venice.

after three weeks in sunny spain, bryndia hopped the cheapest flight to italy they could find. this flight happened to be into venice. so, with no plans and no expectations, the two travelers found themselves in the canal filled city. and loved it.

when bryndia arrived in the airport, they hopped a "water bus" into the city, which turned out to be a nice welcome tour of the entire edge of venice. getting off at the final stop on the line, the pair trekked through the tight canal streets with their stuffed backpacks until they found their hotel, alla salute. here, they were bonused by the receptionist to an unexplained UPGRADE. "you won't have to share a bathroom with the entire hallway anymore!" instead, bryndia would stay in their own little suite, number 69 no less! though the door to which, weirdly enough, was immediately to the right of the reception desk. (the looks they got from fellow hotel guests when stumbling up to that door late at night was priceless.) only in venice for an hour and already, the best!

that night, bryndia did circles around the city, stood on cobblestone bridges and watched the gondala guests kiss beneath them. they shared a pizza, shared some wine, and continued to walk. just as the dark set in, they heard a faint but recognizable song. following the music, the two discovered an outdoor concert of italian musicians playing american rock at an irish bar. while sipping dark beer and humming along to the eagles, india struck up a conversation with three american kids who were visiting venice on their spring break from their abroad program in prague. coincidentally, one of the boys had been the freshman year roomie of one of india's best friends at tulane. her world shrunk a little. it feels nice, safe, to meet people who you have met before halfway around the world when you least expect it.



after the concert, bryndia and their three new friends (hannah from bennington, kevin from villanova, and langston from tulane) headed into the older part of venice in search of a new, preferrably italian, bar. walking into a piazza surrounded by bars with people spilling out, the group was startled to hear a loud chant from a corner. "god is dead! god is dead! we must drink!" no, no, they pointed out to the wastey italian boy. god isn't dead anymore. it's easter. he has risen. "god has risen! we must drink!" their knew obvoiusly not very religious friend dragged them into the closest bar where he bought campari spritzers and asked everyone about their favorite american slang.

after thirty minutes, bryndia's new friend, even more drunk then before, had began to take roses from the bums selling them on the square put the bud into his mouth and spit out petals like confetti at passerbys & the group itself, while yelling "god is dead", it was a quite a specticle. After the first Italian bar ridded itself of the group they all made moves up the street to another bar to use the bathroom & buy a quick drink, taking the glasses they were givin to walk down the street as the italians told them, "you must screw the bars by taking glasses, because they screw you". they spent their easter swigging wine in a dark sqaure with a pack of italians who aged from 16 to 25.



the next morning, bryndia awoke to another gorgeous sunny day. (they bring the lucky weather! really! really!) they ate breakfast in a cafe, sprawling out across a piazza packed with tourists, staring up at the tall bell towers that all looked like sinking ships, all tilting slightly under the unstable ground of the old city. after cappucinos and mozerella sammys, bryndia took katy olsen's impromtu advice and hopped a water taxi to burano, a tiny island about 30 minutes outside of venice. the small community is recognized for its artistically painted homes and its skilled lace making. (standard, really.)



stepping off the boat, the pair was met with a crayola crayon box of houses, packed tightly together, pastel colored legos, one right next to the other, forming loops of cobblestone alleys walled in bright pinks, purples, blues. after circling the island on foot twice, bryndia bought a bottle of sparkling wine from a street vendor (who opened it for us and gave us two cups... drinking laws in europe are the beeest) and took it to the water where they chilled in the sun for most of the afternoon. (sidenote to all travelers in venice, there is straight up zero reason to pay for public transportation to burano. or anywhere else really. no one ever checks tickets. its great. save yourself euros.)



after leaving burano, bryndia returned to venice and strolled through the markets on the largest canal. ate delicious cookies and talked about what it would be like to live in a city that was that packed with tourists. dinner that night was more insane italian food - buffalo mozerella and baked pasta and wine in big glass pitchers - and more wandering in the dark streets. venice is a city meant for that kind of aimless and wonderful walking. they slept, their legs aching, but minds wandering, dreaming of the beautiful towns of cinque terre that would grace them the next day.