Venice. One of the most world renowned cities in the world. It ranks high on the list, along with Paris, London, and Rome. It is a city of romance, of long cobbled alleyways begging to get lost in, and delectable dishes. I hate to admit it, but I didn’t fancy Venice much on this trip. But oddly enough, after leaving, I had the most intense desire to return more than any other city I have visited. It beckons me back, whispering of unseen facades, local goods, and a whimsical nature that tourism seems to bog down.


We had a few days in Venice, a fraction of the time needed to properly explore the hidden depths of such a city. We toured the Doge’s Palace, Saint Mark’s Basilica, and Scuola Grande di San Rocco. We admired the Rialto Bridge and the Bridge of Sighs, and spent hours sipping wine and licking gelato in Piazza San Marco. We indulged ourselves by taking a gondola ride through the countless canals and spent an afternoon admiring glass blowing in Murano. And of course, we ditched the maps and wandered around aimlessly for hours just to feel that palpable excitement of getting lost in a foreign city.


Nostalgia. I think that is how I would describe the bundle of memories associated with Venice. A nostalgia for the care free afternoons basking in the sun with a spritz in hand, and nostalgia for the parts of Venice that I have yet to explore, the parts still shrouded in mystery, tangled up in spaghetti, with the aroma of fresh bolognese. Nostalgia for what it means to be Venetian, languid days of slow meals and long conversations. The art of slow living, the epitome of Venetian lifestyle.

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