Venice

Our last stop in Italy was Venice, the fabled "City of Masks" - which I assure you did not live up to the moniker. Don't get me wrong, the ornate traditional carnival disguises were *chef's kiss*, but anti-covid measures were protocol non grata. It's hard to social distance when you're bumping uglies just passing another person in the extremely narrow alleyways. 

Throngs of probably infected tourists notwithstanding, Venice was amazing. The architecture, culture, and fundamental premise of the city is totally absurd and unique. It feels like one giant Diagon Alley - except instead of wands and cauldrons, you can find $500 gloves and miniature girders to keep your balcony just beyond Neptune's reach. It was easy to spend several days just wandering around, discovering new passages and secluded dead ends where Rick Steves probably smoked a J before putting that pained smile back on to continue explicating this majestic city to those uncultured swine watching at home who could never actually appreciate it anyway.

On Tuesday, John - and all 5 back/frontpacks of him - left us. So Nick, David, and I paid a visit to the world famous glass blowers of Murano island. We got honeydicked into paying 3€ to watch a demonstration at the workshop right next to the ferry terminal before learning that there were plenty of free (and better) ones further on. I remembered a few tricks from the glassblowing class that I took at the Crucible in Oakland, but the maestro didn't seem to appreciate my pointers.

The next day, Nick also answered the irresistible urge to return home to do underpaid science. Leaving just David and I, we headed to Lido island for the Venice film festival, where we watched a screening of "Old Henry." It was pleasantly unpretentious; anybody was free to walk around and attend screenings. Though the best celebrity we saw was some guy who looked like Shia LeBouf meets Neil Patrick Harris.