Venice

Penelope Gilliatt once said that "Prague is like a vertical Venice: steps everywhere," and I think Truman Capote summed it up well when he said, "Venice is like eating an entire box of chocolate liqueurs in one go."

It is tipsyindulgentdeliciousness.

Mike loved the boats. I loved the shopping. And togther we loved each other and experienced the scenery and the nostalgia of eras past. As we explored, we felt the solid cobblestones underfoot and wondered what laid underneath. We enjoyed the romance of the water, admired the architecture, smelled good tobacco, tasted excellent and exotic food, all the while listening to gondoliers slowly paddling, motorboats whizzing by, men singing, and accordions playing.

And I don't even like accordions.

I think Mark Twain put it best in The Innocents Abroad (1869):
I began to feel that the old Venice of song and story had departed forever. But I was too hasty. In a few minutes we swept gracefully out into the Grand Canal, and under the mellow moonlight the Venice of poetry and romance stood revealed. Right from the water's edge rose long lines of stately palaces of marble; gondolas were gliding swiftly hither and thither and disappearing suddenly through unsuspected gates and alleys; ponderous stone bridges threw their shadows athwart the glittering waves. There was life and motion everywhere, and yet everywhere there was a hush, a stealthy sort of stillness, that was suggestive of secret enterprises of bravoes and of lovers; and clad half in moonbeams and half in mysterious shadows, the grim old mansions of the Republic seemed to have an expression about them of having an eye out for just such enterprises as these at that same moment. Music came floating over the waters--Venice was complete.