All In

In poker there is a term “all in,” meaning that the player has put all his chips into the ante. With respect to our move to Italy, we are now “all in.” When we came here we still owned a house and all the stuff in it. Although we did not intend to go back unless the operation here was a total failure, and although we had the house on the market and wanted desperately to sell it, it was still there just the way we left it, and we could return and pick up as though nothing had happened. That has all changed. The house has sold, we have emptied it, and now there is no fall-back position. Some of our belongings we have shipped to Italy at no small expense. Most of them, however, have been sold for a song, or simply hauled away for not even a song. This causes one mixed feelings.

If we were going to live in Italy, then we needed to sell the house, pronto, and if I may use the subjunctive voice, I shit you not. We had it on the market for a year, supporting all the expenses that go with it, while at the same time living in Italy and paying dearly for that honor. This arrangement was about to become unviable when suddenly we got a contract on the house. We were very happy to have the contract. Although the terms were not particularly good, we could not afford to lose the sale, and a few grand was not going to ruin us. Keeping the house would. So we swallowed the fact that the house sold for quite a bit less than we had anticipated when doing the math as to whether we could afford to live in Italy, and went ahead with the contract.

To make things worse, we sold our things for about a third of what we had originally calculated they would bring, and the cost of shipping what we wanted to keep was more than double our original estimate.

All of these things, i.e., the substantial decline in the real estate market, the low prices we got for our things, and the high cost of shipping our stuff to Italy, are only further reminders that the gods have their heels on my neck. They giveth with one hand, and taketh with the other. This time, however, at least the balance sheet netted out in my favor.

As to our things, we made the decision to move to Italy for a number of reasons. One of the reasons was that we looked around at a house occupied by two people and two dogs, with ten rooms full of stuff. We had a few things that had some actual monetary value, and a few things that had sentimental value, but most of it was crap. We were slaving to support a house full of crap. We were also slaving to support insurance companies, car companies, mortgage companies, and credit card companies. We were not destitute, and between the two of us brought in more than the vast majority of people of this Earth, but we were being bled dry to live in what a professor of mine called the “Fordism Paradigm.” Basically, with the invention of mass production, there had to be a way for people to buy things that cost a lot of money. Enter easy credit - living on love and buying on time. Consequently, the idea of chucking in all, which would have to be done in order to live in Italy, had a certain appeal, and was a fundamental part of the plan.

It is easy to talk about doing a thing, but not so easy to actually do it. This reminds me of a line in a move, the title of which escapes me presently, but the hero (if such he be) wanted to have relations with a girl who always talked about sex. But at the crucial moment, she declined the invitation. Our hero observed: “She could say f___, but she could not do it.” The question was, then, could we say get rid of the crap, and also do it?

With a house full of stuff there are a couple of ways to go about getting rid of it. For example, one could have a yard sale, sell the stuff on eBay, or advertise in the paper. One could also have an estate sale. As we were limited in time and energy, we opted for the only thing that made any sense: an estate sale.

Prior to the sale we arranged for an international mover to come and take what we wanted to keep. This called for some hard decisions. We knew that the more we brought, the more it would cost to ship ($12 per cubic foot, plus $35 for the box). We also knew that whatever we left would sell cheaply, or not at all. If not at all, it would likely end up in a dump, or at best given to charity. We were deer looking into headlights.

Although I was not there (Karen had deemed me incapable of doing the job, so she went to the U.S. and took care of the whole thing herself, God bless her soul) I found the estate sale to be a bit sad and depressing. They put a big sign on our house like we had died. We were getting rid of stuff that took us years to accumulate. Most of my books (collected over 35 years); pictures of Beethoven bought in Bonn and framed at no small expense; paintings I had done; my records, etc., etc. I could say it, but could I do it? I did it.

Reader, dry your eyes. I am writing this sitting in my apartment in Venice (which I have already filled with new paintings). Our Sleep Number bed is on the way, as are some of my books and some of my pictures of Beethoven, as well as a large bust of Beethoven (whom I consider to be an incarnation of Jesus Christ) that Karen bought me for my birthday several years ago. The other stuff? Simply a payment to the gods for the privilege of sitting here telling you the story. The cost was low.

