So here I was, my last day. My flight was at 4.30pm, which I’d planned accordingly so I could make the most of the morning.
I had read about one of the little narrow lanes called Calle dei Assassini (Alley of the Assassins) which was named as such because back in the day, that was the alley where dead bodies were always found. Local assassins always dumped the bodies there, and soon enough, the local government actually banned long beards, because that’s what the assassins always had. Creepy!
Apparently this alley was ideal for robberies and murders because it’s the one that wealthy men took when they didn’t want to be seen heading to the nearby brothels.
So, I had decided that my route to the airport was going to be entirely via the Grand Canal this time around. I figured it would be the perfect commute, and it was, in fact, the most AWESOME way to end my holiday. I didn’t have a gondola ride at any point (errrrrr 80 euros? NO THANKS MATE) but you don’t need to, when, for 8 euros, you can ride the entire length of the canal. It took about 45 minutes (and no, I didn’t get travel-sick LOLS) and it was just…yeah….so nice. Here are some snaps from my little joyride:
And then I came across this bad boy. I had to Google what this actually was, because my guidebook didn’t mention it. And THAT’S because it is a temporary sculpture, created by Lorenzo Quinn, and it exists to draw attention to the effects of climate change. The hands are ‘holding up’ the buildings of Venice, because it’s sinking innit. I thought this was super-cool.
I passed the train station, the university, and some really odd futuristic bridge which kinda reminded me of our Millennium Bridge (I didn’t like it…KEEP IT OLD SKOOL, VENICE!)
I disembarked at Piazzale Roma, got the old airport bus to Marco Polo, and had pizza and wine at the airport whilst reflecting on my trip. I always get reflective at the end.
It had been a shit few months. Preceded by an even shitter few years. No-one ever plans for awful stuff to happen to them, but sometimes it does…and when it does, it makes you even more desperate for the good stuff. So when you finally get the opportunity to get this good stuff in your life, you HAVE to grab it. Don’t fuck about. For me, ‘the good stuff’ means making my life an adventure where I’m constantly learning and overcoming my anxiety so that it doesn’t stop me LIVING. Travelling alone makes me feel…strong…powerful…brave, even. Basically, yeah, every time I do this it makes me feel alive. I said it. Jesus, it’s like I’m in one of those cheesy Hallmark films I love so much. I’m such a wanker.
But basically what I’m saying is that I’m grateful for any chance that I get to do this stuff, and I am planning my next adventure as we speak. Slovenia, you’re next!