Part Four: Arrive in Venice

This is part four of my travel diary revisited. Next stop: Italy!

Saturday, May 31 – This morning I bid farewell to England and embark on the next leg of my journey. Another ride on the Hoppa Bus shuttles me back to Heathrow. Apparently, this airport has a shortage of gates. Consequently none of the flights have one pre-assigned to them: no reserved parking spots. It’s sort of a “first-come, first-served” arrangement. This leaves the flying public waiting in a central holding area, staring at overhead screens until their flights are finally given gates (roughly 30 minutes before departure, or in the case of my flight, even less). Imagine my surprise when I at last go to my gate to find, not a plane, but a bus waiting. The bus takes us on a fascinating, round-about tour of Heathrow’s underbelly on the way to our plane, which is parked out on the tarmac with no gate to call its home. No modern Jetway ramp for us. We get to climb the old-fashioned roll-away stairs: another new experience.

The flight itself takes only two hours. I once again have a window seat, which gives me a bird’s-eye view of the lagoon and the city of Venice itself on our approach. After my solo adventures, it's wonderful to find my husband waiting for me when I arrive. He carries my bags and drives me the short distance to our hotel, showing me to our room before returning to work. The plan is that I will settle in, have a nap (I am still operating in a seriously sleep-deprived state), and then we (Ron, his coworkers, and I) will all head in to Venice for dinner. Since I will be exploring on my own much of the time while I’m here, Ron and his friends – who have had a 3-day head start – are going to show me how to get around. After some rest and a change of clothes, I am introduced to Kim, Dorothy, Wendy, George, Jason and Jim. We catch the bus for the 30-minute ride from the mainland to the islands of the old city via the causeway. Once there, we board the practical, all-purpose water bus, called the vaporetto.

I’m sure I will always remember my first ride down the Grand Canal. It's truly magical. The temperature is perfect. The beautiful architecture, utterly unique. And the unusual quality of the late afternoon light robes everything in a warm, incandescent glow. No matter where I look, there’s a scene worth preserving. I drink it all in. After the stress and rushing around of the last few days, it feels fabulous to be at my final destination with plenty of time to enjoy it. We stroll through the famous Piazza San Marco area by twilight and cap off the night with a two-hour dinner at an open-air café. Life is good.