Power Blog!

It's currently 7:45 am and I've been so busy lately that I haven't had time to write.  That kind of bums me out.  I'm leaving in 45 minutes for Florence!  I reached out to a bunch of friends and they were more then happy to provide me with a laundry list of must-see.

Jewish Ghetto
We had a guest lecture given by Shaul Bossi.  He's a professor of english and literature at the University of Venice.  He specializes in Shakespeare and had a really great alternative approach to it.  It was much approachable and easy to understand.  As far as we know, Shakespeare never visited Venice.  Venice was a "city of the present" back then.  It was the equivalent of New York and London currently.  One thing that stuck out in my mind was that Shakespeare was used as a tool in let's say India, to teal morality through theatre (and the sub context was to educate in the christian way).

He also discussed a French Sociologist which who studied the importance of one's culture.  I couldn't catch his name but it was something to the effect of Bourdius.  He found that financial capital is not the only way to survive.  It's intertwined with social capitol which is essentially who you know and who you network.  Cultural capital is the class of people who are intellects, and symbolic capitol is more along the lines of prestige.  Today, American society is a fusion of a few.  It's who you know, if you're an actor, you have cultural capitol, and from there you become wealthy.

Venice is known for its symbolic capitolism.  In the 16th century, Venice goes to battle with Rome.  They loose, and territory was lost.  Venetians start to cultivate their image.  Since usury was prohibited by the church, who was going to lend?  Well, the Jews of course!  They lived on the mainland and after this, Venice needed to step up their game.  Essentially it was a 16th Century Bailout and illusion to make it look like all was well despite their defeat.  A revamped image emerged.  There was one catch, the Jews could only live in one restricted and gated area.  

I thought this wreath was a bit funny, considering it was in the middle of the ghetto.

We stopped for lunch at an awesome little kosher restaurant named gam gam on the outskirts of the ghetto.  THIS WAS GREAT FOOD.  We split some potato latkas which were gently fried and served with wholesome applesauce.  I ordered cous cous con pesce pecante.  It was tasty.  The sauce wasn't so much spicy, but had a peppery kick.  The fish was fresh and flaky but had a few little bones.  It also had some peppers and onions and was one of the best meals I've had to date here.

The ghetto is no longer inhabited by jews, but a few are there  to this day.  We visited 3 synagogues.  They were all uniquely different from one another.  What a shocking change from the churches that I've seen.  These were modest with crooked floors.  Jews were not allowed to use marble in their construction, nor where they trained as architects or designers.  So they still had a christian feel to them because they were crafted by christians.  The substance that they used instead of marble was called marbleita.  It was pretty interesting looking.  Ironically, this stone is now valued higher than marble.  Only 2 synagogues are in current practice.  One has central heat, and the other is larger.  During the summer they use the large one and switch during the winter.  The winter one was a bit bigger then the first two that we visited.  Al Pacino filmed the opening scene of The Merchant of Venice in it.  It's on the right in this pic.

Here is a "Venetian Skyscraper."  Ceilings were low and the Jews were forced to live in such tiny tenements.

This made me laugh, only because the people I've been meeting are pro Lega Nord (they want to succeed from the south...) :

A few steps away:

Contradictions everywhere!

I'm afraid that's all I have time for fight now.  Power blog over, and I have about 15 minutes to get ready for my trip to florence.  More to come, I assure you!

I'm in a romantic mood today.  It's starting to thunder outside and I think it's completely romantic.  I think I'm going to head down stairs in a bit and watch the storm out of the great french doors that overlook the lagoon.  Even the rain in Venice has a regal majesty to it.  Before my trip, I was speaking with someone and they said I either was going to fall in love with the old Venice and it's romance, or cringe at the decay.  I'm in love.  Maybe it's my mood, but it's all beautiful.  8 of us are heading via train to Florence tomorrow morning.  We have the weekend off and I'm excited to explore and escape a bit, but I think a life time love affair has begun with this city.  The tourists are there but this afternoon I was just wandering around some narrow alleys that I haven't explored yet and I was completely content.  It could be the fact that I have zero responsibilities and not a care in the world, but I'm just going to ignore that and keep wandering.

