Gelato: Italian for Gelato.

There is only one way to do Venice: get lost and eat. The day began early with a traditional Italian breakfast of Gelato and and Donor Kebabs, where our favorite Italian hostess carefully assembled our wraps dressed in traditional Scottish garb. Guess Venice has to appeal to the masses of tourists.

Just as we did the night before, we plopped down next to the canal and gorged ourselves silly. And it. Was. Awesome. The people watching and the building watching is simply out of control. So few words were exchanged due to shock and full mouths.

Then we decided it was time to explore the other islands surrounding Venice. Our waiter from the night before (the one that tried to kill us via Americano), had told us about a beach party on Lido. Say beach party, and American girls come running. Traveling around the islands of Venice is like being on a cruise. Their transportation system consists entirely of water buses and I think we all thought they were a lot cooler than they actually were. I could get used to hoping on a boat every time I need to go somewhere. It just seems more luxurious that way. Even with the overwhelming scent of gasoline.

Our hours spent on the beach really don’t require any explanation. We laid there. We drank wine out of a sea shell. We tried to drink Limoncella, which was apparently a generic brand of the more popular drink Limoncino (stupid Americans…). We didn’t make it very far on the bottle….

We did some yoga. People stared.

We haggled with the locals selling souvenirs to the suckers on the beach. And bought some really over priced jewelry. That we don’t regret. Including a really tacky pair of Italian sunglasses that the dude insisted on getting 5 Euros for. Just for the thrill of the challenge, Ali talked him down to 4 Euros, only to end up with some sunglasses that she really didn’t want. But its the principle behind it that matters.

We met some dudes from Amsterdam. That left us to go buy cauliflower for dinner because they “couldn’t eat like pigs the entire time.”

So naturally we went and got more gelato.

We headed back to dig sand out of places that sand shouldn’t be before dinner. As if any of us were even hungry…

Our cutie land owner (Papa Beneto, if you will) had reccomended we try a traditional Venetian sea food place. We were told to tell the hostess that “Fernanda sent us.” The place exploded with joy when we arrivecd – “OHHH FERNANDA FERNANDA YES COME ON IN! YES FERNANDA.”

Three courses and 0ne round of free shots later, we headed to the Realto bridge for a photo shoot. Because what good is a vacation unless everyone knows how much fun we are having?

Oh, and then we got some more gelato. Are you sensing a theme yet?

The next day was designated souvenir day. We battled through the narrow streets and stopped at every cheesy shop where everything was no doubt imported from China. But we loved it nonetheless. The day was basically broken up by shop, coffee, shop, gelato, shop, smoothie, shop, coffee, shop, Donor Kebab. And then all our Euro moniezzz had been spent and it was time to catch our 8 PM plane back home. Well..”home”

“Home” for the night was the Zurich airport. Where we slept over night.

Was the miserable 10 hour stay in Zurich worth it? The nine scoops of gelato sitting in my stomach certainly thought so.

Grazie Venice! Grazie!

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About Melissa Faulkner

1. If I blog, someone will eventually discover me. 2. If someone eventually discovers me, I will become rich and famous. 3. If I blog, I will become rich and famous. Follow me for shorter, daily doses! @melisslyss
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One Response to Gelato: Italian for Gelato.

  1. I love the photos, and Venice!! I’m also glad to know I’m not the only one who does yoga publicly and gets stared at hehe 🙂

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