So, at 3.30 am on Friday morning (half an hour behind schedule) we packed the cooler, the dogs and our sleepy-ass selves into the car. The dogs don’t get off the mountain so much so they were a little excited (euphemism for “f#*#&ng hyper”) . Although it was the middle of the night, there was really no sleep to be had in that car.
Here was my view…
for the 6 hours to get to Venice and the 5 hours getting home.
Here was my view…
for the 6 hours to get to Venice and the 5 hours getting home. No, there was not a time warp, nor does one pass through any time zones between Maberga and Venice, nor does one benefit considerably from tailwind… just try to guess what happened on the way there that added an hour to the trip. I’ll give you a couple clues…it wasn’t the dogs’ fault, YES- we did have a map and it still happened anyway.
Upon arrival (an hour and a half behind schedule) we put Thing One and Thing Two on their leashes, another novelty for them (read between the lines “they were f$*&$ng nuts”), and made our way to the vaporetto to take us to Murano.
There were enormous waves that day, as there are every day in late June in Venice (metaphor for “bus load after bus load after tour bus load of teen-aged school groups and old Brits). The dogs loved all the people and wanted to individually greet every single one (ie: they lunged and barked and generally scared the shit out of everyone).
We got to the dock just in time to catch the hourly direct boat to Murano. I won’t go into all that transpired for the next hour, let’s just say that I learned a few things and we missed the first boat:
1. dogs need to have muzzles in Venice, particularly on the vaporetti.
2. Not just the big ones need a muzzle…all dogs need them.
3. the Chinese guys that run the tourist kiosks by the car park sell muzzles.
4. my normally easy-going, laid back husband becomes a somewhat grouchy travel companion (euphemism for f@($&ng unreasonable man that causes general questioning as to whether I can really spend the rest of my life with someone like this) when road tripping on too little sleep with two enthusiastic dogs breathing down his neck whilst being lost.
5. the muzzles you buy at the kiosks by the car park could fit a miniature poodle, if he was the runt of the litter, and it was still within the first two weeks of his life.
6. even though Venice is a world city it still, in the end, is geographically located in Italy making it, therefore full of Italians meaning, of course that owners carrying broken, plastic muzzles, fourteen sizes too small can exempt their dogs from the “no muzzle, no dog” law without even a discussion.
At noon we arrived on Murano (three hours behind schedule). We rushed to the big wholesale bead vendor shop, rang the bell, gave the secret password and were buzzed in.
Workers in the shop were accommodating to the two puppy-like Americans and their four-legged friends (might have had something to do with the fact that we were the only people in the showroom….all the same this kindness has curtailed my cursing their names and the knitting of little voodoo dolls in their likeness since the stuff I ordered is 2 weeks late in arriving because they forgot to send it).
Given that we were a little behind schedule (…..) my browsing time was limited to an hour because of the impending lunch hour (knitters, just imagine that you walk into a special, individual showing at Webs and you only have an hour…doesn’t it make you want to cry just thinking about it?).
Upon arrival (an hour and a half behind schedule) we put Thing One and Thing Two on their leashes, another novelty for them (read between the lines “they were f$*&$ng nuts”), and made our way to the vaporetto to take us to Murano.
There were enormous waves that day, as there are every day in late June in Venice (metaphor for “bus load after bus load after tour bus load of teen-aged school groups and old Brits). The dogs loved all the people and wanted to individually greet every single one (ie: they lunged and barked and generally scared the shit out of everyone).
We got to the dock just in time to catch the hourly direct boat to Murano. I won’t go into all that transpired for the next hour, let’s just say that I learned a few things and we missed the first boat:
1. dogs need to have muzzles in Venice, particularly on the vaporetti.
2. Not just the big ones need a muzzle…all dogs need them.
3. the Chinese guys that run the tourist kiosks by the car park sell muzzles.
4. my normally easy-going, laid back husband becomes a somewhat grouchy travel companion (euphemism for f@($&ng unreasonable man that causes general questioning as to whether I can really spend the rest of my life with someone like this) when road tripping on too little sleep with two enthusiastic dogs breathing down his neck whilst being lost.
5. the muzzles you buy at the kiosks by the car park could fit a miniature poodle, if he was the runt of the litter, and it was still within the first two weeks of his life.
6. even though Venice is a world city it still, in the end, is geographically located in Italy making it, therefore full of Italians meaning, of course that owners carrying broken, plastic muzzles, fourteen sizes too small can exempt their dogs from the “no muzzle, no dog” law without even a discussion.
At noon we arrived on Murano (three hours behind schedule). We rushed to the big wholesale bead vendor shop, rang the bell, gave the secret password and were buzzed in.
Workers in the shop were accommodating to the two puppy-like Americans and their four-legged friends (might have had something to do with the fact that we were the only people in the showroom….all the same this kindness has curtailed my cursing their names and the knitting of little voodoo dolls in their likeness since the stuff I ordered is 2 weeks late in arriving because they forgot to send it).
Given that we were a little behind schedule (…..) my browsing time was limited to an hour because of the impending lunch hour (knitters, just imagine that you walk into a special, individual showing at Webs and you only have an hour…doesn’t it make you want to cry just thinking about it?).
After a drinkable lunch …seen here improving moods 10 fold… we headed to Maria Rosa’s place for the signature beads. She makes some great stuff and some even greater stuff just for me (given this and that she was kind enough to let our hot, excited dogs into her 5 x 15 glass studio with us, gave them water which they promptly and politely spilled on the electric air conditioner and she didn’t even get mad, makes me not curse her for having not sent my beads yet either).
At 5.00pm (4 hours and 2 bead shops behind schedule)we carried our muzzles and exhausted hot selves and dogs on the vaporetti heading back to the car park.
Just to avoid the impending traffic jams that happen between 6pm and 9pm on Friday evening between Milan and Liguria we made a pit stop in Vicensa at the military base. After a long, exhausting day a girl just needs some Miller Lite, A&W, and Doritos.
1.00am (6 hours behind schedule...but several spared lifes ahead of schedule) the car pulled into the Casa Cornwell car park, running completely on fumes…like all the passengers.
Wow, I am exhausted just reading about your trip. I can't imagine trying to do that in one day. Good thing you are all soooo young.
ReplyDeleteGreat pics, thanks.
WHEW!!!!
ReplyDelete