I have a pretty extensive list of talking points and notes that have accumulated but I'm in a sort of free mood.  It's been gorgeous here every day and I'm totally fine with the rain that's here.  Give it a chance to cleanse the well soiled streets.  Maybe it'll spare my shoes and feet some mercy.  So what does one do on a rainy day?  Write 9, thoughtfully long postcards!

I bought them off the street from a street vendor and the edges are slightly yellowed and I think it's kinda cool looking.

Booking the train to Florence/deciding on a weekend getaway was an absolute catastrophe.  I love our group.  We're 10 vibrant personalities; each possessing great qualities.  However, one that we lack is decesion making skills.

"You're no cheap date."

I finally had a moment to myself to sit down and write.  It's been a perpetual challenge for me to stay awake.  My brain is in sensory overload.  Everything I do, see, and touch is new.  My knee has been hurting today because we have walked so much.  I no longer am guilty about not working out.  I'm satisfied with the amount of walking that we have done will suffice.  Also, the food is incredibly fresh.  Aside from the sandwich I had the other day with a tomato in it that was horribly unripened, everything is great.  Last night we cooked dinner with President Mercer (he's been going by the alias of Pietro here in Italia) and his wife Jackie.

Doge's Palace - Palazzo Ducate

Outside the palace

I'm super into the elaborate Corinthian columns.  Magnificent!

Courtyard of the palace

they used to feed secrets / accusations into the mouth of this dude. they were taken pretty seriously

OM NOM NOM NOM. 

What the heck is a doge?
Well, he's typically a much older guy who governs, sort of like a magistrate.  He typically wears a silly little hat with a point in the back.  Here's a sexy one:

Is it me, or is this guy screaming excitement or what!?

Upon entering the building, we went up some stairs and I sniped out a picture of the breathtaking ceiling.  I was reprimanded for my photography so I stopped pretty early.  Here are the one's that I could get:

Ceiling

More cool ceilings

Absolutely gorgeous chandeliers.  These wood ceilings are all over the city.  Sometimes they were left plain.  This one was in the living quarters of the doge.  I saw them elsewhere with elaborate decorations and paintings on them.

View from the palazzo and how it connects to the basilica.

A shiny hiney.  You better hide it, before I bite it!

(My grandma used to say this to me....)

In the basement of the palace there were prisons.  They were tiny and damp.  They smelled super moldy.  The cells weren't that tiny but the hallways were dark and dreary.  There was one bridge called the bridge of sighs.  Prisoners would sigh as they crossed it knowing that they were never returning.  The palace was split into 3 sections.

1. Private living quarters which were "modest" - bullshit.

2. Public rooms where the senate held court.

3. Prisons

The public rooms were - bewildering.  I'm starting to run out of adjectives.  The thesaurus might need to be broken out soon.  The main room was very large.  It was sectioned off into many sections.  Every inch of the ceiling and walls were covered.  At this point my brain was completely saturated.  It was near impossible for my eyes to stay open.  Perhaps I was at fault.  The night before I had quite the late night food binge.  We got some pizza, gelato and had some left over tiramisu for our late night snack.  I've had quite a few gelatos.  While I'm on the topic of night life, I've yet to find toilet paper at night in public.  It's quite devastating.  I not only have to hover close to the ground, but then I have to suffer the humility of the shake and wiggle.  Some of the bathrooms are hidden and outside, it's traumatizing.

Oh my I didn't talk about the dinner yet- i'll get there.

Back to historical business.  One thing that I was totally enthralled with were the tapestries that were used to decorate the walls inside the palace.  They were thick and luxurious damask patterns.  Most were vibrant reds, but they varied.  Considering I just wallpapered my bedroom in a damask, I was totally digging it.  The purpose of the fabrics were used to insulate the rooms.

