Va Bene, Italia!

Right then, well I'm sure you're all wondering if I've dropped off the face of the earth by now. If you haven't been wondering, well, then poo on you!

But in all seriousness, I've just been real busy travelling around and all that jazz. I haven't had as much access to computers as I may have liked, but at least now I can try and update as much as I can while I'm in Australia. But of course, tat's another story, for a later date. Right now, It's time to go back a few weeks to Italy.

Venice, to be precice.

Arriving at the airport outside of Venice is a rather interesting experience. It reminds me of Deer Lake back home. It's quite a small airport, but fairly modern, with little to no security on entering the airport. I know I'm coming from one of the European Union countries, but still, I figured at least there'd be passport or customs control. Instead it was simply walk off the plane, pick up your bags, and walk out the front door. Even Cuba had more thorough procedures, and that airport was even smaller again. Unfortunately for me, my arrival in Venice was during the dark hours of night, and finding my Bed and Breakfast was rather...daunting, to say the least.

Do you all remember the story in greek mythology of the Minotaur, of how it was trapped in a Labyrinth in Crete and slain by Theseus. Well, ignore the part about Teseus and the big-ass bull, and just focus on the labyrinth. Right, got the picture in your head? Good, now whatever you've imagined, make the walls come closer and tighter around you, and make then two or three stories high, and then take away the light, and add freezing cold temperatures to boot. To go one step further, add hundreds of bridges to the mix. Ok, once you've done that, you'll have some idea of what navigating Venice in the middle of the night was like.

I kid you not! This place was quite the literal labyrinth to behold even at the best of times. Even during the day it was difficult to get my bearings, even with a good map. Yes, the night before was far more difficult than it should have been due to the fact that I had a crap map showing only about two percent of the roads in Venice, but still, crazy. After a good two hours wandering around in the cold, stopping in at shops along the way to get directioins (and have one of the best sandwiches I've ever had at some mariner-themed cafe) I did find my way...

...only to think it was the wrong spot and have to ask for more directions until someone called for me and physically walked me to the location I needed. It wasn't my fault that the sign for 'Happy Venice Hostel' was on a tiny brass plate next to a series of door bells. Heh heh, though I am rather impressed with myself that I found the place on my own with a few minor directions. Even the gentleman who eventually called and navigated me there said that it would be impossible to find do to the numbers on the streets and houses not following any order whatsoever. He was right, but he never counted on me being from Newfoundland where we have some pretty confusing streets and numbering systems as well sometimes.

I was greeted by this wonderful older lady by the name of Gina. Of course, Gina spoke not a word of English, so my entire tour of her home and my room for the night was done completely in Italian and accompanied by a lot of hand gestures. Yeah, I looked like quite the fool I guess, but it is rather incredible what can be accomplished with a few hand gestures and lots of smiles and laughter. When left to take a look around my room, it was really a culture experience that I've not had for quite some time. The whole room was done up in an Italian style, and I hope unique to Venice itself. Stone floors, long blinds (Venitian, or course, but since I'm in venice then they're just blinds, right?), and of course a single hot water heater in the corner next to the bed. You can see in my pictures that even the pictures on the walls are or Italian scenes. And to top it off I even had slippers and a housecoat. There are hotels that don't do such things unless you pay for the presidential suite. A very warm and inviting atmosphere, to be sure.

Over the next few days I explored Venice to the best of my abilities, this time with a far more detailed map that Gina was able to provide for me. Bless her! In any case, I did come across some rather interesting instances. Now for the grocery store lovers reading this (Dad) this first bit will apply directly to you. When picking up some fresh fruit at one of the local shops, I not only had issues with the self-weighing and tagging system, but I was awestruck with the number of styles of Olive oil there was available to buy. Sure, I expected there to be some, bring in Italy and all, but not this many, In such a small shop, I counted 41 different types of olive oil. 41! That's unheard of in any North American shop. Of course, it all made sernce once I started eating some traditional Italian food, Pizza and Pasta. Olive oil adds such a nice flavor to the sauces used. Mmmmm mmmm mmmmmm! I will be attempting to replicate such sauces once I settle in one spot.

Aside from the delicious food, the fairly friendly people, and the convoluted roadways, (Aiden was accurate with the whole spaggeti imagery) the most incredible experience I had was walking around the San Marco Basillica. Now that is a truly collosal structure, and so artful. Every surface has a carving, and every carving is different. Paintings adorn the walls, while spires jut from the domed rooftops. And the square was just as open as I had imagined it. Now Joel, this one's for you, buddy! When you go play assassins creed, pay attention in Venice when you get to the square of San Marco and have to infiltrate the basillica. The reason being, is that ist appears to be completely accurate right down to the bridges leading away from the square. It is really unbelievable how accurate those game designers were. If only I could get up on the roof to look around, I'd really have an idea then as to the accuracy. But of course, I'd probably be arrested as well.

