Venice In two rainy days

W hen traveling, there usually is a good and a bad time to visit a place. No, I am not referring to the weather, social or other events that may interfere with your journey. I am mostly referring to your state of mind, your expectations or series of events that have led you in that place.

No matter what I am contemplating here, not many people would accept my arguing when the generic term “place” is replaced with the specific destination “Venice”. This is also what I thought when Ryanair canceled our return flights from Morocco and in order to get back, we would have to stay for two days in Venice.

If you have read the last part of the Moroccan story, we left the african country tired after fifteen days having crossed chaotic cities, magnificent deserts and impressive mountains under a hot sun and clear skies. The moment we landed in Italy we were greeted with a stormy weather that would accompany us for the full duration of our stay there. We put  our jackets on after so many days and started looking for warm clothes. We arrived at Mestre and realized that everything here was by the book again. Our easy-going and relaxed yet tremendously hospitable landlord at Marrakesh was long gone and a strict (at the boundaries of rude) receptionist showed us our rooms.

We took the bus to Venice and entered the city.

I am born and raised in a city that its most distinct landmark is its old venetian port. And suddenly I found myself crossing a bridge that brought me to the actual origin of this culture and architecture. Everything had a kinda familiar sense.

No matter how familiar it felt, Venice certainly had the “wow” factor. The rain and moody weather could not overshadow it at all. And I was left speechless and amazed by all the scenery around me. So where are the photos then?

I am still wondering about that.

My mind was still roaming at the vast desert and seductive sunsets in the middle of nowhere. Here I was feeling overwhelmed by the crowds. The tourist crowds that is. To the extend that I could not focus on the larger picture. I would seek small things to put my attention on.

Or complex ones that would remind me the chaos of the Moroccan cities.

But above all, I was trying to find these secluded alleys or rare moments that could possibly be without tens of people posing in front of something.

The night fell around us and along with it, I started to get used to the new scenery around me. The fine red wine and the lovely pasta had their part in making me feel better. Fewer people around, nice italian music coming out from here and there.

Everything started to feel better. Next day was a different day. I could be a positive traveler again. I could be relaxed and admire the beauty around. I could let Matina guide me to all the monuments, history and art that she had studied and now was taking real form in front of our eyes.

But again and again I failed to take even a proper photo of all these famous landmarks. Instead I would always focus to the life around us.

The cloudy atmosphere was preparing us for rain. And it soon came in full strength. This led us to a vineria to relax, have a great red wine and contemplate about what we had seen. Discussing about art and history with the company of wine and the surrounding sounds and images of a stormy weather was nothing short of amazing.

The wine led to a wonderful dinner and the dinner to a lovely espresso. How could the whole visit to Venice end better?

In the end, these were the things that remained in me more than anything else. If it weren’t for the previous 15 days of roaming the Moroccan land, I would probably be ecstatic about Venice. Now, I can only write these few things and share these photos. I am pretty sure the next time I’ll be here it will be different 🙂

Venice, 2015.

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