Gypsy's
They're beautiful people.  I'm mesmerized by them.  The homeless population in New York is not scary, and these aren't either. These people are slightly pathetic, but good at what they do.  For some reason I'm fixated on them when ever I see them.  I clench my purse with apprehension and look on in curiosity.  They jingle their change cup with dignity and the unassuming ones who are 'working' prey on innocence.  I also saw a young boy working the crowd.

Dinner with great company!
President Mercer and his wife Jackie spend their last night in Venezia with us.  We cooked and it was a great meal.  Kelly and I prepared a light Venetian style pasta with fresh, young gorgonzola, mozzarella, basil, and cherry tomatoes tossed in some evoo.  Most contributed to the meal and I set the table for 14.  A great time was had by all.  Mr. Mercer picked up some stuff to try.  We blind taste tested two evoo's.  One was really expensive and one was generic supermarket brand.  I picked the better one, naturally and he replied "you're no cheap date."  I'm a food snob, and I don't resent it.  We also tried some cow tongue.  My guess was that it was boiled.  It tasted sort of like a mystery bologna/proscutto.  He didn't tell any one what it was and most ate it.  HA!  I would have anyway.  I'm still super curious to try the squid ink risotto.  The proscutto drizzed in aged balsamic was out of this world.  He also prepared some steamed artichokes and a pasta dish.  As my dear friend Rachel Ray would say, YUMMO.

Conversation was divine.  We joked about novel things as well as hit on some serious topics like religion, nutrition, education, law and world politics.  It was a really great evening.  One topic that came up- I mentioned that there were no female gondolieras.  Kathy mention that there was one.  I did some research and I found out some more information about her.  She worked for a private hotel.  Goldiers have to follow strict guidlines even dictating the width of the stripes on their shirt.  Awesome for her but I certainly feel her pain.

Read more about it here:
http://www.amoretravelguides.com/blog/first-female-gondolier-has-venice-talking.php
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/1547402/Female-gondolier-turns-tide-of-Venices-history.html 
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/14/world/europe/14venice.html

The Italian Mind is complex, but I feel if I spent enough time here I can crack it.  They speak in their broken English but know damn well what's going on.  If I'm ordering a gelato or getting hit on by an Italian, they know.  This is not knew to them.  This is a transient town.  It's depressing how few are true to the culture, but those who are, get it.  They're numb to the tourism.  I'm feeling a bit more at ease just being here at week but I'm not that numb- yet.  I definitely feel as if I'll indefinitely have a connection to this city.  It's majestic and surreal and the locals are unique.  The few I have spoken to don't have any idea where things are located, but it's all sensory.  That brings me to my next point: romance.  I'm completely in love with the Italian language.  It's romance at it's finest.  I understand fragments but it's spoken so eloquently and I'm OK with understanding what I catch.

MISC. Thoughts

• This is no vacation, folks.  We work around the clock, soaking up all occasions and every situation - or at least I do.  
• I need a manicure, terribly, but I'm sucking it up because this is unforgettable.  
• They don't refrigerate eggs here.  That's weird.  It makes me nervous to eat them. 
• Since I'm forced to be intellectually "on" at all hours of the day, I feel - bright.  I feel like conclusions and baby revelations come to me with ease.  Maybe this is my big transformation I was anticipating.       - A greater acceptance of life and culture.  
• This is a tourist trap.  My purchases are strategic.  I'm waiting patiently to visit the authentic leather craftsman who's work allegedly can compete with hermes and vuitton.  
• I don't have any desire to buy the shit that's everywhere.  It's an orient express.  I'm obsessed with authenticity and I refuse to settle for anything less, despite the price.
• bitching out- my camera is heavy.
• I'm way more into architecture than art.

• It smells like the jersey shore.  I love gasoline and water.  It's a comfort.
• Marketing is much different here.  High fashion markets their merch in the same strategic fashion.  There are highs and lows- strategic placement.  Some of the local shops get it as well.  I appreciate it.  I think my biggest way to sniff out the Chinese replications is the way they market their - junk.
• Italian women glide like swans.  They ignore the distractions and posture is imperative to their image.  They maintain this while possessing a sense of comfortable ease.
• Big brother's watching, but I'm not sure how closely.

