city by the sea

Arrival in Venice is as close to arriving on a distant planet as I think I'll ever get. Its about time I sat down to empty my head from the last few days of being in this water world of a city. Comming from a long train along the foot hills of the Slovenian Alps, to palm trees and ocean air, I stepped off the train station steps into a an ancient space station. Thirty feet from where I dropped my pack was a teal green canal that seperated me and my few belongings from a jade dommed white stone temple. People where waiting and watching the vessels of every kind putter and bob by on the water carrying every kind of cargo off in both directions. There was a new language echoing off the stone walls where eddies of space people dissapeared around hidden walks and stone lace bridges. I had an ear to ear grin for hours wondering around the maze of walks and bridges that run the length of hundereds of kilometeres of water streets. Gondolas, skiffs, water buses, floating garbage bardges, sleek varnished maple-wood water taxis, paddled, rowed, motored, bubbled, whirred, and drifted past as I stood there in utter amazement. Its easy to loose your balance between the disorientation of looking up at all the 1000-year-old carvings on every surface of the built environment while trying to hold tight to a fixed surface on the taxis while the horizon rises and falls. To reach my destination I had to do familiar tasks, buy tickets, check maps, fumble with my camera, but this time all I could to hold on and be amazed. I cant belive people built a city like this. Every building is a monument to the work and creativity of thousands of people over hundreds of years and all you can do is get it in view for 6 or 8 seconds as you slip past into the sun, out of the shade, into pockets of cool sea air, out of invisible containers of bright sunlight reflecting off the blushing pink stucco and tarnished marble.

Venice, Italy home to all things new and old at once. Before I could even drop my bags off I had wondered into a canal-side osteria. Along one wall was a library of wine bottles and behind the marble counter top bar were two men, both pouring prosecco and asking me, "Prego? Prego?" I looked at the trays of little snacks; crostini with baccalao, w/mushrooms, w/ teleggio and sala verde, w/ gorgonzola and chocolate. Then there were casserols of polenta, sardines, anchovies, roasted cipplini, eggplant alla pizziaola.... "I'll take it!" was my reply. I began pointing to one of each. "Uno, uno, uno unounounounouno si si si si!" I was talkin all kinds a shit. As soon as I figured out what was going on, just people stopping in for a snack and a sip of wine to take outside to finish the afternoon, I wasted no time getting into it. I washed it all down with two glasses of Prosecco and saddled my bags on my shoulders, and headed back onto the walk. I made my way upstream through the knots of people enjoying their Shprits (the local favorite afternoon coctail of white wine, Aperol, an orange slice and a green olive) as they leaned and looked on as the boats and people glided past.

As far as food goes...its like the architecture; everything I've eaten is beter than the thing before it. I woke up at 6 this morning because there is a large crowd of Japaneese people staying at this barrax of a hostel and there is particular interest in the bathing and washing rituals of that culture it seams...and I headed out early for a stroll. (Oh yeah as far as the Japaneese go, if you have to make a call to Japan don't bother, there's nobody home, they're all here!) But as I was saying I was on an early morning search and consume mission and was happy to find Venice empty of all tourist activity and I was able to walk freely through all of the busiest places as if they were just for me. I would shoulder down some random walk way, cross a bridge here, under a tunnel there, and hear Italian spoken from somewhere in the distance. Next is the smell of fresh pastry and the voices get louder then, around a corner and the crevice opens to a wide square of irregular geometry, the stone pavement still slick from the morning fog. I love how people just pop in, have their espresso and then two minutes later they're gone. There's a steady flow of people into the cafes all morning I was happy to observe with my €2.50 copy of the International Herald. The day is just punctuated by food.

No good letter home would be complete without a recipe. I had this eggplant snack in one of these Osterias and it was simple and delicious.

(Insert Italian word for Eggplant here) Milanese alla pizziola

1. Good looking black eggplant
2. a little thick home made tomato sause from canned tomatoes
3. fresh mozzerella
4. olive oil
5. salt and pep
6. some great quality cured anchovies (wash the salt off and pat them dry) soak them in some changes of water if they're too salty for ya, then pat them dry.

-Cut the eggplant into 2inch thick rounds and dress them well with the oil, salt and pep.
-Roast them in a 350 oven untill they're soft and starting to brown
-When they're cool hit them with a good dollop of the sauce, a knob of the mozzerella and but back in the oven to melt.
-when cool again put a nice anchoby filet across the top with another few drops of oil, salt and pep.

A few of us from the hostel met up at a cafe near the university last night. We had many Sprits and a great time. I think our little group represented three or four continents. There was such pleasent engergy out there in the Piazza where the crowd spilled from the little cafe into the courtyard. People were playing flamenco on a refrigerator sized portable ?!? speaker system. When that ended there were two students playing the rock n roll on their guirar and accordion. There was a crow gathered around them all cheering and shouting. There could never be a night life like that in the States. There's too much taboo on alcohol and people would just f%%k it up. But that night as with all others people enjoyed each other's company with no need for the police to reach in and sort it out.

I was walking back from my boat last night and I saw an old man fising for cuttle fish under the street lights with a long handeled net and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. I walked up and gave him the ol' "Buona Serra." and he livened up and showed me the three fish he had caught in the bucket all wet and climbing over each other. I learned the squid are comming in from the lagoon to lay their eggs and the squid fishing is good and easy for now. In the summer when these big mamas are gone, the baby squid will show up in all the restaurants. I'm amazed by this place, I mean the life here seems to be really good. Even if you collect the garbage or drive a cab, you still get to drive a boat every day and check out all these amazing buildings and eat all this incredible food.

Its been great hearing back on the email. Thank you and keep it comming.
dave