European Vacation 2010, Day 3: Walking Tour of Venice

After another breakfast consisting of yogurt, a hard roll, and orange juice, the Rick Steves group met Elisabetta, a native Venetian and our guide for a tour through the heart of the city.

We headed south from our hotel (Pensione Guerrato), making our way slowly through the crowded streets to the Accademia Bridge (so named because it’s located next to the Accademia art gallery). Along the way, we stopped to tour the Basilica di Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari, yet another church. (Sorry to be dismissive. We toured many churches in Venice, and a few more in France. They blur together after awhile. Kris liked this one. Ask her to tell you about it.)

We also stopped at a shop that makes Venetian masks, where Elisabetta told us their history.

Sorry, I didn’t write down the name of this mask shop…

As you can tell from the video, Elisabetta was a kick. Besides having a great sense of humor, she was the best source we found for information on what life is really like in Venice.

Trouble in Venice
Most people believe that the biggest problem Venice faces is flooding. They think the city is sinking. Elisabetta says that actually the city’s current crisis is depopulation. Venice had 250,000 inhabitants in the 18th century and 160,000 people after World War II. But today, Venice has only 60,000 people.

She says the top reasons for this rapid drop in population are the difficulty finding work along with rising expectations. (Or, as we say around Get Rich Slowly, lifestyle inflation.) Plus, everyday costs are greater in Venice. Elisabetta said, “Milk might cost €1.25 here in Venice, but only €0.60 in Mestre [just across the water on the mainland]. It costs more to live here because things cost more to transport.”

Though Elisabetta didn’t mention it, I wonder if the tourist trade also has caused the cost of living to increase. There were a ton of tourists in Venice, even in late September. In fact, it seemed like the city is mostly tourists — like a Disneyland for old, rich white people.

Elisabetta thinks people should visit Venice in the winter, when it isn’t mobbed by foreigners. “I always suggest that people come to Venice in the winter,” she said. “Why? Because that’s the only time you can feel Venice. There’s a different rhythm of life.”

Elisabetta also talked a bit about the wonderful Venetian practice called the ombra. This is like a coffee break, but with a glass of wine. In fact, one morning I watched as a construction worker took a break at 10 a.m. to go into a shop for a glass of white wine (perhaps prosecco, a local sparkling wine). According to Elisabetta, folks who start work early (like garbage collectors, whose days begin at 4 a.m.) might have a glass of wine at 6 a.m. — but she doesn’t recommend it.

Note: I was shocked at how much wine people drank in Italy. I mean, I knew wine was popular, but wow! As I’ll mention when we get to Florence, one day we say three men order two liters of wine — for lunch! Yet another reason I loved Italy…

Back to our tour…
When we reached Piazza San Marco (a.k.a. St. Mark’s Square), the group parted ways. Kris and I scouted out a place near the river for pizza and prosecco. After lunch, we returned to Piazza San Marco to tour the Doge’s Palace, the highlights of which were the very dungeon-like dungeon and the Ponte dei Sospiri (or Bridge of Sighs).

Kris, in the courtyard of the Doge’s Palace

The Doge’s Palace and St. Mark’s Cathedral (under restoration)

Detail from a cornice of the Doge’s Palace

History lesson:

Italy hasn’t always been a unified country. In fact, for most of its history, the region has been a collection of independent city-states, of which Venice was once one of the most powerful. Because of its isolation (it’s located two miles from the mainland), it was easy to defend. It became a great naval power and an important center of trade.

For over one thousand years, Venice was ruled by The Doge (or Duke), who was elected for life by the city-state’s ruling elite. The Doge’s Palace was built in 1324; it’s nearly 700 years old. Its walls ooze history. In the 16th century, the palace was linked to the prison by the Bridge of Sighs. (The bridge was so named by Lord Byron in the 19th century, and is meant to suggest that the prisoners being led across it are sighing as they pass from Venice into captivity.)

Construction on St. Mark’s Basilica next door began in 1071, but wasn’t completed for over 600 years. (As you can see from the photo above, they’re still working on it.) St. Mark’s is probably the top tourist site in Venice — and yet Kris and I barely saw it. (I’ll mention why tomorrow.) We regret that…but it simply gives us another reason to return.

We met the tour group at 6 p.m. for a “pub crawl”. We went to three different cicchetti bars for wine and snacks. Cicchetti are basically appetizer plates, which I found similar to Spanish tapas. They might be olives or meats or small sandwiches or even just vegetables. It’s good stuff.

