Venice, where love is but a mystery.

I've been absent, I apologise, you see, the past week has been rather hectic...

Last Saturday morning in Venice, I awoke with a feeling of nervous excitement.  What if Italian Beard & I didn't get on.  What if it was the alcohol that had made him so alluring.  Getting ready, I headed down to the vaporetto stop & took the number two to the train station.  Praying to God this meeting was going to go well.  Just as I was head down, typing away on my phone, IB appeared beside me.  He was still good looking in the daylight.  A relief.  Dressed in skinny jeans, Converse sneakers & a beanie.

We walked over to San Marco square, the weather being less than impressive.  Thankfully not too cold, but very overcast.  I was hoping to palm my camera off on him all day, make use of his photography skills, but when he took out an SLR with a very impressive lens, I began to feel shy about my measly number.  Having wanted to spend the day taking excessive amounts of photos, I found myself almost too embarrassed to take any at all.  Was he going to judge me on my snaps.  They were never going to compare to his.  He was fiddling with settings, doing test shots, I normally just point & shoot.

After a little while, we took a break on a bench & attempted a conversation.  I soon realised our outlook on life was somewhat separated & my disappointment began to set in.  It was nearly noon & IB wanted to go somewhere for lunch.  I usually snack, backpacking round Europe for six months doesn't often afford you the luxury of eating out.  Whipping my phone out, I found some vegan friendly places to eat, through the HappyCow website.  Picking one, I located it on Google Maps & with IB saying he knew where  it was, we went off in search of it.

Walking along to the Castello district, past the Biennale, the streets becoming more & more desolate, my feet beginning to tire, there seemed no sight of an eatery.  Over an hour went by, looking, looking & still, nothing.  Checking Google Maps again, it seemed we were no where near the place.  We both became so famished & tired, we gave up & IB picked a bar to sit at, back in San Marco.  I looked at the menu, €6 for a panini!  Cripes.  Spent that for a week's groceries in Pisa.  Still, I was sure he'd be a gentleman & pay.

Ordering a vegetable panini, minus the mozzarella & a small bottle of water, when it came, it severely lacked any flavour.  Conversation between IB & I had equally dried up to an implantable level.  When the bill arrived, €14.50, IB said he had €10 & put it down.  I equally only had a €10 note, so threw it into the pot.  Okay, I thought, €4.50, it's not too bad.  But when the change came, which was already short a euro, IB gave me €2!  €8, I spent €8 on a panini & a sip of water.  I was beside myself with annoyance.  Should I say something.  What could I say, thanks for spending €80 on the train to see me, but hey, could you give me my change please?

Being an art student, Italian Beard wanted to go see the Guggenheim & the St Maria of Salute Basilica.  Off we set, in their direction, blindly following his lead once again, presuming, that as an Italian, who'd been to Venice before, he'd know his way around.  However, this turned out to be rather a misconception, as we turned left & then right, over a bridge, round a corner, came to a dead end, back round, over another bridge, round another corner & so on for several hours.

My feet began to hurt, I was tired & getting hungry, still smarting from my €8 panini.  It got dark, it got cold.  Finally, we made it to the Guggenheim.  It had closed minutes before.  Drat.  A few minutes walk away was the church.  Also closed.  Double drat.  By this time I wanted to punch him in the face.  As a first date, things were not going well.

IB then wanted to go & check in at the police station, where he was bedding down for the night.  His father is a policeman & so, as family, he gets to use the accommodation available at any police station all over Italy.  Still worked out more expensive than the hostel I was staying in, but hey, I guess it's the novelty factor.  The station is set just outside of the main island, in Venice Mestre.  A ten minute bus ride away.  Once there, he checked in & then not long after, we hopped on a bus back.  All a bit pointless really & I was starting to feel as though the whole day had been.

By the time we got back to San Marco, it was late.  We'd picked Frary's vegan friendly restaurant, in San Polo for dinner & it closed at ten thirty.  Speed walking in the dark, I indicated to turn right, he said to go straight.  Off we trekked ahead, coming to a dead end & ended up doing a u-turn back to where I had bloody said to go.  Looking at the time, it was now ten twenty & I was about ready to eat my arm, after first ripping it off & beating him with it.  Finally we made it to the restaurant & thankfully, despite the time, they let us in to eat.

Frary's is a middle eastern restaurant, run by a group of Italian woman, that serves non-veg food, but has both vegetarian & vegan options.  I had a mammoth bowl of couscous, laden with roasted vegetables & accompanied by a vegetable soup, which I poured over, like a sauce.  It was quite delicious & I would recommend a visit.  Sadly, despite the good food & Billie Holiday playing out my favourite songs, the atmosphere between IB & I was awkward to say the least.  Every time I tried to strike up a conversation, he just seemed so uninterested.  I just gave up in the end.  At one point we sat in silence, both on our phones.

It is safe to say, that my hopes for an Italian photographer husband had dissolved.  Grateful that he paid the bill, we left, hopped on a vaporetto & departed ways at different stops.  It may be the most romantic thing someone's done for me, coming to Venice to see me, but sadly, it was clear, that being good on paper, just isn't enough.  If there's no spark, no common ground, then really, there's nothing.