Venice the second the second

I saw the doggy again! I was having a drink on a terrace over the water, in a completely different part of Venice to where I saw him this afternoon, and suddenly there he was under my table. Unless there's a whole crew of ginger dogs happily roaming Venice, perhaps commissioned by the council to add a little extra tail-waggyness to the city.

This guy is the Helen Keller of limbs. I have to find out what the building next to him is, because I peeked in a window and there was a gigantic (like, five foot long) silver spoon lying on the floor. That's my kind of art!

Up close and personal with the lepers.

Romantic Venetian crane. There is construction and restoration all over the place, everywhere I've been. I guess a city is never really finished, even one as totally filled in as Venice.

Venice is pretty much one giant alleyway, and yet it smells perfectly clean everywhere. Therefore I ask: What is wrong with you, Parisians?

There's a constant ocean haze over Venice that gives good sunset.

Social subversion and cocktails? Count me in.

Woof!

I can't make my camera take good night shots (unless there's a setting, Bee?) so you'll have to take my word that Venice in the evening is lovely.

Venice the second

I did full-on Venicing today - that is to say, random wanderings to nowhere in particular. When you're tired of walking you get on a vaporetto for a while. When the vaporetto gets so crowded that you're afraid it's going to sink you get off and walk for a while. It's the perfect system.

Just so you don't think Venice is entirely too amazing to be real - this is the view from my room, which I have to stand on the bed to see. Actually, it's quite cool. That's what Venice looks like on the inside!

Winged lion, symbol of Venice. And of the fearsome power of genetic modification.

Gondola jam.

Campanile di San Marco. You can't tell, but when I took the picture it was going off. All around the piazza the cafes have live music and all the musicians have to stop when the bells ring.

Basilicata di San Marco. It's hard to get a good photo of all of it because that fence protecting the campanile is right there, but you get the idea.

Caffe Florian. I paid...ack...I paid 17.50 to have a hot chocolate there. In Euros. At first I was all "But that's what you do in Venice", then "Oh well, I'm on holiday", but to be honest I just couldn't make myself feel alright about it. It was a good hot chocolate, and it came with a souvenir programme and I stole the sugar sachets and part of the cost was the "supplemento musico" for the musicians that are playing out there, but still. Too excessive, and with the interior decoration to match.

Winged lion on a pole match.

Chiesa della Salute again. I called out "Buon giorno lepers!" and a voice came back "It's Hansen's Disease, you jerk!"

This building is made entirely of art.

After many attempts (it's difficult on a boat) I finally got a picture down a canal of bridge through bridge through bridge. High five!

There's a whole area around the back where about half a dozen of these giant cruise ships are docked. I think this is the Backstreet Boys cruise. Buon giorno lepers!

It's not my pictures that are crooked, it's the buildings, dammit!

I wandered off the tourist track and came across neighbourhoods with real live washing hanging between the buildings. Super authentic.

Italian Coke cans are molto elegante compared to New Zealand ones.

I even had my very own angel watching over me as I ate lunch. By the way, how good is spaghetti Carbonara! It's like an omelette made out of pasta. It's breakfast for lunch. It's all things to all people.

This is a hospital. It's amazing inside too, but I didn't take pictures because it felt weird to be all touristy right where people are signing papers to have life support turned off and whatever.

The bells, the bells! They've been ringing all day. It was Easter Sunday so there was probably extra dongings to commemorate every braaaaains that Zombie Jesus ate. The ones (bells, not brains) that woke me up sounded like they were playing the theme tune from M*A*S*H. 

And finally, a friendly doggy out for a walk. I don't usually like animals, but this guy was cool.

Venice the first

Ahhh. Venice is just so...effortless, is maybe the word I want. In Paris and London you feel like you're fighting against the city to get anywhere. But Venice is the destination. Sure there are attractions, but the main pastime is strolling and photographing. And trying to block out the memory of that Johnny Depp and Angelina Jolie movie.

You know there's the bit in 30 Rock about when you turn 30 and live alone you start saying to yourself "Careful, careful" when you're getting out of the bath. Well nerts to that, because my bathroom has an "I've fallen and I can't get up" alarm. I wonder if it can also be used to summon the lovely porter who knocked at my door before to give me a wee bag of Easter eggs?

Right outside my hotel.

Back down towards my hotel from the next bridge - it's that there yellow building.

I don't even know what this is, but it's simultaneously pretty cool and looks like it's just been stuck onto the front of a less-impressive building. 

Oh, this is from the vaporetto (water bus). I was flaming with envy that someone not only lives in Venice, but also has a tree-y rooftop terrace. Speaking of the vaporetto, I got a concession on my three-day pass because I'm under 30! I was giddy with glee about that.