At the second cicchetti bar, I chatted with the server about soccer, which goes by the name calcio (or “kick”) in Italy. He gave me advice for seeing a match in Rome on Sunday between Lazio and an out-of-town rival. (Lazio is the region of Italy — like a state, I guess — in which Rome is located.) If the timing was fortuitous, the group might get to Rome in time for me to watch the match.

At 8 p.m., the group took an hour-long gondola ride on the Grand Canal. We were serenaded by a guitarist and vocalist, which I tried to capture on video.

Our night-time gondola ride in Venice

After the gondola ride, Kris and I stopped to buy sweets on the way back to the hotel. (In Venice, Kris developed a taste for meringues.)

European Vacation 2010, Day 2: Day Trip to Padua

After nearly twelve hours of much-needed sleep, Kris and I both woke at 4:30 a.m. We read and wrote in our journals. I was famished, so I ate some of my stash of airline snacks. (On the flight to Venice, I’d carefully avoided the peanuts and pretzels — I wanted to stick to my diet!)

At seven, we headed down to the breakfast room of the Pensione Guerrato. There we had the first of many continental breakfasts, all of which consisted of hard rolls, yogurt, cheese, granola, and coffee (for Kris) or orange juice (for me).

Note: I hated these breakfasts at first, but by the time we left Paris, I had become accustomed to them. In fact, I liked them. My breakfasts now that I’m home? A hard roll, a slice of cheese, some smoked salmon, and maybe a glass of grapefruit juice.

After breakfast, we took the train to Padua (or Padova, as it’s known in Italy), about thirty minutes inland. We were both very nervous. This was the first time we’d ever ventured out on our own in a land where we could not speak the language. (I had studied a little Italian before we arrived, but only a very little.) Plus, we were both anxious about pickpockets. Everything we read warned us about pickpockets in France and Italy. (And as many of you know, Kris had money stolen from her purse within 15 minutes of arriving in London in 2007, so we know pickpocketing occurs!)

But we didn’t have any trouble.

We walked to the Scrovegni Chapel, where it took us about twenty minutes to figure out how to enter. (I’m not kidding!) We were able to take the tour despite not having reservations. We spent fifteen minutes looking at the frescoes by Giotto. Alas, we were not allowed to take photos — and a docent stood by to enforce the rule.

Later, we walked down to the university district and looked at the produce market. Many Italian cities have these semi-permanent open-air markets where vendors sell flowers, fruit, fish, meat, vegetables, and more. They’re like our farmers’ markets, but they occur every day instead of once a week.

Shopping for produce at the Rialto market in Venice

Mushrooms at the market in Padua

Seafood for sale at the market in Venice

Seafood for sale at the Rialto market in Venice

Prosciutto in a typical Ventian store (not at the market)

We bought a couple of slices of pizza and sat outside at a table to eat. Apparently, however, the table belonged to the cafe next door because they told us we couldn’t eat there.

Waiter: Prego? [Note: Prego is a sort of all-purpose Italian word. In many instances, such as here, it means “please”. Other times it means “you’re welcome” — and sometimes other things, as well.]

Kris: No. [As in, we don’t want anything.]

…A few minutes pass…

Owner: Prego?

J.D.: No.

Owner (almost growling): NOT FOR PIZZA!

This was our introduction to the concept of coperto. If you want to sit at a table in Italy — especially in northern Italy — you have to pay for the privilege. You can eat at the counter (or get your food to go) for free, but if you eat at a table, you pay coperto, a cover charge of between €1 and €3 per person.

Embarrassed, we picked up our pizza and left.

A typical Italian pizza, exactly like the ones they serve at Mi Famiglia

On our walk back to the train station, Kris got a compliment. A woman stopped her and began to ask directions in Italian. Kris smiled and tried to mutter a reply. The woman realized she’d made a mistake, shook her head, and walked on to find a real Italian.

Back in Venice, we took a nap. At 1600, we went downstairs to the breakfast room to meet our Rick Steves tour group, which comprised Sarah (our tour guide) and 25 other tourists. We spent about 90 minutes introducing ourselves and going over ground rules. Then we headed out for a short walking tour of Venice.

You see this dozens of times a day in Venice (one reason I want to live there!)

