Left Ruth for a flight in Rome, and H and I caught a train to Venice. Sat with some chatty Italian ladies, and I read my books and got excited about Istanbul. Hannah slept, as she is a champion napper.
Venice was lovely, but filled with tourists. Worth it for a gondola ride and an excellent dinner, but not for more than a night. Did the Rick Steves walk from San Marco to the Rialto, stopping at Harry’s American bar, apparently a favorite of Hemingway’s and inventor of the Bellini. Dinner at Osteria alla Botella, where H and I shared an incredible lobster pasta dish. She kept trying to reverse engineer it, and I look forward to her attempts, but I doubt it can ever be fully recreated. A thunderstorm at night heralded a cooler, or at least less humid, tomorrow.
Went to Shabbot services at the sole remaining synagogue, which was wonderful. We were separated by gender, which made me angry, but we both enjoyed the service. They had some different practices, but ended with Adon Olam sung to the same tune I remember. Very cool.
Then to the Peggzy Guggenheim museum, where we saw the fabulous art of all her fabulous lovers. Then back to the train, where we sat next to a Candian-Slovene couple and their multilingual, adopted Thai four year old. Globalization at work, right there.
Looking forward to being away from the tourist mobs, and a little further off the beaten path.