And the Rain Rain Rain came Down Down Down

Today is the Monday before Mardi Gras. It is raining in Venice. A bunch. And a half.

After a freezing cold shower (trying to get a warm morning shower is fairly impossible in your average hostel, I will be doing evening showers from here on out), I head out to find something to eat. I discover there is a market in the street today.

Rainy Venetian Market Quaintness.


Just makes you want a salad, don't it?

Hey Joan, you were so right, these be the Real McCoy!

Also: There is a Laura Store. Homeopaths of the World Unite!

I mill about, then grab a magnificent cappucino and buy a crepe from a streetside stand. In the rain. But even in the rain, a brilliant cappuccino with a chocolate-banana crepe for breakfast? This is so my kind of town. Just look at it:

Almost Sickeningly Lovely.

The Shop Windows!

Glove Death!

Mary, I think I accidentally found your alley, too.

Also, due to Carnevale there are literally THOUSANDS of masks for sale everywhere you look, the majority of which are relatively hum-drum. But there are some real winners:







As I am wandering about in mask overload I stumble upon a small chapel that has been converted into a Antique Lace Shop and Showroom, like an itty bitty Lacis in Venice. I go chat them up and they are lovely, they don't allow pictures of the lace pieces but I get permission to take a picture of the space:

It's basically become a chapel of Lace Worship. How awesome is that?

After a great deal of window shopping and lace gawking, I walk over to the docks and buy a very expensive roundtrip "waterbus" fare to the itty bitty island of Burano where there are still little old ladies making the old fashioned needle laces. Then, I attempt to go to Burano to see the lace. I see the lace. But not all the lace.

The waterbus takes exactly 4 million years, so I arrive at the Museo di Merletto exactly 7 minutes after they close. Sigh. Perhaps I will have to do Burano: Part Deux on another day.
Not sure yet.

Nevertheless, Burano is still a pretty charming place to be:

Burano.

Pretty Parks with Stunning Statues. Were it not raining I would so have a picnic.

Back at the hostel there is pasta dinner the second and wild drinking games with the hostel kids. A complete Riot. Then, two guys from another hostel, Eric and Mike, round people up to go find some Venetian Drinking Nightlife and we end up crashing a birthday party at a nearby club. (Well, It really SEEMED like we were crashing it but the bouncer did let us in so maybe it's a Venice thing). I bring cute shoes in a bag and upon our arrival I head straight to the bathroom, pull off my extra layers and trade hiking shoes for patent leather heels. I hide the hiking shoes behind the floor-length curtain, head to the dance floor and dance like a mad thing. The Italian boys are amused by me but clearly think I'm insane so they do not attempt to dance or talk with me.

We all head back to hostel about 2am, and crash.

Apparently I am staying in Hostels to make up for the fact that I never lived in a dorm in College.

Huh.

Coming Soon: Carnevale Costumes!!!

Notes: San Marco's