Ponte dell'Accademia. Apparently there's only four bridges that cross the Grand Canal and this is one of them and it's right near my hotel. Stoked. 

Santa Maria della Salute from the vaporetto. Apparently this is a plague church. Common sense tells me that means it was built as thanks after the plague receded, wishful thinking makes me hope it's home to the world's most exclusive leper colony.

Bargain of the day: street sellers hawking replica Prada and Gucci and Chanel handbags right outside boutiques selling the actual thing. Oh for Karl Lagerfeld to come out and take on all of them at once using only the power of eccentricity to give them Chinese burns and stomach ulcers.

And I did like the Italians and had an espresso after lunch. It was awesome, like being kicked in the throat by mighty Thor. There's probably no returning to flat whites now.

Paris the sixth and Switzerland the zzzzz

I was stricken with an unpleasant mood my last morning in Paris - I was fully sick of everywhere smelling like tinkle, and I stupidly decided to lug my luggage to the station on foot rather than catching a taxi. I know, I know, how dare I be in a bad mood in Paris. I'm certainly going to hell for it. But in the meantime, I consigned my bags to a storage locker and took a meander in Les Jardin des Plantes (this distinction is apparently necessary in France - perhaps they also have gardens of walruses or butter churns), and was considerably revived.

That's the natural history museum back there. I guess all the other museums are filled with unnatural history?

Hello young fellow! Europe has been sadly lacking in exotic wildlife so far for me. This pigeon in walking shorts is about as exciting as it's got.

I call this one "Man who went out to get the newspaper in a towel and got locked out and turned to stone waiting for his neighbour who had the spare key to come home from her holiday in Majorca".

Real lovely. If you're into that whole trees and light thing.

I ate at an Italian cafe somewhere near Gare de Lyon, and when I ordered spaghetti bolognese the waitress thought I was saying "polonaise" and started apologising that she didn't speak Polish - much to the amusement of the other patrons. Huh. Of all the times I've been mistaken for Polish, that was the first.

And then, onward. Dudes, the train was awesome! I was in a compartment with a French woman who spoke many languages and an Argentinian guy with an awesome beard, and his mother. It was all most pleasant. The Argentinian guy was worried about being robbed during the night (I think his mother's travel paranoia was rubbing off on him) so he hid his money in his bag of Maltesers - only he told us that's what he was doing, which was funny considering we'd be the ones to rob him.

I had a top bunk so at bedtime I climbed up to be on a narrow fold-down bed just under the ceiling. You'd think it'd be hard to sleep, but something about trains is quite soothing, in spite of the noise, because the only times I woke up were when we stopped, first at the Swiss border and then at the Italian border, each  accompanied by a welcoming text message from Vodafone and the reassurance that it's still going to cost me a fortune to make and receive calls. Thanks guys!

And now I'm in Venice (!!!) but we'll deal with that later.

Paris the fifth

Blech. Wednesday must be the night Parisians come out to urinate in the street.

Anyway, back to enchanted tourist mode. Epic walk today dudes. I'm glad I don't check the distances before I set out, because I'd just say "Forget that. What's on TV?". As it is I haven't even turned on a TV since I've been away.

Today's destination was Pere Lachaise cemetery. I also went through Place de la Bastille, Place de la Nation and Place de la Republique. Oh, I'm going places, baby.

The Hotel de Ville de Paris. Sort of like the town hall, maybe. When you type Paris into Google Maps this is where the map centres. 

Same spot but towards the sunny side.

The back of Notre Dame. Not pictured: hunch.

Random Parisness on Ile Saint-Louis

Colonne de Juillet at Place de la Bastille. Nothing says violent revolution like a prancing angel.

Place de la Nation. In keeping with today's theme of monuments that celebrate the triumph of the republic, this statue is called The Triumph of the Republic. I guess this commemorates that one revolution where the French all became circus folk, before realising, "If we're all circus folk, who will come to watch the circus?"

Various lovely parts of Pere Lachaise cemetery. If you can't manage to bury me at Makeout Creek I'd be quite happy in here. It seems a weird place to visit, but it was pretty much the nicest part of Paris so far, in terms of atmosphere and lack of people and a break from the endless Flintstones-style repeating backdrop of streets lined with shops.

Our Lady of the Facepalm.

Oscar Wilde's grave.

Triple H was here. Figures that he'd be a closet Wilde fan.

D'oh!

Random street art. There's no Bloods vs Crips in Paris, just Origami Swallows vs Hipster Crows.

Place de la Republique. It's a fitting celebration of democracy to have your tax dollars go towards things like this.

I'm reclining luxuriously right now and may never move again - except that I'm going to Italy tomorrow!