Al Pal and I finally went on our honeymoon to Italy. What follows are actual notes taken on the trip, in actual note form. Enjoy!
Monday, May 10th – In Venice
Venice happened today!
Our hotel is kind of the pits. Al Pal’s little twin bed, which is pushed next to my little twin bed that together make up our normal sized bed (Europe!), is No Good. Every time he moves there’s a sound like the creaking open of the gates of hell, which keeps us up all night– not in a positive way. So can they try to fix it or can we maybe move rooms, please? “All our beds are the same.” Oh, so you are terrible, okay, cool. WE WILL MURDER YOU (with words, on Trip Advisor).
Spritzes in the Jewish ghetto. Not good spritzes, either! Note to self – Aperol is the delicious one and Campari is the pickley one. The Jewish ghetto is small and sad and made us feel small and sad. But full of awesome Jewish shops with cool stuff in them. Bought some!
There are also a bunch of frum people here, which was sort of unexpected and I reacted in my usual way which was to panic and order treif.
Walked to St. Mark’s. It’s so COLORFUL. Some super old dude was like, “Let’s make this one wacky! But not too wacky.”
People are on the street all over the place playing music, singing opera, and having a GARAGE SALE. When you’re Italian, even your garage sales are fancy and mysterious. Science fact.
Two spritzes for me, one half liter red wine for Al Pal (this is our new trend) at lunch at some weirdly Americanized place that served hamburgers. Poor choice, Vonderpiro!
More walking. There are so many masks. Can’t imagine what it looks like around here when people are actually wearing them.
Two spritzes, one half liter red wine at happy hour. Boozy! Looked at more art.
Dinner in a little square: two spritzes, one half liter red wine. We now just say, “The usual, please!” to waiters we’ve never seen at restaurants we’ve never been to.
TO THE VENICE JAZZ CLUB! Skinny Italian dudes in hats playing piano and making jokes about Miles Davis is pretty much the cutest. Al Pal has decided he loves jazz now. None of them terrible jazz hats for you, Al Pal, or we will have yells.
Then xylophone guy gets a solo and we are just beside ourselves.
Three spritzes, three house red, one grappa each. And now we’re wasted. We stagger home and that is the end of today. Vonderpiro out (cold).
Level of booziness: Like, really a lot.
Al Pal: Strachiatella, Tiramisu
Dena: Hazlenut, caramel