The Great Debate : Bidet vs. Foot washer
The bidet's here are not as strong as I envisioned them.  They are like a sink in a toilet boil.  One night, I indulged in a few glasses of wine and was convinced it was a foot washer.  My feet are filthy here.  My shoes are black and when I wear sandals, my feet are absolutely grotesque.  In fact, they almost itch from the grime.  So I washed my feet in them one night.  Hey!  Don't laugh, there's no harm in that.  It's purely for cleaning.  :)

They also don't have dryers here.  I'm no princess, but I at least need clothes pins for drying stuff outside.  It's hard for my clothes to dry in the humidity here.

My itunes is playing Brett Dennen.  I've never heard it before, don't know where it came from, but I'm digging it right now,

Today we trekked to the Academia Museum.
Female Venetian painters did not exist until much later.  Even when they were introduced, females were only allowed to paint portraits.  It was thought that males were the only one's who possessed a creative mind.  It wasn't until the 1500's that women broke out onto the art scene.  Most of the art we viewed from earlier times were painted wooden panels.  Art supplies were really expensive so there was very few creative creations.  The church sponsored all artwork.

There's no such thing as modesty or minimalism.  It's grandiose or your butt will be swimming back home.  No expenses appeared to be spared in both the art and the palazzo ducate.  Gold leaf is in no short supply.  Ceilings with endless patterns and decadence compliment the floor who are hardly modest.  This post renaissance styling is much more fluid compared to the geometric Byzantine stylings that I had seen in the past few days.  It's truly an amazing experience to view a painting of a church and then go to the church and have it look exactly the same.

One fresco that really struck a chord with me was a Giordione piece- La Nuda.
It was just a few fragments of this faded women.  Her eyes were washed out and blurred but they somehow managed to posses an incandescent glow.  The fresco was salvaged from an exterior building from 1476.

This culture is so heavily saturated with religion.  With my personal views still teetering and constantly reforming, it's hard for me to image what life would be like here.  We got into a bit of a deep conversation last night at dinner and it seems that most of us who have had catholic upbringings have strayed because of the rigidity.  I brought up the 2nd Vatican Council that was held in the mid 1960's.  Quite frankly, I think a third might be in order if they intend on keeping their following.

Male vs Female Bodies and how they were depicted varied through out the centuries.  Men were always extremely masculine.  Attention to detail was paid towards definition.  Femininity evolved in a way where it was curvaceous, full, and graceful.

I took a break from art an put my anthropological cap on.  There was a group of high school students.  They followed their guide and teacher around.  Their notebooks were attentively cocked and appeared thirsty to soak up every second of this experience.  Some people sat and sketched.  I really enjoyed watching these people.  Their intense gaze was fixed upon the paintings as if they were trying to channel the 1,000 years in between them and the artist.  Nothing in the world mattered to them and that was pretty cool to observe.  There was a grandmother and her grown granddaughter.  The grandmother was frail and walking with a cane.  They sat closely together and the granddaughter read to her about the paintings.  It was really a beautiful sight.  I wish I could experience these things with my family.  I know they would appreciate it just as much as I do.  Personally, I don't like having a notebook with me at museums.  I feel as if it takes away from the majestic feelings that the artist is trying to portray.  Art is a personal experience.  I'd rather sit in silence and get lost in it.  However, I turned it around and was happy with what I observed.

A few paintings depicted red angels in the heavens.  I asked Marina what this was about and she said that there were 9 categories of angels.  Their powers ranged and the hierarchy spanned with archangels being at the top.  I wish to one day aspire to know endless information about a specific area.  Marina's extensive knowledge about Venice is astonishing.  I haven't come across any question that stumps her.  She's really a wealth of knowledge.

