My last morning in Florence. I had booked a train to Venice for 1.30pm that day so had a few hours to wander. I met up with Shiho at her hotel and we went to the food market. Think a huge market with stalls of fresh fruit, vinegar and oils, wine, fresh pasta, butchers and a few eateries. Beautiful! We got caught up at the balsamic vinegar stall especially after the vinegar we had the night before. I tasted an 8 year, 12 year and a 20 year. As the vinegar ages it becomes sweeter and syrupy-by the time it hits 20 it gets close to tasting like a muscat. I settled for either an 8 or 12 year bottle in the end (the bottle is tucked away in my suitcase and it will take too long to unearth it). If I had a bit more time in Florence it would be amazing to cook a meal with the foodstuffs you can purchase at the market (and dont get me started on the porcini mushrooms). We then visited Opificio delle Pietre Dure-a museum of precious stone artwork. Think tables inlaid with quartz, lapis luzi, marble etc to create pictures. Or painting recreated from pieces of stone. They are like puzzles.
Shiho and I timed it well for leaving Florence -her flight was at a comparable time to my train. So we said goodbye and headed our separate ways.
I travelled by highspeed train to Venice so it only took 2 hours. I had to share a four block of seats around a table (ie two going forwards and two going backwards) with a family whose accent was making my skin crawl (I have encountered a lot of accents before but there is only one that makes me cringe-the mysoginist attitudes of the males doesnt help either). I had the teenage son opposite me. Unfortunately the coddled wee chap has yet to understand about sides-ie keep your freaking bag and legs on your side you gumby. And stop kicking my toe. Everytime he did it I would cross my legs or move and wallop him in the ankle (if his feet werent all up in my grill he wouldnt have been in the way). Mummy and daddy dearest were more concerned about feeding the offspring maccas distributed from a paper bag. Joys of transportation. People rave about taking trains as you get to see the countryside. To be honest we spent more time in tunnels and the countryside which I did see was very 'same same'. Theres less leg room, gypsy children who try and get money off you at stations (and take your bags out of your hand when you are in the process of getting onto a train then insist on being paid), loud mouthed passengers, bored children, conductors conducting consistent checks on tickets after every stop (so you have to keep pulling it out), you have to leave your luggage at some free spot and hope its there when you arrive as its a complete free for all. Sometimes planes are easier.
Anyway, arrived in Venice. Chucked my luggage in storage and went for a short walk - mostly to get lunch (porcini risotto and hot choc). I wasnt staying in Venice proper due to the ridiculous prices but had booked at a campsite just out of town on a bus line. Found the bus, had a bit of a mare finding the right stop, manhandled the luggage out of a full rush hour traffic bus and walked for about 1.5km. I had booked a shared room with three people (makes a nice change from 6). When I saw the room it wasnt immediately apparant where the hell the bed was. A bit of investigation showed it folded down over where a table/bench was and the ladder was in a cupboard. The room also stunk like males in their teens, free from mummy's watchful eye for the first time. There was tobacco everywhere and they obviously enjoyed a drink or 20. Dirty laundary spread around. For the first time on this trip I insisted on changing (actually in the end I upgraded and paid extra for my own room). Hostels can be hit and miss sometime and these rooms should only be for two people. It also pisses me off in shared dorms when people spread their mess over every available surface.
On my own the room was quite nice.
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