The walking tour led us to Anonimo Veneziano — or The Anonymous Venetian — where we got to know other members of the group over a long dinner, which included:

Crostini with tomatoes (and cheese?)
White vegetarian lasagna
Seared steak served over arugula, zucchini, and eggplant
Tiramisu (I ate a fruit plate instead)

After dinner, some of us took a short stroll to Piazza San Marco (a.k.a. St. Mark’s Square), where we heard orchestras playing and watched other tourists crowding around — just like us!

I apologize for the focus problems — my camera has limitations

We fell asleep to the sounds of noisy chatter in the plaza below the Pensione Guerrato — and the strains of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama”.

European Vacation 2010, Day 1: Venice, Italy

Note: I apologize for the delay in posting the story of our trip to Europe. As in 2007, we found it was actually tricky to find internet access abroad. And though we’ve been home a week, now is the first time I’ve had to write about our adventures. I plan to post day-by-day updates for Italy, and then three updates total for France, so this travel journal will have about 13 parts! Starting with this one.

Kris and I woke at 3 a.m. on September 25th to shower and finish packing. Tiffany drove us to the airport, where I actually managed to make it through security without incidence for once. (I always get stopped at security for one thing or another; I was stopped on our flight home from this trip!)

For our flight to New York, we were seated near the rear of the plane where we were surrounded by a large group of Ukrainians who drank copiously and bantered boisterously. One of the two bathrooms behind us had a faulty locking mechanism, so a flight attendant place it out of order, which produced long lines for the loo during the entire flight.

At JFK, we disembarked through the exact same gate we flew home from the last time were here, coming back from England in 2007. After walking to the far end of the terminal to wait out our four-hour layover, I passed the time by doing body-weight exercises: sit-ups, squats, lunges, and so on. I was very worried about going “soft” on this trip.

The flight from JFK to Venice was uneventful. We watched TV shows and movies and played videogames on the iPad. We dominated in-flight trivia. (I always dominate in-flight trivia. I had the top score for the flight, as usual.) Kris napped a little; I did not.

Arrival in Venice
After our flight landed in Venice, we cleared customs quickly (it’s only in the U.S. that customs takes forever) and walked to the waterbus (or alilaguna) terminal. The waterbus follows a heavily-tracked aqua-highway marked by hundreds of wooden pilings. Boats ply their way along this dredged canal (outside the pilings, the water is very shallow), speeding from the mainland to the island city of Venice.

Kris, waiting for the alilaguna outside Venice

Kris, waiting for the alilaguna/waterbus to take us to Venice

The waterbus let us off at the Ponte di Rialto stop. The Rialto Bridge is the oldest of the four bridges that span Venice’s grand canal; the first bridge here was built in 1255, and the current bridge was completed in 1591 — when Shakespeare was alive.

Note: Sad but true: I have no photo of the Rialto Bridge. In fact, I have no photos of many interesting things from our trip.

From the Rialto Bridge, we made our way through the heavy crowd to the nearby Pensione Guerrato, our hotel. Immediately it was clear that Venice was like nowhere else we’d ever been. The city is built atop more than 100 small islands, and most of the buildings are hundreds of years old. The cobble-stone streets are often very narrow, and you’re constantly crossing bridges as you move from one place to another. Because of Venice’s nature, wheeled vehicles make no sense. Not even bikes. (You’d ride your bike 50 feet and then have to stop to carry it across a canal!) All traffic is on foot — or by boat. It’s awesome!

Water traffic on the Grand Canal in Venice

Water traffic on the Grand Canal, just in front of the train station (low building on right)

By 1300 hours in Venice, I’d been awake for 25 hours straight. It took almost precisely 24 hours to reach our hotel room from the time we woke up in Portland the morning before. (Which was 3 a.m., as you’ll recall.) Our goal was to go until 1900 or 2000 and then crash, so we showered and headed out for a much-needed meal.

We ate outside in the sun (too hot for me, just right for Kris) at Trattoria da Bepi. We were surprised at how well the staff spoke English — well enough to joke around with us. (But, as we’d learn, this was par for the course in the touristy spots of Italy.) I had mussels and chicken kabobs and 375ml of prosecco, Italy’s sparkling wine. (Note: Unlike most of the reviewers at the site I linked to, we found Trattoria da Bepi to be just fine. Nothing great, but not bad either.)

A quick walk through the city
After lunch, we wandered the wide boulevard of Strada Nova (the “new” street) toward the train station, over the bridge, and then back to the Pensione Guerrato. Along the way, we learned how Venice’s streets twist and turn like a fantastic maze. They also change names constantly. For example, Strada Nova started as Sesiere Cannaregio and ended as Rio Terá de la Madalena and Rio Terá San Leonardo. Confusing!

