Venice, A Bridge of Sighs?

Day one of our European, Asian adventure, finally setting off to Venice on easyjet which is an adventure in itself. We set off at 8.45, with a much appreciated lift, with our heavy bags from Trish's sister Marie to lime street station to get the train to Manchester airport. The journey went quite smooth till we got to the airport rail station and I decided we no longer needed the tickets and threw them away, only to be confronted by the conductor at the exit, and then had to scurry back down the escalator and retrieve them, at least I was told I wasn't the first person to do it, quite pleased over that. Inside the airport we had to chuck out most of our liquids when we were presented with a bag even Barbie would struggle with, so once through security it was time for a well-earned pint before being herded on to the plane, economy airline style, I’m already knackered and I’m still on the tarmac in Manchester!

 Finally touched down at Venice airport and decided to go and sort out our non-existing boarding passes, as Alitalia's website had only decided to give us boarding passes from Abu Dhabi to Bangkok. With no time to spare, and no sign of how the hell we were going to get from Venice to Abu Dhabi, we went to Alitalia’s customer service desk and where met with a lady smiling with more white teeth than anyone should have, who said in the usual Italian way "come back tomorrow, we can sort it out then" and if you've ever been to Italy this doesn't inspire confidence at all.

So then we went to the ticket office to buy our bus tickets for Venice only to be told they don't take American Express, that will do nicely my arse, so had to use my visa debit card instead. Once on the bus it was a pleasant enough journey if you like your windows blacked out with advertising when you are trying to see one of the most beautiful cities on earth.

Twenty minutes later we arrive at Piazzale Roma, literally the end of the road, one could go no further without using a boat, the bridges or getting our feet wet. After looking around and listening to "foreigners" asking the way we saw the bridge that leads you in to Venice and ascended it with our over laden bags and set off looking for the hotel Hesperia. Past the railway and in to the tourist area, we go in what is now very dark Venice only lit up by stalls selling nothing but trinkets and Venetian carnival masks, which are mighty fine, but not for us our bags couldn’t take another thing. 

 

After twenty minutes it was time to ask an Indian Italian waiter (I kid you not) the way, and with a shake off the head saying no or is that yes, it's the wrong way he pointed us in the same way saying it was the right way after all (this happens a lot in India as you will find out when I tell you all about our Indian travels later). Five minutes later we had arrived, the hotel was down a side street just off one of the many canals, easy really, not.

After checking in there was no time to spare, out we had to go, into the night and in to the labyrinth that is Venice. Armed with little more than a sat-nav that just about works in the UK, we headed in and were guided by the signs pointing to Rialto bridge and Piazza San Marco. These signs are quite good until you lose sight of them or they point in both directions, which can be a little daunting in the dark when you hit a dead end.

An hour later we see one of the most recognised bridges in the world, only this time it is unrecognisable because the Rialto bridge is covered in boards as it's being renovated, so on we go past the many restaurants that keep offering free seating, to the magnificent Piazza San Marco. Even in the dark it is still a sight to see a true gem only blighted by the many hawkers trying to sell you blue illuminous things you throw up in the air or torches that sprinkle light on the ground, are these souvenirs I want to carry round Asia with me, a resounding no was bellowed out to the hawkers.

So now it was back in to the maze to find our way back, only this time there were only a few signs pointing to the railway, so it was a bit of trial and error down the many deserted alleyways until we come to a little square. A Chinese man beckons us in to his restaurant with the promise of a drink and a meal for nine euros each, surely not? Once inside we should have known better, you know the one “if something looks too good to be true” anyway we were given a menu with pictures on, and what can only be described as a shot of lager, needless to say the food came out cold, so we said we didn't want it and still got charged 6 euros for the lager, I know Venice is expensive but this is ridiculous. 

We then brave the cold weather, which is actually warmer than our Chinese dinner, and make our way back stopping for a bottle of wine in the coop, then in to another restaurant only this time it was good and warm. Inside we ordered lasagne and spaghetti with hot oil, half a litre of wine and was then asked do want some garlic bread and water, only when we got the bill later did we find out we've been charged 11 euros for something we could have done without, oh well it was very nice and done the job. Now it's only a ten-minute walk now we know the way, and no dodgy Indian giving us directions, then off to bed and the uncertainty of the boarding pass saga.

It's day 2 and we're up early packed and ready to go, we have our breakfast and make our way past the army of workers pouring in from Venice railway station. Fifteen minutes later we manage to catch the 8.20 bus to the airport to try and avoid the traffic, but there is none, everyone goes by train or boat. We arrive at the airport and make our way to the Ailitala check in desk and wait behind the half wits who hold everyone up looking for passports and tickets in their bags, it's not like it's a surprise, how do they think they are going to check in, by telepathy?

Four half wits later we approach the desk and tell the woman we haven't any boarding passes, “no problem” she says, surely it can’t be as easy as this, yes it is, a first with the Italians. We head through security relieved and wait in the lounge for a couple of hours, I wrote day 1 blog there, not much to do except charge your phone there at the free charging points, then spend thirty minutes watching it in case anyone steals it. Fed up, we decide to go and see if the plane is boarding, and to our surprise it was on final call, so we were one of the last people on, you know the ones that every looks at thinking we are holding the plane up, thinking the pilot can take off when everyone is on. We have great seats the first ones after premium economy, no one in front of us and plenty of leg room. The flight goes pretty quickly, mainly because most of the time we are fed numerous snacks, then a satisfactory dinner at god knows what time, all washed down with a glass or two of vino. 

When we land in Abu Dhabi we are told we have to walk to the other end of the airport to get the Etihad connecting flight at gate 51, twenty minutes later and looking for said gate we see our flight at gate 35, I suppose 51 is easy to confuse with 35, teaming with people, I didn’t think you could fit this many people on a normal aircraft? Once the boarding sign comes on we make our way to the plane and queue for ten minutes then when we get to the aircraft and show our tickets we realize that we are sitting on opposite sides of the plane. I thought the Italian boarding pass fiasco (Italian word, you work it out) went too well, I was now sitting next to some man who looked like an extra from Lawrence of Arabia and Trish was sitting next to two German women who wouldn’t shut up. 

I asked the flight attendant if there were any other seats left so we could sit together and she said the plane was full, slowly but surely the plane started filling up and our hopes of sitting together were getting slimmer by the second, until we heard boarding completed. There were two seats the other side of me free, we’re in luck I thought, until a straggler turned up to throw a spanner in the works, but the flight attendant asked him to move to my seat and he said yes, 

I then called Trish over to sit next to me, and would you believe it, another bloody straggler turned up, luckily for us the attendant asked him to move to Trish’s seat so we could finally sit together and once again the reply was yes, another decent person, or just couldn’t understand English and thought he had to sit where he was told.

Once again the flight was uneventful but quick, these stopovers in the middle east make it easier than direct flights, plenty of food and a few more glasses of wine later, we touched down in Bangkok.There we are met with a wall of heat, and a surly border guard checking our passport and visas, she had the sort of face that would stop a clock, and I mean a Big Ben size clock. Finally, we both get through after her dissecting every centimetre (or inch if you still use old money) of my passport and then we have to go and fetch our colossal bags and head out into the inferno and bumper to bumper traffic that is Bangkok at rush hour.