Goodbye Venice

March 23, 2009
Time: 9:10am
Location: Train to Bologna

All Venice weeps of our departure, anonymous save for a lonely blue and white striped towel left behind. Truly, not a single person learned our names, but we will be remembered in the photographs of Japanese tourists, in the lone electric candle I installed at San Nicolo da Tolentino chapel without leaving a donation, and by the no. 6 and 6/ buses, which bore our weight to and from the island six times for the price of three.

The hostel where we stayed was under construction, so when we arrived Saturday evening to find the front edifice closed, the sign in disrepair and hidden behind a dusty scaffold, I feared for a moment that the hostel had simply shut down without letting anyone know. I had been ready to damn the hostelsclub website to hell, but now I sport a free t-shirt with its insignia, clearly a traveler with faith in his booking agency.

I have to award Brent the credit for his perseverence in seeking a side entrance. Lo and behold a small door caged in iron bars lay just around the corner. We rang the bell and were soon let in by a bespectacled Italian man, who was most likely thirty but possible older and just well-aged given the mildness of his present occupation.

Our room was decent with two regular beds and two bunked, a private bathroom, a television, and a remote controlled AC unit, which despite its positive outlook turne dout far too complicated to use. As for the television, Brent unplugged it promptly in favor of charging his laptop. Later we learned it had only five channels, none of which broadcasted porn unfortunately.

We began the evening by using the internet to book hostels and a cheap gondola tour, as well as offend Chelsea, who signed off Skype in anger while we struggled to remain online. After getting everything squared away (including Chelsea's feelings), we walked to the wrong bus stop, then the correct one, where we bought tickets from the bus driver, who could not have looked angrier about performing one of his more peripheral and seldom called for duties. Let's just say we never tried to buy tickets from a bus driver again.