It was my next-to-last-day in Venice. Laura, Becca, and I did a marathon test walk of both Casanova Walk 6 and 7. We also fit in some shopping, gelato, lunch, shopping, drinks, cicchetti, shopping, gelato, and drinks. Becca became the gelato monster. I ate fish on a boiled egg and drank fragolino that smelled like gasoline. I love my friends–they walked Casanova all over town and even carried home two bottles of fragolino for me.
I can’t afford a trip to Venice this summer and it’s been killing me. I’m spoiled and sullen about it, and then I drink a spritz or some pinot grigio and listen to Pitura Freska–and generally miss Venice that much more.
But today I had a revelation. I am so lucky to have gone there so many times in the past that now my head is stuffed full of memories. I can pull out memories endlessly to entertain myself. In fact, yesterday Karen and I reminisced about our trips together, how Enrico took us out in his motorboat to swim near Giudecca or the night we first met him when Bebo brought him to dinner with us all at Poste Vecchia. Karen and I agreed that the Carnevale night of the Four Gentlemen of Verona is among the best nights in our entire lives.
I will make more memories in the future. Until then, there’s spritz, friends, Summertime, bad Italian pop, photos, and this blog.