Venezia

Three days in Italy taught me that 1) my skin loves the Venetian sun, 2) Italian men are beautiful (for the most part), 3) Venice is probably the most romantic city in the Mediterranean, and 4) I apparently “look like fountain.” I’m not sure what the fountain comment is supposed to mean, but Hanna and I created a rating system based on it. This rating system dictates that men can range in attractiveness from faucets (common, everyday fixtures) to oceans (such as Jensen Ackles; largely attractive and one of the best-looking men on Earth), with plenty of gauge points along the way. Only Hanna and I hold the secret to the other points on the scale and we shall not divulge that information.

An example of a Spanish man who "looks like fountain."

On another note, Venice and the surrounding islands were absolutely beautiful. The minute we landed I knew I would love it. Everywhere we went, we had to travel by boat, which was one of the best parts, though we did wake up with that floating feeling this morning. The only downside to being around so much water was the number of mosquitoes that liked to bite. It was also extremely hot and humid in Venezia.

Our first view of the city from the waterbus.

On Monday, Hanna and I took the metro-boat to Murano, which is famous for its hand-blown glass. We went into many galleries and were absolutely floored by the enormous chandeliers hanging from the ceilings in the galleries. They each cost thousands of Euro, and after seeing a small demonstration, we know why. The work that goes into those is intense. At the end of the day, we each bought small earrings, and I bought a ring while Hanna bought a bracelet.

Since we had to leave Tuesday afternoon, Hanna and I set out early enough to catch a boat to the island of Burano, which is known for its hand-made lace and Venetian masks. The lace was beautiful and I was amazed at what they could do with it. I ended up buying my grandparents a small, lace handkerchief with an “R” stitched into it. I also bought a Venetian mask, which is absolutely stunning. Packing that on the plane should be interesting, but I know I’ll get it home.

The colorful island of Burano.

The flight back to Barcelona was a bit sad. I wanted to stay in Venice. Italy could take me and not give me back. Barcelona had my heart, but I’m pretty sure that Venice seized it from the grips of the Catalan city.

I’m at the point, though, where I’m starting to miss almost everything about home. Hanna and I both had a few moments yesterday when we almost cried. Something about passing corn fields on the way to the airport made me miss the South. I also longed for home after Hanna pointed out a bottle of Four Roses Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey in the airport. I don’t drink the stuff, but the fact that it came from Kentucky made me all nostalgic. At other points throughout the weekend, we were reminded of home, too. For instance, we were at a metro-boat stop where the scent of the grill was thick in the air and it made us want to go home and grill. I miss home and I can’t wait to be back next week. :\

The sunset from Lido.