A picture is worth way more than 1000 words for me.  Some faces look as if they're petrified in time.  Genre art lacks force.  Not very many people smiled or smirked in the paintings.  They possessed a sort of hollowness.  That's more art history that I've learned in my entire life.  I do wish and regret that I was more attentive in middle school and high school.  I learned a lot about it, and had a good basis of knowledge, but it has seemed to have gotten lost.

I went to the local wine store afterwards.  Kelly and I purchased 1.5 litres of cabernet in plastic bottle for 5 euros.  Holy bargain, batman!  I'm a happy camper.  This cab is one of the best I have ever tasted.  There's large containers that look like gas tanks.  They're silver and have pumps and it cracks me up.  Fill 'er up!  I'll get a picture of the place before I leave, I'm sure that's not going to be my last visit.

After the wine store, we went to a sickeningly rude travel agent.  The shop was small and tucked away.  We were forewarned that they were the "nazi" travel agent.  Marina was with us and helped negotiate some prices but apparently memorial day weekend is also a big get away weekend in europe as well.  It would cost 200 euro for a flight to Barcelona for the weekend.  I think we're going to lean towards a Tuscan escape.

When I spoke with my father this afternoon, he asked me how I have all this time to write.  So far this blog is 22 pages today.  Holy moly, perhaps I should I pursue a career in journalism.  It's a bit late of a realization, but hey, I'm all for spontaneity!

FABIO

My internet just switched and is currently in Italiano.  Is that a cruel joke?  Oh well, I'll survive.   Today we went to Lido.  We all woke up on the late side, around 12.  Last night was a trip...  Here's some evidence:

Dinner at the apartment..

Flaming shots

Viva America - Academia Bridge

We  went to the "only night club" in Venice.  It was called Piccolo Mundo.  Totally - gross.  There were red leather couches everywhere and about 243243 italian horn dogs.  Entertaining, but not a cool place to hang every night.  Everyone was really touchy feely, much different then what I'm used to.  I went with Christa, Caroline and Christian.  The rest went home.  We were the only 3 girls in the club.  I typically would have had a field day (talking and socializing of course!) but it was way too foward and way too - pushy.

LIDO
Once we finally dragged ourselves (gross feet and all) out of bed, we went to get our coffee.  There's a few vaporetto lines (water taxi)  that run around the city.  The #1 line is the local.  It sucks but goes to lido.  #2 line runs express to all the hot spots.  While we were waiting for the 1, there were a bazillion rowers.  They all had tags so their must have been participating in a race.  After awhile, we realized the 1 was never coming.  Kelly suggested that we go to the north end of the island to catch it.  The north end is primarily, commercial i guess.  The group split up and some ended up shopping while 5 or 6 of us weaseled our way across.  There were no signs like in New York. There's no such thing as service interruption information.

Getting lost- its not a big deal.  I don't think I've been lost yet.  I'm extremely thankful for my intuition/sense of direction.  Or possibly my cocky attitude.  You decide..
I refuse to settle or be confused.  Our professor Kathy was saying that "our parents will be so impressed of how independent we are."  If I come back any more independent, I'm not sure what parents 1-3 would do with me.  For me, this trip is more about finding myself and being more, I don't know, zen?  I think it's working.  I'm forcing myself to be less judgmental and more accepting.  I think I am.  When I first arrived, I cringed at the fashion faux paus.  Now, not so much.  Fashion itself is international.  Prada is prada and louie is louie.  Whether it be in Italia or en America.  Shit, I'm starting to speak itaniano- ish..
Regardless, live and let live.

There are african men all over selling the FAKIST knockoff handbags i've ever seen.  It's mutilated burberry, cheap chanel and the tackiest of the tacky.  The LV handbags aren't even LVs.  They're weird fluer de lis.