If I felt like it, I could get out of my chair and walk to St. Mark’s basilica. I could go to the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, or to have coffee at Campo Santa Margherita. Look in any guidebook of Venice, and everything in there is within a 15 minute walk of my apartment. Florence is three hours by train, Rome about five. I can fly to Paris in about an hour and a half at little cost. So, while the gods have taken a fee, they have left me with some legal tender, and the prospect of spending it here.

Slow Down when Visiting Venice

I live in the most beautiful and most romantic city in the world: Venice. Millions of tourists come here every year, crowding St. Mark’s Square, the Rialto Bridge, and the streets in between. Tourists can be seen trying to find their way in this medieval city, staring at their maps, looking up at the street signs, and back at their maps. Sometimes the frustration is obvious when couples, who should be enjoying such a romantic city, angrily argue over which way to go. This frustration is compounded by the bustle of the place. Locals are rushing about, trying to get through the throngs of gawking and window shopping tourists, rudely bumping into people, and exhibiting their own frustration. Add to this delivery men and garbage men pushing carts (there are no cars, and they must get things over bridges) through the masses, a day in Venice can seem hectic. Because relatively few of these millions venture away from the central tourist-choked streets to see the real Venice, people often come away with a bad impression. This is a shame. Once you get away from the touristy sections, Venice is uncrowded, interesting, and moves at a much slower pace.

Now, there are sights in Venice that once should certainly see, and which involve dealing with crowds. St. Mark’s, the Bridge of Sighs, the Rialto Bridge, the Rialto Market, and certain of the museums. These places are necessarily crowded and difficult to move around, but by all means see them. If, however, you come to Venice and don’t venture away from these areas, you may be unhappy with your time here. Fortunately, there are a few things you can do to make your experience in Venice much more enjoyable.

Often the hotels give out small maps of Venice for free. On these maps are indicated in yellow the main paths from one sight to the other. One should generally look at these yellow lines as streets to avoid. Instead, try to find another way to get to the sights. Also, it is better to go early in the morning to see certain sights, as they are not crowded until midmorning, and in the summer it is a cooler time of day. Consider as well going at night. Venice is safe at all hours of the night, it is cooler, less crowded, and in some ways more interesting.

Consider hiring a private tour guide, particularly if you have only a short time in Venice. A lot of people come to Venice for only a day, or take a day trip from someplace like Florence. Other people are in Venice either to meet their cruise ship, or to spend a day or so after a cruise. These people would benefit from taking a private tour so they can see Venice in an easy relaxed manner, and at their own pace, and without the frustration of trying to find their way on a map. At the same time, such a tour will give you some history and lore, take you off the beaten path, and make your time in Venice infinitely more pleasant.

Don’t try to fit too much into one day, and don’t over schedule. Being a tourist is tiring work; leave time open to do whatever comes to your mind. Sit at a café in a little square (campo), relax, drink some wine, and watch Venice go by.

Whether you come to Venice for a day or for a month, and whether you take a tour or simply meander on your own through the magical streets of Venice, take it easy and savor it. Take your time, look at the details, watch the people drink in its beauty. This is the best way - the slow way.


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Pizza Fish

There are times when a person does not want what is said in one language to be lost in translation into another, and ordering food is one of those times. Anyone who has traveled in Europe knows that sometimes the translation on the menu is not 100%. It may be a transliteration, but it is not a proper translation. One example that comes to mind in Italy is the translation of “prosciuto crudo” as “raw ham.” In the U.S. we call what the Italians refer to as prosciuto crudo simply as “prosciuto.” But in Italy, prosciuto means ham, and it comes in two varieties: cooked (cotto) and cured (crudo, which literally means raw). So, instead of saying “cured ham” on the menu, it usually says “raw ham.” So far as I can tell, this is universal.

