Chapter 30: MASKS!!!

Our morning yesterday started with epic window leanings to obtain canal views and photographs of said canal views. That is a horrible sentence to try and comprehend. I apologize. Oh yeah, and of course me smacking my head straight into a window whose existence I was unaware of until facial contact was made. That was genius. And, sadly, rather typical.

We then had the best free breakfast any hotel has ever bothered to provide, made doubly awesome by the fact that it was, well, free. And then we were back in Venice. We briefly considered actually tracking down some specific sights but got about as far as pulling out our map before saying nah, screw it. We were having so much fun just standing on the street that why on earth would we want to go search out some stuffy crumbling building that was going to burden us with things like history and culture? No thanks.

So then I finally bought myself a mask after scoping them out for centuries—a nice green and gold one with a spray of green feathers bursting off the top. Oh my god, Venice during Carnivale is SO MUCH FUN. Just absolutely fantastic, fun, outrageous, mysterious, without feeling fake, cheap, or forced, like every single other carnival or fair I’ve ever been to. I mean Venice IS carnival. Everything else is just an imitation of this one. And trust me, this is where it’s at. There was a troupe of medieval musicians playing old wooden oboes and bagpipes and recorders and things with other medieval folk dancing around (I knew the tune, which made me feel cool, hehe), there was one of them “I’m painted like a statue” guys as Elvis who was pretty funny, there was a juggler, there was some strange comedian, a thousand fabulous costumes…. I mean I don’t know why I’m trying to list any of this, it really doesn’t work.

And there were SO MANY PEOPLE! Lisi and I took turns going into the main basilica (no backpacks allowed, thus the turn-taking) and checking out the view from the top. You could see over the whole square, all the tiny little people running around. It was awesome. Later we got some pizza and sat in a square (with a church and a well) where we listened amusedly to the violinist from… well I have no idea but Lisi recognized him. He had the best laugh ever, enough to keep us laughing through two pizzas each.

In the evening we went back to the Piazza San Marco where we managed to catch the finale to the day’s staged events. It was huge masquerade of all the lords and ladies and jesters and maidens and soldiers and dancers and other things like that who’s titles I can’t keep straight, all parading about in the most fantastic costumes you’ve ever seen, waltzing, performing, you name it. Then suddenly there was a massive explosion and thousands of little paper strips burst into the sky, so many of them fluttering around that for a moment you couldn’t even see the square. It was so much fun.

Unfortunately the rest of the night sort of degenerated from there. There was some weird modern dance performance on the side of the clock tower which kind of just looked like some people dressed in black waving pillows around halfway down a brick wall. For the heck of it we took a taxi ride to Lido and back (gotta love misty night-time water), and when we got back everything was DEAD. It was actually pretty eerie how quickly everything died down. Just a little while ago we had been among thousands of screaming people as the paper rained down on us and now a mere forty-five minutes later there was not a soul to be seen. We wandered forever, trying to find the Rialto bridge, getting lost, and hoping to find a café, a hope which was fading fast into the ominous abyss of the night. Then suddenly we turned a corner and found ourselves smack in the middle of a young crowd gathered a piazza watching a live band who’s guitarist was dressed as a cow. No, a bear, sorry. Cow, bear, whatever. Anyhow it was such a relief after having been stuck endlessly in the creepy grip of the abandoned misty streets—normal people, loud music, and two open bars just waiting to serve me a nice, strong macchiato.

Soon enough we decided it would be best to head back to the hotel and give ourselves enough time to get lost. We retrieved our luggage, made it smoothly to the train station, and then set ourselves to the gnarly task of simultaneously waiting for our midnight thirty train and staying awake. We did this mostly by having me lose at cards a lot.

Finally after nine hours, four trains, a few candy bars, and not very much sleep (all with a feathered Venetian mask that I was desperately trying to keep intact) we walked up the freezing hill to Lisi’s family’s pink house and collapsed into sleep immediately. It’s cool to be back here (Graz, Austria for those who are unable to keep up with my severe lack of explanation), to see her family again and to try and remember German words like kuchen. Sigh, Italian is SO much easier, but we’ll see how I do. (Another omnipotent interjection from the distant future: not well).