Sorry- tangent.  Lido was cool.  It was about a 35 minute ride from Venice.  My perception of time is totally screwed up.  I have no idea what's going on.  If have I have to be punctual, that's the only time that it matters.  The rest of the time I seem to be floating around.  I don't look at my watch very much.  Once we got there, there was a sea of bicycles.  I didn't take any pictures, I'm not sure why.  And then- there were cars!  It was a strange feeling.  Venice has been a blur until we went to Lido.  The pollution hit us immediately.  It smelled, looked, and felt different then what we have been exposed to recently.  There were tons of Volkswagens :)  I felt at home.  We found our way along a long avenue to the beach.  This beach was much different than anything I've ever seen.  There was no surf.  Zip, zilch.  It was more like a lap pool.  The waves gently spilled on to the beach filled with shells.  Kelly, Ray and I went shelling and collected some cool ones.  Certainly a present for someone at home!  I think I'll get a cool container or something and stick them in there.  The beach was extremely flat.

So let's talk about cultura.  I'm in awe.  Men seem to be of a different kind here.  Women as well.  There's a sense of ease.  Lack of apprehension and pure acceptance.  Much different than the states.  I know many who are apprehensive to don a bathing suit.  Here, they just simply strip and vibe in their underwear.  I'm fine with it.  Speedo's and tight swimsuits are common.  For women, their bottoms are brazilian cuts and butts are floppy.  Women of all shapes and sizes are welcomed here.  Ugly, fat, sexy, there's no discrimination.  Male confidence/machismo is intriguing.  I've studied about it and read about it but never experienced it.  At the club, it was overwhelming and slightly annoying.  I haven't encountered it in the streets too much but confidence in public is a refreshing changed.  I asked some friends what they thought about male culture here, they replied with it's much more easy going.  If I was to classify it, I'd say it's metrosexual at it's finest.  They're fashion conscious and unafraid to express their love for the same sex.  It's an attractive quality.  I am not afraid to express my interests in the same sex.  I appreciate fashion and a good looking women.  I would never act on it but my interests are definitely perked.  In America, men are homophobic and petrified of any sort of something that's emasculating.  It's a great thing to see the opposite.  Despite the fact that they hump you when you're dancing. ... That's another topic in it's entirety.    BE COMFORTABLE WITH ONESELF.

PICS FROM LIDO:

Kelly's gelato.  <3

LIDO

Ultimate Tourist.

Sleepy tourist

Flea

 Christa

This little girl was flying her kite - via her ponytail.

Revelation: The most unflattering thing in a human is to be uncultured.  I'll leave it at that.

On the way home, we were forced to wait in line for the vaporetto.  We were completely crammed and felt like cattle.  We met two lovely young men who were from Padua.  Their english sucked but I spoke some spanish to them and we got bye.  They were entralled by all of our beauty...typical.  :)  One was a break dancer.  He showed us some video.  He was pretty sick.  The other was sporting some zinc oxide chap stick-
All in all, they were really sweet.

Once we arrived back in Venezia, we stocked up on some groceries.  Since then, Kel and I have kicked 2 bottles of raboso y chianti.  We're pretty happy.  Life's great and I can't wait for what's in store for tomorrow.  I stink like a european, so- shower and bed.

Ciao

OUCH

My feet are swollen, black, and bleeding a bit.  I've yet to find the appropriate shoe to go out in.  Perhaps tomorrow night I'll wear sneakers out.

Today we're going to Lido.  I'm seriously considering going topless... Hey, when in Rome?  We'll scout out the situation.  As for right now, I'm running to go get the best cappuccino I've ever had.  They're really thick and bold.  It most certainly is not a skinny vanilla latte.  Load on the calories!

Here's some misc. pics:

This is the giant hoegarden I was telling you about.

Nutella to go, genius!

The group atop San Marco cathedral

San Marco Square

I want to be a relic.

Well I didn't write anything yesterday because I have not stopped moving.  Sheer exhaustion has enveloped by body yet I continue to run around.  I wouldn't be happy any other way.  Besides, that's pretty much how I live my life at home anyways!