When you go to Venice to eat, I have one piece of advice for you...

...Be patient!

The reason I bring this up is due to a tip I was given on one of my tourist documents. It advised that Italians make an event out of eating, so eveything is drawn out and a host who presents you the bill right away will be considered rude. And frankly, it was right! After each meal I had the bill did not arrive until I requested it, and even then it usually took a good few minutes regardless of whether the restaurant was empty or full. It was refreshing, not to be pushed out the door as quickly as possible by the wait staff. Having said this, I now have some new ideas for foods when I get home, particularly in the bread department. I won't talk about the Spaghetti Bolognese, or even the Pizza I had. No, those are best saved for a question and answer period in person. What i will talk about is the unique way they did Bruchette. It was one slice of bread, very thinly sliced, but nearly the size of the dinner plate it was presented on. Toasted, topped with fresh tomatoes, spices, huge pieces of garlic, and of course copious amounts of olive oil. To be honest, I've never had anything like it. Not quite filling, but tastier than most appetizers I've ever had the chance to consume in my lifetime.

Actually, screw it, I'll get to the masks later. For now, I'll do a little more writing on the food portion. As I mentioned before, I also partook in the ritual consuming of a Spicy Sausage Pizza, as well as Spaghetti Bolognese. The Pizza, I might add, was again, probably the best pizza I've had in a long time, perhaps ever. Pizza Delight, Louis Gee's, Domino's, eat your heart out because this is true Pizza. The sauce was olive oil based, but very simple; Tasty as all hell though despite or perhaps because of the simplicity. Then it was just mozzarella cheese and italian sausage. That's it, aside from the fact that the crust was thin and crispy. It wwas one of the more simply pizzas I've had the pleasure of eating, but surprisingly the most tasty. I guess nothing beats fresh ingredients, a fire-kissed crust, and piping hot serving temperatures to increase the flavor of a food. Oh, this was at Mamo restaurant. It's close to the Basillica I mentioned earlier, so go there if you can. You may have troubles finding it though, as its off in a small series of back alleys away from the main tourist path.

The other item of nourishment I had was the Spaghetti Bolognese. It, again, had less ingredients, less meat, and even less sauce than I would normally have on a pasta back home. But of course, fresh ingredients have won out yet again. The small amounts of meat in the dish tasted like sheep, or some other type of gamey meat. I'm sure it wasn't moose, but it was tougher like what ground moose sometimes is. Maybe they have weird cattle ther, I don't know. In any case, it was done in the tradition of Aldo, who stayed with my mom and dad for a time, and tossed in the sauce before served. I think I'll do this with all of my dishes from now on. It limits the overuse of sauce, while enhancing the taste to the highest extreme. Well done, Italia! This was also where I had the Bruchette, as well as a unique experience with drinking glasses. Normally, water glasses are tall, large glasses filled to the brim. Strangely, the glass served to me here, and come to think of it, at most of the restaurants, was rather small. Almost the side of an expresso coffee cup back home. Strangely, this filling and filling and filling some more caused me to drink more fluids than if I had one glass filled to the brim. Hmmmmmm, maybe they're on to something here. Perhaps this is a method of prolonging the meal, as they are noted to do. Bah, whatever, though I am slowly but surely outlining my dream kitchen as I go to these different places. Heh, heh, heh. It's gonna be weird that's for sure. Global house and kitchen, here I come!

Now, I just need to make a whole heap of money and I'm set. Riiiigggghhhhtttttt! Talk to me again in another few years.

Asie from the food, the Italian carnival masks are noteworthy. Made of either cheap plastic, paper mache (the most common and popular), or leather (used for theatre, apparently), the carnival masks are each unique pieces of art. Unfortuately, it's kinda like the kilt shops in Scotland, there's just so many of them! Seriously, on certain strips, almost every shop sold masks of some sort or another. And the ranger in price, holy crap. Barring the really cheap, mass produced, plastic ones, the prices went from 20 euro, all the way up past 300 euro for really fancy ones. Surprisingly, some of the most expensive ones were of paper mache, not leather. But of course, the decorations on them were absolutely amazing. Real crystals, hand-painted designs, and glitter coming out the wah-zoo! Really, it was one of those things you just have to own. It reminded me or the Renaissance era, full of balls, costume parties, all completed in regal fashion. To be honest, I think I would fit in better with the era of chivalry and calligraphy, rather than the current era. Maybe one day I'll hold a ball of my own, as formal as they come with tails and dresses fit for royalty. Or, maybe I'll just find some rich dude to work for and end up serving at one! Heh, heh, that sounds more believable.

Alright, that's another posting done. Next time, it's on to Germany, and then Down to my first days in Perth.

Later days,

Neal Oram

Aside from the food