We headed to Miami airport the next day on the hotel shuttle. We were dropped off at the American Airlines terminal, and got in a short line since we were two hours early. We had two suit cases that were barely under 50 pounds, but easy to move since the were brand new spinners! My backpack was full and heavy as always with books, IPad, and some clothes in case our luggage gets lost! John insisted on bringing a dufle bag that was lacking form after it was stuffed with his essentials, but could be easily placed stuffed under the front seat of the plane.
Arriving at the counter, we placed passports and plane info on the counter. The attendant checked them out and said, "You are in the wrong place! You must go to the IBERIA counter way down at the end of this terminal!" Lucky us... That was not what was written on the form, but who were we to argue. So spinning our suit cases around, we spun down the terminal being joined by a lot of Spanish looking people talking in rapid, frantic Spanish as we walked as fast as our spinners could spin. I always wear my comfortable running shoes with socks so I can move fast through the airport in case I need to and my feet will stay warm on the plane. I established a consistent pace aiming at the last counter about a quarter mile away. I quickly passed up ladies in high, stylish platform shoes, and mothers trying to control their toddlers. I turned around and saw John lagging way behind me. He looked like he was having trouble controlling his duffel bag that would not stay on his shoulder. He ended up dragging it on the ground as he flipped-flopped through the terminal.
We finally arrived at the Iberia counter and got checked in but we were informed that it would be delayed. Great! We were hoping we would make our connection in Madrid to continue our trip to Venice. The plane was packed full of people. Half of them were going to Venice, and half were going elsewhere from Madrid. It was a long seven hour flight to Madrid and after arriving there we were told that we would have to rush through the security check out and then rush to the waiting plane to Venice.
We went to the security check-in with our carry-on. Things didn't look good with the long lines moving through in slow motion. We could see the inspectors took their jobs seriously. They meticulously checking each item as if we had all the time in the world. When John's carry on duffel bag went through the scanner, the blond inspector asked him to dump everything onto the cart. Out fell 2 stinky running shoes, 20 little bottles of 5 Hour Energy, ten assortment of little liquor bottles, aerosol sun screen, big bottle of 45 hour sunblock lotion, shaving cream and ball spot hide-away powder! She picked this up and asked in spanglish, "What ees thees?" John did his best to explain that the powder applied in a portion of hairless spot on the scalp would render a hair like mat that would appear to resemble hair! One of her eyebrows shot up as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. She threw the can into the bag and gathered the sunscreen, shaving solution and aerosol spray and walked slowly to the back of the room and dumped it all in the trash can with a big bang. She came back and told John to dump everything back into the bag and go.
Meanwhile, I was quickly going through checkout knowing I had put everything passable in my back pack and thinking I would sail through without a hitch. I skipped through the scanner and was told to stop and stand on the foot marks on the floor. Then I was asked to extend my arms out while I was swept with a manual scanner all over my body. This six foot tall inspector then put on her gloves and manually frisked me through out my front making me itch all over. She said to turn around and frisked me up and down my back. By the time she was through I was itchy all over. What did she expect to find anyway? I knew this was just a formality to show her superiors that she was doing her job, but why was I to be the lucky one that to be stopped. I was thinking of some choice worlds, but thought it best just to gather my stuff and shuffle out of there and head for my flight to Venice.
John quickly read the departure flight listings and said to go to the K29 terminal so we ran with everyone else trying to get to the departing flight to Venice. It so happened that the K29 terminal was the last one down the end and I noticed that we were the only ones hurrying to it. Then I saw the name of the flight, "Valencia" and said, We are headed to the wrong country! Valencia is in Spain. We asked where the flight to Venezia was in the terminal, and the flight attendant said J29. So off we went in the direction we had just come reaching the terminal just in time to see the attendant close the door. We said, "Hold on we are on this flight!" The attendant opened the door and called down the runway that there were two more passengers on the way. We dashed to the plane and saw all out fellow passengers already strapped in their seats. We hurried to our seats and breathe a sigh of relief just as the captain asked the flight attendants to take their seats. Venezia here we come... arrivederci Espana until we meet again!
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| Venice seen from the plane |
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| It does look like a FISH! |
We arrived in Venice two hours later. We circled Marco Polo Airport as we looked down at the island that looked like a fish! This unnatural island became the island of Venice back before the middle ages when the Roman empire was crumbling and the nasty Huns and Visigoths were invading Europe from the north. The community of peaceful farmers living in the mainland, known as the Veneti people were constantly being robbed and pillaged by the invaders so they decided to live in the marshy islands off the coast. The first islands to be inhabited were Murano and Lido perhaps because they were the farthest away from the coast. Eventually, these inventive people found a way to support houses on the 118 islands, dredging canals, and learned to live by fishing. They became excellent boat builders and began to trade with neighboring islands. It seemed a peaceful existence not being bothered by invading tribes.
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| John suffering from jet lag cant wait to enter the Boscolo Bellini Hotel |
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| View from the roof top of San Simion Piccolo with the green roof |
After landing we found a bus that would take us to the island via causeway linking the mainland to the island. We arrived at the bus depot crowded with buses and taxis called the Piazzale Roma. We looked around as people gathered their luggage and started hauling it over Calatrava Bridge. We thought there must be a better way than this! We didn't even know where our hotel was, and there was no way John was going to drag his duffel bag over the bridge! We asked around for a porter and lucky for us we found one that would haul our bags and that our hotel was just beyond the Santa Lucia Train s Station. He effortlessly picked each bag and placed it in his trolley and led the way. He was so fast we had to trot along just to keep up. His trolley had special foot attachments that made it easy to go up and down stairs and we made good time going over the bridge. We had to smile as we saw other tourists rustle with their heavy luggage over thirty steps over the bridge. That was a good incentive to pack light!
the floor and edged around them going in and out and about the room. The bathroom was more spacious but we found after taking showers, the water spilled everywhere outside the tub, and we had to drop our towels on the tile to keep from slipping. We could have done well without the bidet though we had fun trying it out! All these things were new and it would take some getting used to, but nothing would dampen our mood having just arrived in Venice. We were eager to get out and explore this little water wonderland.
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