sand(bags) and sun

After an hour of roaming the canal walkways of Venice, we sat in Piazza San Marco to watch a classic European spectacle: a gypsy harassing everyone in sight. This particular breed of gypsy was wielding a kind of latex sack filled with sand that can be molded into different shapes. They take pride in their ability to mold these sand bags into various body parts. Gypsy vendors such as this one are all over Italy, which is something I’ve never seen in the U.S.A. Tonight’s victims didn’t speak English, but then again, gypsies don’t seem to speak a language anyone here can understand anyway. The ensuing conversation was pretty entertaining; I don’t know what these people said to the gypsy, but it was loud and the point was clear: "go away gypsy, we don't want your trinkets!" The poor gypsy didn’t miss a beat as he tailed a new target, sand sack in hand. As he passed, a few of us sat and took in the night, while a very un-American instrument echoed down the alley to our left. We had to check it out. The dark alley had us all questioning the comforting words of our tour guide: “there’s no crime in Venice.” Opportunity? I thought so. I was first around the corner and, after Jesse passed, Anna was next. I jumped out and yelled “givaa mee EUROS!” I laughed; she screamed loudly; and most of the diners (all locals I might add) were staring at us as we found them being serenaded by a man who was, in fact, playing a piano accordion.

“Nice restaurant, we should check it out tomorrow.” To our dismay, we never did find it again; it was one of those local gems we weren’t meant to stumble upon in the first place. Fortunately, our search ultimately led us to Ristorante Gianni; a restaurant that was excellent, but surprising. Why would I be surprised that the food would be so good at an authentic Italian restaurant? Well, I wasn’t. The surprise was more in favor of the good ole’ U.S. of A. While the food was outstanding at Gianni’s, I realized that everything I ate, I had eaten in America…and it was just as good there. Linguini and clams? Papa’s specialty, served up only in Savannah, Georgia. Mussel soup? My favorite appetizer at Ristorante Arnella in Chicago.

One aspect of Gianni’s, however, could not be matched in America: the atmosphere. Our table was at the very end of a covered pier on the Grand Canal. Buildings that are several times older than America lined both shores. Aromas of food and the sea filled the air. The scene was serene. Even the pigeons seemed to have taken the night off. Our only disturbance came from a rose peddling gypsy...I gave in. We certainly weren’t the only tourists enjoying the scene; our fellow diners to the left spoke French (and actually ordered French fries…), while an older couple chattered with English accents directly in front of us. But our three parties kept to ourselves, enjoying our company and the sounds of the boats. Regardless of your nationality, Venice is a very humbling place if you can appreciate the history. I wonder if they felt as small as I did…