The Inspiration of Venice

Venice – what a gem! It blew my mind. Of course I had seen pictures of Venice, but to be there,
a completely different story! It is sinking, it is crowded, it is confusing – and it is magical. Any
city with no cars and strong commitment to boats immediately has my heart.

My ace travel agent, Jonathan, from Purple Light Vacations, once again delivered – an
affordable hotel in the thick of it, breakfast included. The only challenge was finding it. As I
wandered the alleys trying to figure out what direction I was heading, I kept wondering What
did people do before google maps? Even with my GPS, it took serious effort to negotiate the
narrow walkways, bridges and steps. I had the added adventure of dragging around the big
suitcase, not the carry-on, but the motherload, so this was no easy sledding.

Luckily, I found my hotel tucked along a narrow, winding walkway; its front window still strung
with twinkling holiday lights offered a warm welcome. It was a quaint little place, with a
cheerful front desk attendant who methodically reviewed the hotel details: breakfast from 7 to
10 a.m., tea served from 4 to 6 p.m., and always leave the key, which was adorned with an
oversized turquoise tassel, at the desk. It was a perfect fit.

My room was cozy and great. The walls were decorated with a funky fern patterned wallpaper,
a dark, British style floral rug covered the uneven floors, and a window adorned with heavy
green drapes looked out over tiled roof tops. Hello Venice!

I took myself out for a celebratory first-night-and-here-I-am-in-Italy dinner at a restaurant
Jonathan recommended. It was lovely. A glass of Chianti, fresh bread with olive oil and glazed
balsamic, and a pasta carbonara. A bonus was the newlywed Aussie couple who sat at the end
of the table and told me about their upcoming adventures in Lithuania. A great start!
The restaurant was only twenty steps from my hotel so I had no trouble getting back.

I thought I would have a little down time and watch a show but I failed getting on my mother’s Amazon
account to watch my BritBox addiction and Ambien substitute, Shakespeare and Hathaway.
Amazon did not transfer that series to Italy, a minor yet disappointing glitch but I was not too
worried since I had traveled for twenty-two hours, had sensory overload, and opted for that
second glass of Chianti. I figured I would sleep like the dead.
I did.
Until the dead woke me.

It began with the lights. In the pitch dark I woke up to a glowing light display on the ceiling. I
thought I was tripping but then reminded myself that I have never taken a hallucinogenic. I sat
up and took stock, where am I? Once I regained my bearing and hydrated, I sprang into action.
Obviously, the lights are coming from an outside source, or so I thought. The single window was
blocked by the ceiling to floor drapery which could have been used for the Von Trapp children’s
play clothes. The drapes were closed. No light was coming from the bathroom. I scoured the
room. Nothing. Just as suddenly as they began, the lights stopped, and I willed myself back to
sleep.

Sometime later, I was awakened by noises – footstep noises, coming from the walls. Someone
was having a dance party in there which was impressive considering I was in a solo room with
no shared walls. Then the glowing ceiling lights returned. Surprisingly, I was fine. Not panicked.

Not scared. I felt oddly accepting of whoever seemed to
be throwing a rave inside the walls, complete with a light show on the ceiling. A haunted room
in Venice, it somehow felt fitting. Once again, I willed myself to sleep.

In the morning, for a moment, I considered changing rooms, perhaps even hotels. In the end I
decided to ride it out. I had one more night, so instead of holding a séance, I chose a to stick to
my game plan and explore this fairy tale of a city.

Fortified by a pot of tea and the complimentary breakfast, I set out on foot and wandered. I
stood before countless crucifixions, annunciations, and scenes of battle and triumph. I lingered
on bridges, waving to gondoliers and their passengers below. I got lost, found my way, and
promptly lost again. Every turn revealed a picture postcard; it was mesmerizing. I drifted into
shops with enticing window displays and happily succumbed – glass, jewelry, exquisite
craftsmanship and luminous colors. By the end of the day, I was thoroughly and satisfyingly,
tourist fatigued.

That evening, I opted for a liquid dinner in the hotel bar and knocked back a glass, or two, of
red wine, chased by a pair of Benadryl. I needed my rest; my adventures were heading to south
to Rome in the morning. I slipped into a sensory overloaded, jet-lagged coma.
Happy to report, success. A full night’s sleep. No ghost gang.

When I checked out, I asked the front desk clerk if there had ever been concerns about ghosts
in my room. He calmly replied that there were spirits in other rooms, but no one had ever
mentioned mind.
“Add it to the list,” I said.

For those who have never been to Venice, go! Go soon! If you have already been to Venice, go
back! Celebrate the art, taste every gelato, look for Mimmo the dolphin, and engage with the
spirits. The inspiration of Venice is endless.