Just as the restaurants have made an effort to translate the menu, the waiters in touristy places such as Venice generally have made an effort to learn English to the extent they are able to take orders in that language. But one must use care. Recently while giving a tour, one of our clients told the waiter that he would like a “nice juicy piece of fish.” I heard this and understood it, and did not give much attention to what was actually ordered. All of our meals came in a timely manner, including this man’s, which was a pizza covered with various and sundry critters of the lagoon. What the waiter had heard was “pizza fish,” not “piece of fish.” It was topped with calamari, mussels and clams still in their shells, and a whole scampi (miniature lobster), shell and all. I have eaten pizza all over Italy, and I have never seen anything like it. We all looked at it in disbelief.

There are three ways to react to this. Either one eats it and tries to be more precise the next time, one orders something else, or one neither eats it nor orders something else. We explained the problem to the waiter, who did not seem particularly sympathetic, so I asked for the menu. I looked for a nice grilled fish and ordered it. It was brought after a short time and the man enjoyed it very much. The moral is that when you order in a restaurant in a foreign land, be sure to refer specifically to the menu, pointing it out to the waiter what it is you want. Do not rely on your skills of pronouncing the foreign word, and definitely do not rely on the waiter’s skill in understanding a general statement as to what you want.

Coming to Venice? Visit our website at www.TheVeniceExperience.com

Alla Madonna Review

We were very interested to try this restaurant, as it has a reputation of being a favorite with the locals, and we have had clients sing its praises to the extent that they ate there three nights in a row. We wanted it to be good, and expected it to be good, but it’s not. The service is quick and attentive, but it’s too quick. There is no time between courses, meaning that they must have your next dish ready and waiting before you finish your first. This also leads me to believe that things may not be freshly cooked, but prepared ahead and reheated. This may be expected with the rice, I suppose, but it does not work with a grilled fish.

Karen had the seafood risotto and the mixed fried seafood, and I had carpaccio of cured beef and grilled red mullet. With the dinner I ordered a bottle of white wine.

The seafood risotto was ok, but not the best around. The mixed fried fish came with a long hair in it. The dish was promptly replaced, but the damage was done. The beef carpaccio was served as it always is on a bed of rocket, but that’s all. There was no cheese, as is standard, and for some reason the greens were not that good. The dish was unexciting, but tolerable. The greatest sin, and what probably contributes most to the poor rating, is that my fish were severely overcooked. This is a city where fish is king, and even the most backwoods restaurant can grill a fish to perfection. I do not know whether this was done in the original cooking process, or done in the process of reheating, but the fact remains: they were virtually inedible.

The final factor for me was that the wine, which was not the house wine served in a jug, but a bottle of wine, was boring and almost without flavor. The total bill was about 87 Euros.

With all the restaurants in Venice, one expects more from one with this reputation. Take away the hair, give me a fish that is properly cooked, and a decent bottle of wine, and I can overlook the hurried service. But as experienced by us, we cannot recommend it.

Coming to Venice? Visit our website at www.TheVeniceExperience.com

Ristoteca Oniga Review

We had walked past this restaurant since the first time we came to Venice, and never went in. This mistake was corrected a few days ago.

They call themselves a “Ristoteca,” which is a combination of Ristorant and Enoteca, I suppose meaning that it is somewhere in between. This distinction is lost on me, as it is on most Americans, but no matter; they can call what they please.

Oniga is located on the corner of Calle Longa in Campo San Barnaba, in the Dorsoduro section of Venice. I had mussels and clams as a appetizer, and a steak as a main course, and Karen had pumpkin lasagna with ricotta, and a mixed salad. I also had a bottle of red wine. All were delicious.

Karen’s salad was fresh and one of the best she has had in Italy. The Venetians do a lot with pumpkin, and this dish was delicious and obviously homemade. My mussels and clams were cooked to order, and were very tender (i.e., not overcooked). They were served in a large bowl with crusty bread, and were delicious. The only criticism I could offer is that they were a tad salty. In their defense, however, I have made several dishes while in Venice using the local mussells, and they tend to be much saltier than those I’m used to in the U.S. The steak did not come the way I expected it, but was already sliced, and served with a bit of greens and potatoes. It was so good, though, that I do not fault them for slicing it. The wine was a cabernet, which was one of the best wines I’ve had, and it was reasonably priced. The service was attentive and well-timed, and not hurried. This place is not white linen, but you can get excellent food and wine at a decent price. The tab was about 84 Euros for the two of us.