Yesterday I visited San Marco Square.  San Marco the Evangelist was the most important relic to Venice.  San Marco was responsible for bringing fame and fortune to Venice.  He was buried in Alexandria and if you are in possession of a relic's bones, it's a big deal.  If you find or posses a relic's remains, the relic will watch over you and do what you wish in exchange for payment.  The offering is either money, or super old school times they poured wine into the tomb.  The bones allegedly cary an ora and emanate their spirit.  They also produce an oily resin that was magical.  That's just wacky to me.  Some stinky decaying body is magic?  Sorry, I'll believe it when Santa delivers me a Ferrari.  But OK...  When exhuming the body from wherever it was, they typically lowered a glass vile filled with olive oil.  It's believed to be magical oil.  Shazam, it cured the sick, blessed, and a whole bunch of other junk.

So here's the story:
Two merchants were hanging out by chance in Alexandria doing their thing.  It was around 829 AD.  Alexandria was predominantly Muslim at the time.  They were liberal but still had some Christian influences.  One of the merchants was from Tocello, the place I visited the day before.  So merchant 1 and merchant 2 got the brilliant idea to bring Mr. Marco back to Venice.  But wait, how the heck do you smuggle a mummified important dude back through customs?

Well, thing 1 and thing 2 thought came up with the idea to hide him in pork.  Brilliant!  The Muslims freaked out and didn't look.  The magical San Marco proved his powers on the way back to Venezia.  He saved the merchants ship from a storm and a few other instances happened along the way.  Now his ratty old bones are hanging in the basement of this church.

I had to sneak all these pictures!  Photos weren't allowed.

Floor and crypt

Words and pictures are impossible to describe this place.  The exterior has many different types of marble columns, all with a unique pattern.  Mosaics adorn all parts and it's a lot to handle.  Once I walked in, my jaw dropped.  I kind of felt like a cartoon character, ya know, the one where the jaw drops and the tongue has to be rolled up and put back inside.  It's one long rectangle with some stuff going on on the sides.  There are 5 domes and you don't know where to look.  The entirety of the ceiling is covered in an array of biblical scenes.  The floor was incredible.  It was also a mosaic but made with lots of different marble.  All the pieces were arranged in geometric patterns but all were different.  Marina said that most of the marble was common, and even local, but some pieces that were used are extremely rare and valuable.  They were brought as gifts for San Marco.  The floor itself was very wavy.  I'm not sure how often, but the church (especially the crypt downstairs where they keep San Marco) floods.  It's settled, but unevenly.  When we initially walked in, there were no lights on.  Parts of the church had gigantic windows which were sufficient.  Then about after 10 minutes of being there, they switched on the lights.  One by one, they came on and illuminated the mosaics.  Holy crap, it was incredible.  Not being too poetically cheesy, but the ceiling glimmered like thousands of diamonds.  We talked for a few minutes about some stuff and then we just sat and stared - in awe.  Everywhere you looked was something completely new and intriguing.

PROPAGANDA & JUDGEMENT
Let's think for a second.  When this church was resurrected, common people couldn't read.  The only truth they knew was what they saw - therefor they believed the church's word.  Oh hell, it's the scary Catholic church, you better believe them!  So that means that all the mosaics were essentially propaganda.  It was a way to subconsciously reenforce the church's word.  One of the apses depicted the final judgement just like the cathedral in Torchello.  They're so fixated on judgement!  Live and let live,   please.  When I was thinking about what to write for this part of my blog, my brain was spinning with frustration and lots of other stuff.  It's such a crock.  There were no expenses spared in the creation of this church.  Look at the columns on the outside.  It should be a sin to spend that much money on this creation.  Shoes, yes- churches, no.

Since I'm near comatose, I'm not feeling so angry and leaning more towards the passive side.  I'm sure I'll revisit the debate later.

The upper area of the church that we paid to see was well worth it.  It was a balcony which gave a great view of the entire thing.  This balcony was used to separate women from the mass.  We also could go outside from there and had a pretty great view of the whole square.

The Church

Overlooking San Marco Square

Kelly & Geena

Can you image sticking that many pieces of stone into a wall?

