Dear Venice:
I love you.
Dear hotel:
I love you. You have a bed AND a view (see above!) and it’s so darn awesome.
Dear jerk one floor down:
If someone’s children are keeping you awake, the polite thing is to go and quietly talk with their parents. You don’t snarl up a floor at the top of your lungs about ‘shutting those damn kids up’. It’s 10:30 at night. We just finished supper. I am trying to get them to go to sleep. I am giving you a provisional pass (because you might be jet lagged), but seriously. Its an old place, mostly made of stone. Sound doesn’t carry that well. However, if you let on in the morning breakfast who you are, I have practiced my most saccharine smile and voice to inquire if you slept all right. don’t make me get passive aggressively polite on you.
Dear bystanders,
Yes, I am the mother with her kids on leashes. The little one runs, the big one drifts, and there are crowds. They work quite well, and judging by the chuckles, most of you think it’s brilliant.
Dear children,
You we’re both very good on the flight. Thank you. Thank heavens. I didn’t use all of the diapers, snacks, stickers, markers, crayons, craisins, crackers, or cheese I had packed. Or the second set of clothing. I am very glad that your both having fun, and doing okay with the time change. I also don’t care if you eat nothing but spaghetti with butter while we’re here, with bread and butter thrown in to mix it up a bit. I’ll have the food adventures instead.
Dear restaurant,
Yes, I am indeed one of those North Americans who doesn’t like to have a face on my food. I don’t care how wee the shrimp are, I’m going to pull their heads off. I have to admit, too: I’m not nuts about carapaces, or whatever the proper name for the crunchy shell of shrimp is. And the wee legs. And the whiskers, too.
Dear sardines:
I don’t get you. At all.
Dear gelato,
OM NOM OM NOM OMNOM. So far have tried salted caramel, vanilla, lemon, strawberry, and pistachio. (sharing, of course). The great thing is that we’re on holiday, and so we can have gelato every day. Several times a day, if we want. And I’m going to.
Dear bookstore,
I freaking adore the leather, hand bound, hand marbled paper cover books. Love them all. Would have bought more but am hopeful to find yarn. Also, can someone tell me what I could do with a seal? I don’t write a lot of epistles, I don’t do any scrapbooking, why do I need a seal and some sealing wax?
Dear pigeons in piazza San Marco:
Sorry about that. We’ll bring bread tomorrow to lure you in, and THEN let the kids chase you. Also, tip: don’t let the two year olds get close enough to kick you. Because they will.
Dear lady feeding the pigeons saltines,
Sorry that Eleni barged right up to you, through the crowd of pigeons. She thinks crackers are food for people, specifically, HER.
Dear Venetian museum organizers:
Thank so much for having a Klimt exhibit on and for making it so darn easy to get to. I am very, very happy to have seen some of his work in person. As I suspected, photos don’t do it justice.
Dear everyone back at home:
Venice is really fantastic, and I’m very excited about our holiday thus far. I spent a lot of time today grinning like a dolt out of sheer happiness. I’m also pleased that Pat has such a large family and that one of his bro’s is staying at the house while we’re away. It makes sorting out the mail situation less of a headache and I suspect that Suki is also deeply relieved. I don’t think he’d do well in a kennel situation.
Dear bed:
Yes, sleep.
