaldi I will always think of Venice. And when I went to Venice I was expecting to hear music from Vivaldi.
We arrived by train at around 10 at night. We were going to stay in this camping place that was not actually in Venice – it was on the main land. We found the bus and were pondering which ticket to buy. A young woman came up to us.
“Where are you going? Would you like some help?”
Her English wasn’t great, but it was okay, and we managed to explain to her where we were going and she told us which ticket to buy. It was very dark and we had no idea where we were. The bus left and we stared out the window, trying to get a glimpse of a sign, or some indication we should get off the bus. We never saw one. And then we couldn’t figure out how to make the bus stop. And then we thought we must have passed it but maybe not. And then, an hour later, or maybe it was two, I have absolutely no idea, the bus stopped. Everyone got off, and the girl that had helped us back at the beginning looked at us, in that half pitying, half incredulous look.
“There are no busses back at this hour. You need a hotel?”
We looked at each other.
“Yes.”
The first place she took us was closed. I was trying very hard not to laugh at how absurd the situation was. We had no idea where we were. No idea. The second place looked at us, but then the girl explained something in Italian – probably look at these stupid foreigners. They didn’t get off the bus where they were supposed to; please take them off my hands. He thought a minute, and then said we could stay. And so there we were – in a hotel room in a town. And we had no idea what the name of the town was. Truly lost in the middle of nowhere in the dark. I was so thankful to the girl who had helped us out. She didn’t have to help us after we got off the bus.
The next morning we awoke to sunshine. Deciding it was fate that had caused us to not get to the hostel camping place. And that we both wanted to see Venice and stay in the actual city we pulled out the guidebook we had purchased in Rome. We called the first place on the list and were told they had space but we couldn’t come until 4am. Not wanting to carry our backpacks around 
all day, we bought all-day tickets on the boats. I love boats. This was not quite the romantic Venice I had imagined though. By the time we got the bus back to the city, the weather had turned drizzly and gray. I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything different. It was the beginning of March after all. At home the weather is like that all the time. I should be used to it. And the boat was not a gondola. It was an ugly motor boat. But it did go down the Grand Canal. And I was amazed. I sat there with my mouth hanging open. It was perfect. In front of every mansion were poles, striped to look like candy canes, in every color of the rainbow. The water had been lapping the back (or maybe the front) porches of these buildings for so long that they had turned green with algae. Some of the houses had boats tied to them. I tried to imagine what it would be like to live in one of those houses. To eat breakfast every morning looking at the Grand Canal. To watch the people go up and down. And then I would go out to my boat, and ride up and down the canal until dark. Or I would take my boat into the smaller canals. I wouldn’t get lost because I would know the canals like the back of my hand.
We passed under the Rialto Bridge, lined with tourists taking photos from it. After the Grand Canal, we got in a boat that took us around the city. I was disappointed though that we didn’t get to go into any of the small canals. It was very like only going down Main Street without being able to see anything else.
Finally it was time to go to the hostel. It was in a religious building. Not a church, but it belonged to a religious group. So it wasn’t a party hostel like so many hostels. After putting our bags inside we went off exploring. We had heard that Venice was really crowded and smelly, but I guess that’s only in summer. It was empty. It did smell a little bit. Well, for a mouse it was more like a lot, but I was expecting it to be so much worse that it wasn’t that bad. It smelled a little bit like a trash can, a little bit like a dirty bathroom, and a little bit like a sink full of dirty dishes and water where the drain has gotten plugged, so it has just been sitting there and getting yucky.
We walked along canals, crossed over canals on bridges, and then we had no idea where we were. Kate has no sense of direction. And mine isn’t much better. I think mine is only better because I’m a mouse and therefore automatically have a better sense of direction. My mum was always marveling at how truly awful my sense of direction was. And the streets in Venice are so 
windy and round about. A map is useless. We didn’t even try. There are signs everywhere that point you to the Rialto and to St. Mark’s Square. But I swear that they lead you in circles. Not that we had a specific direction in mind. We were just wandering. We stopped to have ice cream. The ice cream in Venice is amazing. Absolutely amazing. I love ice cream. It’s right up there with cheese. They have lots of flavors. When we were in Rome Kate tried Tiramisu and now won’t try any other flavor, but I like to try them all. Today I had strawberry. It tasted just like a sunny day in summer at home. We did eventually make it to the rialto bridge. About two hours later. It’s not just a flat bridge – you go up and then down – like a triangle. Not curved either. It’s one of three bridges over the Grand Canal, and it’s the one in the middle, so people are always making their way there, crossing form one side of Venice to another. Or just walking there to take photos of the Grand Canal. Somehow it feels different looking at the Grand Canal from a bridge and from a boat. On the boat you feel as if you are part of the canal.
Returning back to the hostel, we visited the grocery store to buy food as we were low on money. Sadly there would be no Italian food for a few days. Kate said she had an orange juice craving, and that night, along with our cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches she drank an entire liter of orange juice. I thought it was a bad sign that she drank the entire carton in one night.