This morning we woke in Venice to a terrible, thick fog.
We met a watertaxi about two blocks away on one of the canals that whisked us to the (puzzlingly unmarked) train station. The taxiride was cool. Most of the Venetian taxis are fabricated meticulously from mahogany, with a style that brings to mind a 1950's Chrysler New Yorker.
Venetian Water Taxi
Leaving Venice in Style
Look at the beautiful headliner
The water taxis are spotless and beautiful, too.
Jack elected to stand up front with the driver while I sat in the salon. The taxi driver discreetly closed the doors so I could get out of the damp cold air. Because the fog was so thick, the driver had to navigate a snake's den of canals instead of just ringing around the island. A good deal for us because we got one last bit of sightseeing. I would like to say I know those canal alleyways very well. At least I know I've tramped on every last bloody one of them trying to find my way around. So goodbye to my convoluted and irrational alleyway friends! We disembarked at the train station. With all our luggage.
The train station is ringed by two huge flights of stairs. Puzzling from an engineer's standpoint, and causing much dismay to passengers like us dragging mini-Queen Marys behind us. Why no escalators or ramps? Must send OSHA police to investigate.
We boarded the train to Verona and settled in. There were several stops along the way. The thought of food was a distant memory. When we traveled on the Flying Scotsman from London to Edinburgh there were aisle carts and yummy tidbits. This train didn't even have a vending machine. I found some antique candy in my briefcase that, upon putting them in my mouth, made me wish I hadn’t.
All Aboard!
The Italian countryside as viewed from the train is mostly farming communities, with heavy industrial areas as we pull into cities. All are unremarkable. The fog finally lifted.
Cabbed it from the train station to our little flat. Verona is a huge college town. It would probably be a great school to attend, too, if you were majoring in partying.
We met the landlord, a charming woman, got our bearings, and headed out to the old section of Verona. We were starving, and that's where the landlord directed us to forage.
We found a great place - La Cristos. Our first course was a broccoli souffle with "crispy lard." (bacon) Second course - goat cheese ricotta with a fabulous cream sauce and artichokes. Third course - braised beef with some sort of a cornmeal pudding. And then homemade ice cream.
Our table at La Cristos
We've managed to stumble back to the flat and Jack is sawing logs. I'm not far behind.
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