J.D., walking down a narrow street in Venice

The streets were crowded on this warm Sunday afternoon. We stopped for two scoops of gelato each, the first of many such scoops we ate in Italy. We also looked through a Venetian supermarket.

Our exhaustion and different travel styles — Kris wants everything spelled out, but I’d rather go with the flow and make things up as we go along — led to short tempers in Venice. Kris wanted answers to questions I couldn’t give her (“How will we know where and when to board the waterbus?” “Where does this street go?”). I’m perfectly content just muddling my way through, making mistakes as I go along. That means I’m willing to trust my gut in the tight and twisty unmarked streets, while Kris would rather verify that every street is either right or wrong before continuing. So we bickered.

Mostly, though, we were just tired and hungry.

Note: I know some people don’t like it when I write that Kris and I bicker, but come on! We bicker, just like all couples. And we often bicker while traveling (or doing home remodeling). To deny that is stupid, and to pretend we’re something we’re not. But we love each other even when we’re fighting.

After nearly 30 hours without sleep, I was ready to drop. So that’s what I did. After we finally made our way back to the hotel (it was a long walk), I crawled into bed and slept for twelve hours.

The view from the Pensione Guerrato

The Pensione Guerrato from the plaza below (our room is on top floor with open shutters)

Perfectly Content

Photos, videos, and narrative of our trip to Europe are coming soon. We had a great time.

Today, though, I want to say that I can’t imagine anything better than a rainy afternoon spent upstairs with my cats, sorting comic books while sipping a scotch and soda, listening to classic country music, waiting for my sweetie to come home.

This is what life is all about. I’m not joking.

(The only way this could be better is if we were expecting to meet friends for dinner tonight…)

Raccoons at Rosings Park

We’ve had cat-food bandits at Rosings Park for the past couple of weeks. We’ve suspected raccoons, but we never had proof until now. Yesterday morning, Toto and I had some visitors:

You can read the full story of the raccoons on my porch at my newly-revived animal blog.

Small

Before Kris and I left for the jungles of Belize last February, we made a trip to REI to buy travel clothes. This was a big step for me. For the past decade (or two), I’ve purchased most of my clothes from Costco and Goodwill. As you all know well, I’m not one for fashion. I want my clothes cheap.

But something has happened over the past year: I’ve discovered I actually like the clothes from REI — and I like the idea they sell. (Yes, I’m admitting that I’m happily swayed by the image that REI portrays. I want to be the outdoors-y/travel-y type.) So, before we left for Belize, Kris and I bought some new clothes from REI.

I knew I wanted a new pair of zip-off pants, for example. Five or six years ago, I picked up a pair of pants for $6 at an REI “used gear sale”. These light-weight pants had lots of pockets and the legs zipped off so the pants could convert to shorts. I’ve worn those zip-off pants nearly every day for the past five or six summers. But I couldn’t wear them to Belize. Though they were size large, they were too small.

In February, I was near my peak weight. I had topped the scale at 213 pounds on January 1st, and I still weighed nearly 210 when we made our trip to REI. As I tried them on, I was dismayed to find that I didn’t fit in any of the large zip-off pants. And I barely fit in the extra large. I bought a pair anyhow, and I spent a week in the jungle wearing zip-off pants that pinched around the waist.

Six months later
Today, I weight about 180 pounds, and my weight is dropping. My waist has shrunk from 42.5 inches on January 1st to 35 inches on September 1st. The clothes I wore at the start of the year — including my extra-large zip-off pants from REI — no longer fit. This is a Good Thing.

Throughout the summer, I’ve been buying new clothes, but only one piece at a time. I know I’m dropping weight, and I plan to have shed it forever. So, I’m not about to continually replace my wardrobe. Instead, I buy a new shirt or pair of pants now and then, and wear each piece of clothing constantly.

For example, I bought a pair of size 32 jeans at Costco in early August. Yes, I could have kept wearing my size 36 and size 38 jeans, but they looked ridiculous cinched so tight. Plus, my belts are now getting too small, also. So, I bought a pair of size 32 — my first size 32 in about a decade. At first, they fit just right. Today, they’re a little loose.

