Venetian reflections ...





Day one: Venezia -- sunshine and gelato

Ca San Trovaso in Dorsoduro -- our room ground level behind green door

In mid-May I met my brother Kelly and sister-in-law Wendy for three days in Europe, catching up with them after they had spent a week on a business trip in Germany. The German firm Lowa will be holding its meeting in the U.S. next year, and this was Kelly and Wendy's last planned European trip for awhile. It has been very fortunate for me to have met up with them three times since my arrival in Cardiff: year one in Ireland, year two here in Wales and this recent jaunt to Venice, the Alps, and Munich.

I had not been beyond Paris and most likely wouldn't have ventured to these places on my own: it was a wonderful trip, full of sunshine, warmth and pleasant surprises.

I arrived in Venice on the bus shuttle from Treviso Airport at 10:30 on the morning of May 13 after catching an early Ryanair flight from London's Stansted Airport. It was my first time on the economy airline and the experience checking in was stressful and agonizingly slow. The flight itself was fine -- though they were trying to sell something every five minutes -- but it will be awhile before I venture with Ryanair again. Fortunately sunny Italy and reuniting with family erased the rough start to the day. 

The bus terminal in Venice, at the Piazzale Roma, was smaller and less tourist-friendly than I had anticipated. The hoped-for signs in English were not there (my Italian is non-existent except for Latin studies in high school) and immediately I was confronted with the frenetic confusion that is Venice. I was to catch a specific vaporetto, or water bus, to Zattere to meet up with Kelly and Wendy at our hotel.  Even after being assured of the stop by a patient woman in an unusually hidden and unusually useless transportation office (no maps), it took some investigating to realize where and how I was supposed to board the vaporetto. Finally, with a deep breath, I was able to text Kelly and let them know of my imminent arrival.

Venice is not as large as one would suspect, and despite, and because of, the need to travel by water, travel times are not long. Some vaporetti stop at every station, some are more direct -- my trip to Zattere on the south only took about 15 minutes. Just standing on the boat among the tourists and locals, with the sun shining and the breeze fresh off the water made the frustration of the morning's travels fade away. As we approached my stop I saw a woman on land folding a map against her husband's backpack and realized it was Kelly and Wendy arrived to meet my boat. It was good to see them. They had met me because they had had trouble finding our hotel the night before and thought I might need a guide.

As it turned out, my brother Kelly had an excellent sense of where he was in Venice at most times and Wendy and I gave up all concerns to lithely follow where he lead.

Wendy and Kelly on the dock in front of Ca San Trovaso

Canadian/American feeling the Venetian vibe

San Barnaba Church with the white pillars -- a landmark for us

Basilica di Santa Maria della Salute

The Grand Canal

Crossing the Grand Canal with view of the Salute

The Chiesa di San Giorgio Maggiore

                                                                                                                               Photo: Kelly O'Brien

Fellow passenger on the vaporetto



Palazzo Ducale, or Doge's Palace

Venice ... what to say about Venezia? You can get a good sense of it in a day, but you could also spend your whole life there and never know it all. I think of it as being a little schizophrenic -- it is light and dark, calm and frenetic, religious and hedonistic, very ancient yet very 'now', crumbling and reaching for the heavens simultaneously. There is a sense of 'anything goes' and madness.

I think of it now as an elaborate 10-tiered wedding cake. You gaze at it and marvel at its beauty and that it stands. You may taste a delicately wrought rosette, but it is only a surface sweetness with unknown depths of rum and fruitiness hidden in the structure beneath. Above all, it is a symbol of all that life can hold and promise.

Memorial to Victor Emmanuel II

Tourists at Piazza San Marco

The clock-tower at Piazza San Marco



Workers atop the Basilica di San Marco

The Rialto Bridge across the Grand Canal

The Grand Canal

A boat selling produce

Kelly and Wendy in front of the Chiesa di San Rocco

A home, or hotel, at the far eastern end of the Castello sestieri, or neighbourhood

The Hilton Molino-Stucky as seen from the Dorsoduro sestieri

sweet six(tee)

Photo: Diane Urbanski O'Brien

Beautiful birthday cake made by my sister-in-law Diane

I turned 60 years of age at the end of April and it feels amazing. Somehow, it feels like a proper coming-of-age. And it comes with benefits. Not only am I now eligible for discounts (or 'concessions' as they call them here) on everything from cinema tickets to theatre productions, I can also -- drumroll, please -- ride the buses for FREE.