Dorsoduro 2852 in Campo San Barnaba; Tel. 041 522 4410; www.oniga.it
info@oniga.it

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Skeeters

Karen: “What are you doing?”
Mike: “Huntin’ skeeter.”
I spotted one of the little minions of Satan on the wall right behind Karen’s head. “Shh - don’t move” Whak! “Skeeter dead, one each.”

I was walking about the bedroom looking at the walls and at the 15' ceiling looking for any variation in the pale color that could be a mosquito. They seem to sit on vertical surfaces, such as the wall, or curtains. I found one or two and sent them to their reward, which I am sure is in the fiery underworld.

Since I have been here, starting even in January, there has been one or two mosquitoes in the house almost every night. Sometimes it can be attributed to leaving the doors and windows open which, like all such openings in Europe, contain no screens. Other times there is no explanation for their being in the house. Normally, the only time the apartment is open to the outside is for a few seconds at a time to let the dogs in or out. One may infer that they come from the canal, or from the garden. But I have never been bitten by a mosquito while walking around Venice, and I have only seen one in all the time I have been out in the garden. I was in the garden for a few hours solid the other day when it was sunny and warm. No mosquitoes came near me. In Maryland I would have been carried away by them.

The visitor to Venice must understand that there may be mosquitoes in their room, or in other places, such as roof-top decks. This, however, is no different than other places in the world where it is warm and humid, and should not put you off from coming to Venice. The mosquitoes here are of moderate size, light in color, and are nocturnal. This is contrasted to those in Maryland, which are small Tiger Mosquitoes, having black and white stripes, and which attack in number at any time of day or night.

My suggestion is that the traveler bring a small bottle of odorless mosquito dope in a spray bottle. The stuff is very expensive here, and having a little may help you enjoy your stay here.

Karen: “Turn out the light and go to bed.”
Mike: “I shall find and eliminate skee-tor.”
Karen: “You are a nut.”
Mike: Whak!

Coming to Venice? Visit our website at www.TheVeniceExperience.com

Restaurant Review: Al Giadarnetto

This restaurant is located in Dorosduro on the Fondamenta del Forner, and is easily identified by the large red sign on the building next to it that point you to San Rocco and Tintoretto, and by cages of song birds around the place. I found this place on a nice sunny day, and it looked very inviting. There were a few tables sitting outside, and there were cages of parakeets singing sweetly. So we decided to try it for dinner.

The restaurant is obviously family owned and operated, and it did not look touristy, which gave us great hope. It also has a wood fired grill, that was interesting to me. It turned out, however, that it lacked all of the basics that make a dining experience pleasant. The bread was stale. I consider it a personal insult when a restaurant brings stale bread. Karen ordered a prosecco that seemed to me to be corked, and the house wine was undrinkable. The service was chaotic and disorganized; it seemed that they were unprepared and almost surprised that they had to serve people dinner.

To their credit, they had a limited menu, rather than four thousand dishes, which is usually a sign that the food will be good. I ordered an appetizer of smoked beef carpaccio and for my main course linguine with salmon and black olives. Karen ordered a mixed salad and lasagna. Karen's salad was brought immediately, and she reported it to be fresh and good.

One of the things I hate most in a restaurant is when they bring the main course before the appetizer, which is what happened to me here. This is a fundamental failing and is inexcusable. So I had two plates at the table. The carpaccio was served on a bed of rocket that was not horribly wilted, with shaved cheese and some oil. It was not bad. The linguine was homemade and decent.

The failings of this restaurant overcome any benefit to be gained from decent food, and seemed to be systemic. The total tab was 46 Euros. For this kind of scratch, eat somewhere else.

Coming to Venice? Visit our website at www.TheVeniceExperience.com