Note: It cracks me up that sizes for American men’s clothes are no longer accurate — at least not the stuff I buy. A size 32 pair of jeans fits me when I have a 36-inch waist, just as when my waist was 42-1/2 inches, I could wear a size 38 (though it was tight). That’s a full four inches of slop!

Kris and I are now preparing for our upcoming trip to France and Italy. Once again, we made a trip to REI (to take advantage of their Labor Day sale). And once again, I shopped for a pair of zip-off pants. This time, I was surprised to find that the medium pants were loose in the waist. It didn’t make sense to buy them, especially since I plant to keep losing weight. So, I did something I’ve only rarely done in my life: I tried on the small pants.

It turns out that the small zip-off pants are tight. There’s no question. They’re wearable, but tight. But I bought them anyhow. And I bought a pair of size 30 shorts that were also just a bit tight.

Extra small
While shopping for my small pants, I also tried on some shirts and sweaters. “That sweater is way too tight,” Kris said when I showed her a size small that I liked. “You’re not that small.” She was right. (Kris Gates is always right.)

Although my gut is shrinking, my upper body has only shrunk a little because I’ve also been building muscle. I’m no longer a large (or extra large) for shirts and sweaters, but I’m definitely a medium.

It’s edifying and exciting to realize that I can now wear size small for men’s pants and shorts. I can squeeze into size 30, too. Will I ever make it down to size 28? I don’t know. It’s not really a goal, but it may happen. I’m perfectly content with size 30, to be honest (or even size 32), but I also know that I have about 16 or 17 pounds left to drop, and that probably means another three inches off my waist. And using standard sizing, when I have a 32-inch waist, I’ll be able to fit into size 28 pants.

Now, that’s small!

(P.S. If you know somebody who would like a pair of plum-colored extra-large zip-off pants, please let me know. They have a 30″ inseam.)

Color Film from 1922

Here, via Jason Kottke (via clusterflock), are a series of Kodak Kodachrome color film tests — from 1922.

If my Vintage Pop blog weren’t ~~dormant~~ dead, you can be sure I’d feature this video prominently. I love it. I love looking at the styles and mannerisms, I love the ethereal music, and I love knowing that this footage was shot some years before sound became prominent in film (I’d always thought sound came before color).

Also from Kottke today, this fascinating Slate story about the most isolated man on the planet.

Piglets

It’s been a l-o-n-g time since I had fun with photography, but I’ve been using my cameras more and more recently. I like it. And while my “photography eye” hasn’t quite returned yet, I am beginning to see possibilities.

For instance, today at the Clackamas County Fair, I spied a litter of piglets. I knew right away that I wanted to photograph them. And I even knew how I wanted to compose the photograph. I waited a couple of minutes for their pen to clear of people-lets and then worked to compose a shot. I still have no sense of lighting, but I ended up with this, which both Kris and I like:

“You should enter that photo in next year’s county fair,” Kris told me tonight. Maybe I will.

(p.s. As you’ll read at Get Rich Slowly in the morning, Kris’ triple-berry jelly was awarded “class champion” this year — it was the best jelly in the county!)

The Hundred in the Hands

My brother Jeff dropped me a line the other day: “Just heard this song on the radio this morning…thought it sounded kind of like JD music.” Why, yes it is. Here’s the song “Pigeons” by The Hundred in the Hands:

It’s not available on iTunes yet, but as soon as it is, I’ll be picking it up. It’ll fit well in my 2010 mix. (Plus, that video is kicky.)

Note: Jeff and I had a chance to chat about this song and others like it. We feel this has a vaguely 1980s sounds, as do many of my favorite songs lately. (Check out Dragonette!) This trend seems to have started with the Postal Service about seven years ago. I like it.

Jumping Rope: How to Do Double-Unders

This probably of little interest to anyone other than me (and perhaps Paul Jolstead), but I wanted to bookmark this video for future reference:

Double Unders from Patrick Cummings on Vimeo.

This video describes how to “double-unders”, which is a jump-roping technique common in Crossfit. Instead of jumping and letting the rope pass under your feet just once, you spin the rope so fast it passes under your feet twice per jump.

I can’t do this.

I’ve been trying for months, and I can’t get the method down. I’ve landed a few double-unders, but can never successfully transition to the next jump. But one of my goals for the next few weeks is to learn how to do this. I’ve already done my first pull-up (and almost strung two together), and have finally learned how to kick up to a handstand (which I can hold for 45 seconds), but I can’t do a double-under, and I want to.

And that concludes today’s edition of J.D.’s Crossfit Journal.