Not only can I hop on a city bus for nothing, I can hop on any government-sponsored local buses between towns and counties -- at any time, with no restrictions. Some people have travelled all around Wales. Mind you, this would take awhile, as most of these buses are not direct nor high-speed, but most of them travel through beautiful Welsh countryside, so what's the hurry on a day or two off.

My birthday fell on a Sunday and city offices weren't open, but on the Monday I was in first thing. The woman took my picture, took my proof of age and residency, and issued me my card. As the offices were conveniently located across from the main bus terminal I went straight to the bus heading for Porthcawl. Whereas a day pass for Porthcawl and area costs £5.50, I paid nothing. This is a rather glorious feeling. I intend to repeat it often.

I've done much of my international and continental travel already this year (posts on my recent trip to Italy and Germany to come!) and for the summer plan day trips galore through the lovely, Welsh country and seaside.

The Welsh government has had this plan in place for a little more than 10 years now and is committed to it through 2014; it is very popular, as you can imagine, so I can't see them getting rid of it, or at any rate, I hope they keep it, despite its probably substantial cost. The pass is not good for travel in England or Scotland, only within Wales, but can be used for some trips to England, as long as they begin or end in Wales (I'm thinking this will come in handy for visits to Bristol!).

Scotland, England and N. Ireland have similar programs, with that of England coming with more restrictions and cutbacks: for example, in England the pass is only good during non-peak hours (though this apparently only means no early morning rides) and the age is gradually being raised to 65.

Well done, Wales! Well done, UK!

shape-shifting schiphol

     Photo: jpmm

I am what may be called a middling traveller. I have travelled further than some people and not nearly far nor often enough as many to be considered seasoned. For me, airports have generally ranked pretty low in the popularity poll, down there with malls and large megastores where I feel as if humanity has been sucked out with the air.

And then I landed at Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport and fell in love. And then I landed there again and fell in love all over again. And now, I would gladly spend five hours there on a layover than travel to another closer airport on a mind-numbing bus ride.

In 2013 it has been named the best European airport for the second year running, and moved up a place to number three of the top five airports in the world, the only airports topping it to be found in Asia, where I have never travelled. What makes it special? Well, it doesn't feel like an airport -- it feels like a visit to a spa or your own personal hotel. Wherever one walks the building opens up and shifts and changes to reveal little pockets of repose and sanity, wonderful, endless imagination and splendid design.

The spaces all seem set up to make a person relax, in whatever way they would like. On an upper level are rows of overstuffed chairs available to sleep in, cushy lounges with faux fireplaces, uniformed massage therapists ready to knead knots out of muscles. Need a shower? They are available for a small fee. Need to pray? There is a non-denominational meditation center with prayer rugs and other amenities available. Want to gamble? There is a casino discreetly tucked away on one side. Are the kids ready to rumble? There is a kids' forest playroom and a mother's quiet area. There are computers available for easy hire and a free library. There is a branch of the famous, newly reopened Rijks Museum with free, changing exhibits of the Dutch Masters.

Hungry? The dining areas ease around each other, with healthy and desirable choices laid out at good prices. The Dutch Kitchen, my favourite with its Delft pottery scheme, offers individually made omelettes among choices of sandwiches that include fresh salmon on rustic bread. Even the McDonalds (of which I've seen two) are inviting, quiet places.

                     Photo: mooste

Photo: tennanval           

The library

Photo: a.currell

'Delft' tables at the Dutch Kitchen



Photo: kannenberg

Branch of the Rijks Museum

Photo: a.currell

Rembrandt's The Night Watch -- watch shoppers caught by surprise
as this painting re-enacted for the reopening of the Rijk's Museum



Photo: mooste

At the arrivals gate -- where I haven't personally been

If you find yourself at the airport for a long stayover you can make the twenty-minute trip by train into Amsterdam. You can do it on your own or hook up for tours that will take you on city excursions and return you to the airport. I haven't even made it to Amsterdam yet. I'm pleasantly stuck at Schiphol, always finding something new -- seeing a painting I've never seen before, finding out that Rembrandt was really a rebel and realizing I know nothing about him.

