Like I said, that Sunday morning, the alarm rang at 5 am. I cursed my life and my ancestors all the way to the monkey. It was freezing cold outside and the only warm and fuzzy thought in my brain was how I would so peacefully sleep on the ferry.
But…The boat was taken by various guides who decided to talk about Venice in various languages for three hours. And loud. In microphones. My anxiety kicked in from all that loud talking, I felt like screaming the entire time.
Boyfriend noticed my mood deteriorating minute by minute and the first second he got reception, he booked a hotel room in Venice for me to have a nap and not complain the whole day. It was a very expensive, one star shitty hotel near Piazza San Marco, the only one available on booking.com that wouldn’t get us out of pocket.
It took us half an hour to get there from the port and I hated every single bridge. I promised myself that next time I go to Venice I take no luggage with me. I will just buy there everything I need from a cheap shop like H&M and then leave everything behind. Carrying a bag in Venice is painful. On the bright side, the streets look pretty everywhere and this was the only thing keeping my chakras aligned and my mood on the positive part of the spectrum.
On top of everything, my nap was not successful. Our room was overlooking a canal and the gondoliers were shouting and singing and I just couldn’t understand their happiness. At least my anxiety lowered and all together, taking a break and having a lie in for an hour made a difference.
Finally, at 2 pm I was ready to face the world and take in more of Venice. We went out for lunch and drinks and we had a good time walking around, listening to the live music in Piazza San Marco and watching the Regata Storica di Venezia on the Grand Canal.
The sun was warm and as the day passed, its light, almost orange, was falling in heavy veils over the old, decrepit buildings. I felt like walking in a painting and dreamt of living in a palazzo one day, spending my days eating pasta at the restaurants on the narrow back streets, sipping Bellini by the Grand Canal and in the evening, dressing up for the opera. It is a lifestyle that would suit me best, just doing nothing and then rest.
The truth is, considering the excessive number of hours I spend napping and lounging, I think I might have been unconsciously training to live in Italy my entire life. Because if there is anything I excel at in this world, then it is definitely the dolce far niente.