Pink Trash in Italy - Part One

When traveling, I always say it’s best to be prepared. Pack the night before. Make peanut butter sandwiches for long journeys. And most importantly, ensure your travel documents are handy. This past week, upon leaving for Italy, I assumed I had everything in order. The problem was, once I began gathering my things on the morning we were to depart, I realized my wallet wasn’t where I thought it to be. It was gone.

I panicked. “Where could it be,” I wondered. For twenty minutes, I searched high and low for a personal belonging that seems to disappear quite often. I ransacked the closet. I rummaged my gym bag. I scoured the bedroom. No luck. “Maybe I left it at the Monoprix?” I thought. So realizing we had missed our window to take the train to the airport, I ran to the grocery store in the rain with slim hopes they’d be open at 7:30 in the morning. Five minutes later, I returned with no wallet and little chance finding my elusive travel companion. With only another 15 minutes remaining until we’d be officially tardy for our departure, I once again searched the flat. Soon I realized it was hopeless. My wallet was gone. Fortunately, I had my passport so off we went to the airport.

As a result, for the next seven days, I fretted over losing my wallet. Chris, of course, thought I had once again misplaced it somewhere at home. You see, I’ve cried wolf before – many times. I think I lose my wallet only to find it in the hamper, under a chair or slipped behind a dresser. But this time was different. I knew it was MIA.

So because of my blunder, I began implementing ways to replace the wallet’s content value. No cash was involved. Credit cards and drivers license could be replaced. It was the tanning point card I had purchased the night before for €140 as well as the €40 cab ride we took to the airport. I considered it my punishment. Problem is, it began to be Chris’ punishment as well. But isn’t that what relationships are all about?

My first savings came from taking the land bus vs. a water taxi once we arrived in Venice. For €70 less, we traveled the Italian countryside. Alongside senior citizens and two lesbians, we saw what appeared to be Pensacola, Florida. The rooftops were flat with red brick shingles, gold and tan houses lined the streets, dogs ran loose and trash blew in the humid wind. But I had saved over half of what I needed. I was on my way to financial security.

Once we arrived in Venice, I was pleasantly surprised by a small oasis filled with winding canals. Based on our bus ride to town, I wasn’t sure what to expect. And it’s not like I had researched Venice to better acquaint myself with our travel destination. I was along for the ride. So when we began walking the cobble stone streets filled with people instead of cars, the fresh air and serene surroundings put a smile on my face. And once I realized Madonna slinked her way through the canals to Like a Virgin, I was even happier. But I still had over €110 to recover.

Over the next three days, we visited Murano, Burano and walked through the sites in Venice. With our friends Rob and Scott from Houston, we had a guided tour through a glass making plant in Murano as well as the showroom. Basically, they provide free of charge a ride to the island then demonstrate glass blowing techniques all with the hopes you’ll spend €1,200 for a set of four “overblown” champagne glasses most drinkers would assume you bought a Target for $9.99.

From there, we hopped aboard a water shuttle to the island of Burano – a village known for the dieing art of lace making and it’s quant surroundings of brightly colored houses that look as though they were made of Legos. After a delicious pasta lunch and a Northern Italian treat I truly loved (meringue, cream and vanilla cake dessert), we walked to find some lace made by famed little old ladies with time on their hands.

We passed many imposters on our way to a shop that appeared legit. But then again, who really knows. Chris was intrigued by a salesperson’s telling of how the lace is made so he purchased a small square for €70. And on our way to the shuttle, we stumbled across the shop where it was stitched by hand. Sitting in a chair, we saw a surprisingly vivacious woman knitting the lace. More surprising, we spotted the lace salesperson in the back. We’re still to this day unsure how she managed to beat us to the shop. We didn’t doddle. In fact, we walked rather swiftly. But there she was, smiling, proud of the lace making demonstration. As we left scratching our heads, we surmised that as soon as Chris made his purchase and she told us of the manufacturing facility, she twitched her noise, appeared up the street and pushed her mom in the chair with needle and thread in hand. I, of course, left empty handed. I don’t do lace and I still had money to find.

Though we met our entourage for island excursions and evening dinners, Chris and I spent most of our time alone - wandering through the guidebook recommended tourist destinations and motor free pathways around the city. We visited the Piazza San Marco where we saw four gilded bronze horses that were plundered from the Crusaders’ sack of Byzantium during the Fourth Crusade. The Basilica di San Marco, a church that houses the horses, itself was amazing with 12th century mosaics on the walls and marble floors. (Though, this is where I began having some issues with the church spending ungodly amounts on idolizing themselves while the poor suffered outside their doors).

We toured the “Ghetto” where the name first appeared in reference to segregating the Jews in the 16th century. As we walked through the urban island, I of course called my friend Val to let her know we where thinking of her. Whenever any Jewish reference is made, I always give a shout out to the Greenberg family. But it wasn’t until we stumbled across a puppet maker that I saved another €70 on my way to financial freedom (yes, I had to spend money to deduct, but that’s a minor detail).

Chris and I believe the most impressive finds are hidden gems tucked away on streets most tourists never find. This is where I found Sier Pantalone. Made by hand, he represents a character in Commedia dell’Arte who’s rich, greedy and naive. After spending over an hour inside the shop deciding between “Mr. Pantalones” and another that resembled a Joker, I made my purchase. Because the puppet maker enjoyed our company, he deducted $20 from the original price. Better yet, as we headed back to our hotel, we realized we had saved even more money since we made our purchase from the manufacturing facility. We spotted other works by the craftsman in a few shops along the way for more than $50 the original asking price. So with the discount in hand and the new collectible in tow, we were able to deduct another €70 from our total – leaving us with just €40 remaining until I could close the book on my wallet mishap. But this wouldn’t come for another five days – until we passed through Florence and arrived in Rome.