This is why I get nervous around travel.

Our Airbnb host offered to book us a taxi to the airport. I asked for an 8:15 pickup. They booked it and sent me the text number of the driver. By 7:45, I knew we would be ready to go earlier, so I texted him to come at 8:00. No response. But, we went downstairs at 8:00 anyway to wait, grateful i’s just mildly misty and cold but not raining. 8:20, still no car. So we decide to walk to the front of the market where we might see a taxi. I’m already losing my internal cool because I am just not cool. I ask a woman on the street where is the taxi stand and she goes on and on in Spanish how to take the tram to the bus and then take the bus. No. Finally she says there are taxis in front of the church, in the other direction. Time’s flying in my mind. So we walk towards the church and see a man walking a big fluffy dog. I ask him about taxis. By the way, my Spanish sucks. Finally he tells me to google a taxi and I give him my phone (I am, indeed feeling panic invade) and he calls one for us to meet in front of the market. The sweetheart man walked us back to the market and helped us find the taxi. I said Gracias and muchas gracias about a hundred times. So we get into the cab and make it to the airport which turns out to be a breeze–easy check in short line at security and we even had enough time for a coffee before the flight. End of story. Phew…

I had a window seat on the plane. Ken says it seemed like a toy plane. Venice from the air chokes me up. It looks like a child’s model city, a play thing with all of the identifiable structures right there in their muted colors. I am finally exhaling.

We take the Alilaguna and Elisa is right there waiting for us with big smiles and bigger hugs. Up at the apartment our table is set and covered with food she has prepared for us. She stayed and visited for a while; I went upstairs to pay our bill (like everything, she has raised her prices a bit) and came back down and we had a lovely lunch facing our favorite view:

It is so interesting to me how a person can really “love” a place. My affection for Venice is real. And I know I am not alone in that.

After lunch, we unpack and get settled. We take a nice walk to see the changes in the neighborhood. The wonderful Gesuiti church is undergoing restoration and is covered with scaffolding and some kind of cloth. The kids are still out there playing soccer in the campo though. We go over our first bridge and I cannot resist a photo of this “nothing special” canal:

There are some new restaurants and some old shops gone. Strada Nova is busy and noisy with celebrating young people. Graduations and wedding parties it seems. We circle back through the back streets to the Coop supermarket to get some basic supplies. I stop at the surly guys’ fruit stand for his beautiful oranges and he is nice and friendly, but charges way too much. I get some cheese and salami (for Ken) at the place across the way and the guy tells me he’s been there for 30 years! We’ve had similar discussions many times, but I’m not sure he remembers me.

Back in the apartment, we do some laundry and finish unpacking and organizing. We ate more of Elisa’s food for dinner.

We watched the unsatisfying finale of Hijack and went to sleep. So happy just to be here!