I'd go insane.

After that, a few of us ate lunch at a petite little outdoor cafe.  We were all famished.  I had some sort of prosciutto y brie sandwich.  It was mediocre.  I have to say that I have not been impressed with the food here.  Being a foodie, my expectations were sky high.  The first night's restaurant was good but since then, nothing has been spectacular.  I also have not explored that extensively... Hope is not lost.

Kelly's mozz y un pizza.

We all cooked a nice meal together back at the apartment and very cliche, but listened to Frank Sinatra.  Oh well, we all had a great time. 

NIGHTLIFE

YOU'RE ALLOWED TO DRINK IN PUBLIC HERE.  What a welcome change.  Rules are different. Maybe I can ride my bike on the sidewalk and smoke in the subways.  Wait, there aren't any roads to ride a bike on, and I don't smoke.  Strike that.  We all ventured to the Academia Bridge.  I heard that was the happening spot...

We met some lovely Argentinean family.  There were a few brothers, a sister, and a cousin.  I used my Spanish, and used it well.  They were looking for a salsa club, which they were unable to find but we jumped along for the ride.  We ended up where all the young people hang out.  It was really cool.  The bars were tiny and everyone was on the street.  If this were in America, the police would have a field day.  Riot and SWAT teams probably would be called to control the droves of unruly youth.  Regardless. I had fun.  I asked some local what he was drinking and he said prosecco and something bitter.  It was absolutely gross when I ordered it but - o well.  The bathrooms were pretty interesting.  Super low to the floor with no toilet seats or lids.  When I teach my little field hockey girls to play hockey, I tell them the ready position is PTS - public toilet stance.  I was PTSing all over Venezia.  It was quite a challenge, especially in my adorable vintage heels.  Note to self - no heels.  I ended up dying by the end of the night.

The group split up towards the end of the night and a few of us reunited with our Argentineans.  I took a flaming shot.  It was delicious.  We met people from all over the globe.  There were students from London who were comprised of an asian, indian, and a frenchie.  Also New Zealand.  I think that's a pretty diverse night.  No Americans though!  From there we followed the Argentineans to a crowded club.  It was - an experience.  We'll probably go back tonight and bring the rest of the group.  I'm pretty sure this was the place to be.  It was crowded and the music was strange, but really really really fun.

We strayed home around 4:30 am only to find out that the vaporetto (water taxis) don't run as frequently at night - or at all.  I still don't believe they exist.  We payed a taxi to take us home and went on our merry way.

This morning I was up by 9:30 and we trekked to Murano, the notorious glassblowing island.  First, we took a tour of Venice and I scoped out some great shops to buy stuff.  I also found the first real flower shop!

   

We also passed these along the way:

Murano was cool.  We went to see how glass blowing was created.  

There was glass everywhere.  Lot's of shops had junk.  Authenticity is a huge problem and the people are not happy about how much of the glass is counterfeit.  The piece which I purchased from from a lovely little artist.  It was a great little shop and they were playing Pink Floyd.  :)

We had lunch away from the bustle in a family owned (service was slow) garden cafe.  I had simply spaghetti bolognese.  It was OK.

I haven't slept in what seems like days because I never fully adjusted to the jetlag.  I'm gonna try to nap now before we head out for the night.  This whole experience is surreal.  The buildings are like a novelty to me.  It sort of feels like Disney world.  Cultures are not that extreme.  Things are different but nothing as drastic as I thought.  I'm getting by with Italian, sort of.  I understand it but have trouble communicating.  I went to the large grocery store and I was unaware that I had to weigh my bananas.  The cashier was horribly rude and started to trash talk me in Italian.  Stupid lady.  I can understand you but I wasn't quick enough/have to vocabulary to rebut.  Oh well, no bananas for me.  I haven't had anytime to work out and it's bothering me.  We walked for the entirety of today so my legs hurt but I need to run.  The beach is scheduled for tomorrow so that should be a nice relaxing treat.

NAP TIME.