Lost in Venice

The weather forecast for Venice was overcast with a chance of rain. Grumble, grumble.

We left Pula in clear weather, with an easy run to the Slovenian border.

(It's easy to tell when you're getting close to Slovenia: the motorway becomes a goat-track, which continues to the Italian border before transforming into another motorway.)

Border control was more rigorous than at the Bosnian border. The border cop stared at the passports for minutes, looking for something - signs of forgery, immigration stamps from Libya and Iran, hundred Euro notes stuffed into the binding - I have no idea what. Eventually his frowning muscles gave way, he handed our passports back, and waved us on.

In Italy we bypassed Trieste, which looks highly bypassable, and watched BMWs and Mercedes overtake us as we doddled along at a mere 130 kph.

The clouds looked ominous, although as we drew closer it began to clear. Just north of Venice a ray of light broke through the clouds, like the light of God in. Cecil B. DeMille movie. I expected to drive past Charlton Heston in a robe with a map of Venice engraved on a stone tablet.

The GPS was working flawlessly, and I announced we only had a turn off the motorway, and another left turn a few kilometres after that, and we'd head straight onto the island of Venice.

Unfortunately the GPS didn't know about the roadworks leading into Venice. Lots and lots and lots of roadworks. 

We followed the signs, which required us to drive in circles, sometimes on the wrong side of the road, doubke back the ...and we're back on the bridge to Venice. we came, then around again, and apart from one brief diversion off a roundabout made it to the port without to the port without difficulty.

Mario and I dropped the luggage with the Princess Cruise Line baggage handlers and left Anna and Emma to check in while we returned the rental car to Sixt Car Rentals at Marco Polo Airport.

The GPS showed a simple route to the airport. Of course the roadworks meant that was never going to work, because the road we're looking for is missing. As are signs to the airport. 

So I'm improvising my navigation: turn left, turn right, go straight, under the overpass, take the exit...

...and we're back on the bridge to Venice.

We turn back, and try again: turn right, turn left, go past the exit, turn right, hit the detour, go in a circle...

...and we're back on the bridge to Venice.

The area is starting to look very familiar by now, especially a passenger walkway over the road we've driven under three times now. 

We give it another shot, and finally find the road to the airport. Success. And it only took an hour and a half.

The bus makes the trip back to the ship in about 20 minutes. Oh, that road.

Finally onboard and settled we take a shuttle boat from the docks to a pier just past Piazza San Marco, right on dusk. The skies are clear, the light is perfect. Fantastic.

We walk through the Piazza, grab dinner at a place just out of tourist central - far enough away to get a decent feed, not far enough away to completely avoid tourist prices - and drift through the streets of Venice up to Rialto Bridge. 

We're glad it's the off-season, because Venice is packed. Over summer the crowds must be horrendous.

After buying gelato we head back towards the shuttle ferry, harrassed by the Nigerian* vendors selling knock-off handbags and watches. While waiting for the boat to dock we heard someone blow a whistle, and the vendors quickly scooped up their wares and bolted. Sixty seconds after that a couple of cops saunter out of an alleyway.

Next trip I have to bring a whistle. I figure I can panic them three or four times before I get knifed.

* Maybe Ghanans. Dunno. I didn't ask for ID.