My occasional series draws from old journal entries when I was in Venice. This one continues from my 1996 trip (see the last few Random Journal Entries for others from that same trip). I’m leaving my misspellings and errors in place for comic relief.
I made my requisite post office stop and then went back the way I had come so I could go to Burano from the Fuondamente Nuove stop. The houses on Burano were amazing—brightest colors of blue, purple, aqua, green, yellow, brick, you-name-it, as long as it’s bright. It’s a snug-feeling town, with its boats parked all along its little canals and all the small bridges. They must sweep every hour. The main drag is all lace shops instead of glass shops. I also found the House of the Overzealous Painter who has decorated his doors and house front with many-colored diamonds, squares, and triangles. For lunch I unfortunately and inadvertently ordered a tuna salad.
On the boat back, a silly old man smelling of one too many lunchtime grappas sat next to me and signaled his two lady friends to join him. They kept peeking at me, and the shorter lady sang snatches of songs. Finally, the taller woman spoke and asked if I was Venetian. Great compliment! She said they had been admiring my shoes, and she asked something I didn’t quite understand about “What is my secret to my a) hanging earrings? or b) clothes? or c) who knows?” I smiled and laughed. The two women were Venetian sisters, the taller one now an inhabitant of Palm Springs and widow to a Polish composer. Her daughter is publishing a young adult book called, I think, The Secret of the Matador, that she hopes I can push in our public schools.
I walked with them back to SS Apostoli and parted after taking their picture. I think they were all tipsy. The little old man kept taking my arm or pinching my cheek or whispering in my ear. I smiled and moved away or laughed.