If I find Schiphol fascinating, I'm guessing I will like Amsterdam as much and more. My brother and sister-in-law will be there for a day visit in May to kick off their European business/holiday. I will make it there, hopefully, some time this year as a weekender. You'll just have to kick me out of the airport.

Rugby proud!

I can't head off for two weeks holiday without posting about the triumphant win of the Welsh national rugby team over England on Saturday. In a pounding game filled with edge-of-your-seat hysteria and nail-biting intensity, Wales rolled on and on and over England to defend their Six Nations title, leaving England stupefied at the low end of a 30-3 result.

I wasn't able to attend the game. I did work part of the day at the hotel where the party atmosphere was more subdued than other games, and I was able to walk around the city centre and by the stadium before kickoff and before heading home to catch the game live on television. So, I soaked it all up, but I didn't have my camera with me. So, here are a few good shots from the people at The Telegraph.:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/rugbyunion/picturegalleries/9935117/Wales-win-Six-Nations-in-pictures.html#?frame=2511674

travels and toilets

It's the second week in March and a further winter chill has descended for a few days. This has been the coldest, longest winter here since I arrived. The hardy daffodils, crocuses and primroses have been out for weeks but without the sun -- though no rain, a minor miracle. I fear the flowering trees, which are just beginning to blossom, will be cut short by the frost over the next week. I also fear my heating bill will make the energy firms happy.

I've been busy with my computer time during the last couple of months planning trips for the spring. Next week, on the 20th, I head home to Canada for a two-week break -- or more exacting, one week in Canada at my brother Kevin's home and then one week down to Florida for a stay at my stepmom's with my other brother Kelly and his wife. One week in hockey arenas with my niece and nephew and then a week, hopefully, in glorious sunshine and heat!

Then, in mid-May I am meeting Kelly and Wendy again while they are in Germany on a business trip. I am excited about this European excursion. I will be flying into Venice from London Stansted via Ryanair (a first) and spending one day with Kelly and Wendy in Venice. We will be staying overnight in Venice itself in Dorsoduro before driving the scenic route to Munich. Overnight in Munich, then a day seeing the sights and sampling the beergardens in that city before we go our separate ways -- Kelly and Wendy on to see friends in Germany and attend a Pink concert in Mannheim, and myself onto a Munich sleeper train (first time!) to arrive in Paris for a few hours (!) before catching the Eurostar back to London and the Megabus back to Cardiff. I'm heady with anticipation.

I just need to get through a long, seven-day stretch at work before I'm Canada-bound. Unfortunately there is the last of the Six Nations rugby matches next Saturday. I say 'unfortunately' only because I now work all the rugby games as a house porter, meaning I'm on public areas (read: toilets) duty for the day, which is not a fun job. I used to look forward to the International rugby matches because thousands upon thousands of people descend upon the city centre and the buzz is electric. Trying to maintain cleanliness in the hotel lobby when hundreds of people in varying degrees of sobriety descend upon no more than twenty toilet stalls, however, is a sure way to break the celebratory mood.

That being said, this final game between England and Wales will be the decider for the Six Nations title. England and Wales are tied in points but England has the advantage. They only need win to take the title. Wales, defending champions, need to win by eight points. The game is here and the momentum seems to be on Wales' side as they beat Scotland away last weekend and England almost blew it with a near-escape against Italy.

I think Wales is going to take it!

Six Nations fever

This BBC Wales promo heralding the start of Six Nations rugby is a delight:

http://youtu.be/i5YMfs5477o

I've become a rugby fan since moving to Wales -- such a fantastic game! When Wales plays at home here in Cardiff at Millennium Stadium the whole of the city centre is jammed with fans, which include a lot of families and women as well. (We women know a good rugby player when we see one!) The games are not blocked on television, so the pubs are filled with people watching as well.

Unfortunately, Wales, the defending Six Nations champions of 2012, lost their first game to Ireland on Saturday in a typically hard-fought, well-played match. Never give up!