Boat, bus and eventually plane: Saying goodbye to Venice and Nora

On the fondamenta, heading towards Nora's.

The turn to Nora's place.

Behind Nora's place, on the lagoon, at sunset.

The morning I left Venice, Monday, 21 July, I finally gave up on sleeping about 15 minutes before my alarm was set. Too many gnats, too much worrying about my lost ring, and definitely too much obsessing about whether I had done a good enough job packing. I had bought some breakable things, which I carefully packed in my carry-on bag, and tried to cram the rest into my suitcase. But more about that later.

Nora, of course, had awakened long before I had, and as I got dressed, she made me coffee and looked for my ring. Because we were taking a boat AND a bus to the airport, she had carefully checked schedules the night before to make sure I'd have plenty of time.

The boat and bus rides to the aiport were uneventful. During the boat ride I stood so I could see everything one last time, and I was again jarred by our arrival at the bus terminal at Piazzale Roma, where I always felt annoyed at the intrusion of the outside world in the form of cars, buses and industry.

In Nora's neighborhood, looking toward the lagoon. The airport is to the left in the distance.

At the airport, I quickly checked in, and then we went to the customs window to get my tax-free form stamped. Because I had spent a certain amount of money, as a tourist, I was able to get the tax back, in the form of 23 E. I then had to have the form stamped at the airport on my way home and mail it from the airport to verify this. We waited in line behind an enormous family of Asian tourists who were struggling to explain the vast amount of their purchases. Unfortunately for us, various members of the family kept inexplicably disappearing just as the man at the window needed to speak to them. This went on for minutes. We watched as they opened their suitcases crammed full of high-end purchases, all labeled Chanel or Gucci or with some other fancy designer label. They must have spent a fortune, and as I waited behind them to verify my tax rebate on my piddling, designer-free purchase, I was irritated. Finally, another person appeared behind the counter and so, I was quickly able to present my tax form, have it stamped and mail it. Then we were off for coffee.

For a woman who doesn't allow herself to be photographed, Nora took great joy in documenting my departure. She took a picture of me from the back, as I'm extending my arms heavenward in question, wondering where the bathroom is. She took a picture of me walking toward her after I successfully deciphered which mailbox slot in which to drop my tax form. Finally, she took a picture of me going through security mostly blocked by a large man behind me in line. When I realized she was trying to get a picture, I unsuccessfully tried to duck and weave around him, but the picture she got shows mostly him. Oh well. He was a very large man.

So far, so good. No problems. No issues. But I haven't reached Zurich yet. Duhduhduuuuuuuh.

The Rialto bridge, which I once made the mistake of saying was less attractive than almost any other bridge in Venice. As Nora noted, it is NOT very attractive when the shutters are down, but it IS attractive when the shutters are up, as they are here. I submit this picture here, as atonement.

Nevertheless, the Ponte Tre Archi is clearly the best looking bridge in Venice.