The next day we woke up excited for our trip to Venice. The tour service that we signed up with was meeting up with us at 8:00 at the train station. We thought that walking to the train station would be a good idea. Bad idea. 30 minutes later, we reached the train station winded but awake. We met with our tour group and boarded the bus. Now you are probably wondering why we were using the tour bus. For 75 euro we had a deal for a private A/C bus, a private glass blowing demonstration, a boat and gondola ride and a detailed tour of Venice. It was really worth it. The bus ride was quite uneventful, so I decided to sleep. We woke up when the bus stopped and took a local train and a boat through the Grand Canal in Venice to San Marco Plaza. It was amazing. A city with no streets filled with narrow alleys and bustling with people. Cars were non-existent. Everyone owned a boat. How crazy is that? The private taxi we hired had an roof opening so we could all look out and take pictures. Venice, to me, was the Atlantis of all cities. A city covered with water isolated from the rest of mankind, yet booming with culture. After seeing some sites with the group we went to the glassblowing exhibition. The man who demonstrate the skill was more than 50 years old but his body was heaving mass of muscle. I felt that the guy could eat me up in seconds. We then proceeded to the exhibition room where we saw the beauty of the work. There were 10 foot sculptures of glass worth more than 1,000,000 euros ad the cheapest thing I could see were red glass cups with gold leaf for only 70 euros.

Every room was showcased like a gallery and every piece looked like a masterpiece. After we left and got a bite to eat we went mask hunting. If there is anything we learned from the 3 hours of shopping we did was that Venetian markets ran on two things: masks and glass. The masks were so elaborate and fancy. We even saw masks that ran up to 5,000 euro, granted that they did have Swarovski crystals on them. I bought a couple of cheap ones for memorabilia.

After visiting the nearby basilica, and the Duchy we wandered with our tour group through the narrow streets of Venice. There was a lot of walking. This factor, coupled with the cold, made the second half of our day trip pretty nasty. We walked by countless basilicas, bridges, shopping centers and canals. Gucci, Pucci, Prada to name a few. By the end of the trip we were exhausted and hungry and tired. We slept on the bus back until we were an hour away from home. We played a game of “Name that song”, which turned into an all out A cappella Justin Timberlake marathon. We had no idea what we were going to eat. I walked out of the bus and in front of me, there were two golden arches, like a sign from God. Mcdonalds in Italy! Nothing like two Big Macs and a 4-piece nugget to satisfy the soul. We all ravenously attacked our food and we were done in about fifteen minutes. By the way, McDonalds in Italy is way better than it’s American counterpart – way less grease, fresher meat and greens and cheese, and overall goodness. We took a couple of cabs home and called it a day.

On Thursday night, we slept in anticipation of our trip to Pisa. Excited as we were we slept quite late and woke up quite groggy.

Friday morning, I remember walking to breakfast and specifically being tired of nutella and croissants. For those who don’t know what nutella is, it is basically a chocolate and hazelnut spread and it is really good. I guess the breakfast from the days before made me loathe it so I opted for the healthier alternative, yogurt, peaches and cereal. After running some errands I headed to class. After taking role call, Professor Fasoli started discussing one of the fathers of intellectual writing before the Renaissance. The night before we had been assigned to read the entire “Decameron.” Although the magnitude of the assignment flabbergasted me, when I started to read I quickly got into the reading. Boccacio is basically talking about a troupe of ten people – 7 women and 3 men – who are living in Florence during the Plague. They decide to escape together to the countryside in Feisole and began telling each other stories and it compiles into this anthology of over one hundred stories. What was crazy about Boccacio’s writing was that he wrote every story from the perspective of the teller. Bocaccio wrote as if he had multiple personalities and it amazed me how he stayed true to each character. What was important about the Decameron was that it was the model of the classic Italian novella collection – a model that would be followed for at least the next 400 years. It was one of the first books that were highly acclaimed and written fully in the Italian vernacular. Professor ended class giving us the assignment and ended class early. Right after class, we headed to the train station to catch the first train to Pisa.

We passed by large farmlands and marshes, and went through marshes and tunnels. This train ride was nothing like the MTA subway.The train ride was simple and uneventful until the conductor came to our car to check our tickets. He asked us where the stamp was on our tickets and we had no idea what to say. Apparently, in Italy, the tickets must be clocked in and stamped before entrance to the train. The fine was 40 euro a ticket, and since there were eight of us the fine would have been 320 euro. Quickly, I struck up a bargain with the ticket checker and he settled on me bribing him with ten euro. I felt like I was a gangster for the rest of the trip and the friends who came with me decided to pay for my dinner to make up for my badassery. When we reached Pisa we quickly realized how different this part of Italy was compared to Florence.

Florence was a small city that was beautiful and full of architecture and history. Pisa was a very small town whose economy was totally built on the income made from tourist visits to the leaning tower and its adjacent basilica. Streets were winding and harder to navigate, and things like stop signs, crosswalks and traffic lights did not exist. We all hopped into a cab and I said “Leaning Tower”. The cad driver instantly nodded his head and zoomed away, as if this was such a routine request that he need not ask anymore.

Me and Miz

When we exited the car and walked across the corner, we saw the tower in all its glory. The first thought that hit me was, “OMG! Im in Pisa!!” This was a dream that was realized usually only through picture books. The second thought was that the tower was awfully small. I mean it wasn’t nearly as tall as I expected. If I had to compare it to something, I would say that it is as tall as the bell tower on the library in Brooklyn College. I know – what a letdown. Beside that fact, however, it was very beautiful. The architecture was very elegant. Its unfortunate that this accessory to the nearby basilica acclaimed more fame than its counterpart because of a faulty foundation. What I immediately found amusing was the way in which tourists took photos in front of the tower. That was what the tower was – a huge Kodak moment. Pictures leaning on the tower, pictures pushing the tower, pictures hugging the tower, pictures squeezing the tower between two fingers and last but not least, pictures pretending the leaning tower was a phallic organ. The ticket to climb it was overpriced, but some of my friends decided to do it. The climb was exhausting and when they got to the top they did not see much. They loathed the climb back down, especially since it was dark and every step was an uneven length and it was made in a winding fashion, so that the descent felt infinite and annoying. We visited the basilica, which was simply adorned compared to other basilicas. Since there wasn’t much else to do there we decided to leave and took the taxi back to the train station. All in all, Pisa was worth the 10 euro to visit it, but not much more. The train ride back was short and sweet, and nothing as suspenseful as the ride to Pisa happened.

When we finally reached the train station, we noticed a large sign that said McDonald’s. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. It still said McDonald’s. The feeling that then welled up in my heart and then subsequently in my stomach was that of pure delight. I don’t think many will understand this feeling, but the taste of pasta and pizza was just not cutting it for me now. I needed some American styled goodness. We rushed into the tore hungry and daze and ordered the first thing that came to our eyes. I got the McRoyal Deluxe Meal. Large drink, large fries and a quarter pound of meat with cheese between two sesame buns. I tore through that burger like a kid on Christmas and I was finished fully satisfied. I had gotten my American fix. And believe me, it tasted much healthier and much tastier than McDonald‘s in America. We got home, tired but satisfied.  We decided to go to sleep early because the next day, we were planning to go to Venice.

Look at me!