By Staff
So, there we were, standing in front of our hotel in Venice.
Two very tired tourists, doing Europe on $5 a day, feet bruised and blistered, sweaty and dirty from the train ride from Milan, and one porter who was about to drop dead (I knew I'd have to pay for his funeral!). You will recall that we were bumped off our flight from Geneva to Venice and stranded in Milan.
The hotel – a reassignment from the hotel we were originally booked into that went bankrupt – was dingy and dirty.
By the time we'd walked half way across the city, up and over the many bridges spanning the canals, we were ready to enjoy a nice room and comfy bed.
Wrong! Garbage cans over- flowed by the front door. The desk clerk looked like a character out of some "Friday the 13th" movie. The stairs and hallways were narrow, dark and musty. The room was tiny.
The bed sheets were clean – the only things in the room that were clean. Toothpaste sediment clung to the drinking glasses by the sink, the windows looked out onto a small branch of the canal (I was certain that I spied a dead dog floating by!) and grunge decorated the bathroom. There was no shower curtain – no problem. The facility needed a good hosing down, anyway.
And then there was the problem of flushing the toilet. Two switches were on the wall above the fixture – one flushed and the other called the maid. Both switches were labeled "maid."
Closing my eyes and punching one switch, the toilet flushed. Great! But then I forgot which switch I'd pushed!
I looked in the mirror and saw reflected in the dusty, grimy glass a face that looked like it had been in a minstrel show – black soot from having hung my head out the train's window covered my face. Only my eyes were half way clean.
We released our feet from the dress shoes, doffed our suits and fell into the lumpiest bed I'd ever tried to sleep in.
Just having been in Geneva, where everything was almost squeaky clean, Venice was a challenge – and somewhat of a disappointment.
The next day we did the tourist things, bought Venetian glass, ate some delicious food, toured the sites of the city and fed the pigeons in San Marco Square.
Some day I'd like to return to Venice – first class this time -and see it through an adjusted and more positive attitude.
Hopefully we can get there before it completely sinks into the sea!
The Venice experience was only in keeping with the many glitches of that trip.
Before we even got started, I had a long, drawn-out argument with my local draft board before I was given permission to leave the country (the Vietnam war was in full swing).
Our original plans called for a stay in Israel and Egypt – the Seven Days War shot down that idea. We left Detroit just when the city exploded (literally) in a race riot.
By the time we arrived in Athens (after Venice, Florence and Rome) a junta had deposed the king and military rule was in force. And then, flying down to Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) our plane had to bypass Egypt, adding an extra two hours in the air.
Landing in Rhodesia to visit Naomi's parents, we were again in a military state, complete with roadblocks, gas rations and armed police everywhere.
Somehow, wild animals seemed more tame than the humans we encountered. I'll save some of that story for a later visit on my front porch.
I often wonder what became of that poor old porter who carried a hundred pounds of our luggage that night. I gave him a healthy tip, though. Perhaps he went home to his wife and children and recounted his version of the story.
I can hear it now: "You won't believe the ignorant Americans I encountered today! Two of them! They stupidly booked into a bankrupt hotel and I had to find the hotel that was reassigned. It was in a very bad neighborhood halfway across town – I was rather nervous even going there! If they don't slip and fall into the canal, I'll eat a dead dog floating by. But here's the tip the fat man gave me. Let's buy some pizza!"