This is a long one, so if you came for a cute photo of Carbon in Venice, scroll to the next post, I'm putting up some photos right now! 
Over four years ago was my last stay in Venice. It was also my last long stay here with Brogan, though we came for a two-night hop just before he died. During that last long stay, I rented an apartment in a family large house near the garden district. It had looked good online, was offered at a reasonable price and it was near the only public park in Venice, a place I’d always wanted to try as it is Venetian dog central.
When I arrived, it turned out that the family hadn’t been entirely truthful about the apartment or its “mod-cons”. It turned out that the what was meant to be my own independent apartment was actually part of their house where they’d shoe-horned in a mini-kitchen. Brogan and I would have to enter through their own living room - which was in perpetual use with three young children – then go up a shared staircase and then the apartment through a thin and barely lockable door. My bedroom also shared a door with the bedroom of their young son, a door which I had to ask them to lock multiple times as I kept having a young visitor.
In addition they controlled my heating and didn’t see a reason – in December, January and February – to heat the house during the day while they were at work. I also worked during the day – in the house – and subsequently froze my posterior off.
The icing on the cake was that they turned the shared wifi off except for during the day when the children were at school or day care. I needed wifi for work purposes between 4am and 10pm. Yes, I’m kind of an online addict!
The reason they turned it off was that they felt the wifi was physically harmful to their children. Now if that’s their thing, then more power to them. But (1) they agreed to 24/7 wifi before I signed the lease and (2) Venice is so densely populated that I could detect five other networks in their house so even if they turned off their network, their kids were still getting fried with wifi (their term, not mine).
This is a long way of saying that it was a very long three months in that cold house trying to work off internet sticks.
However, the saving grace was the neighborhood and the park. Brogan and I went every morning and nearly every evening and thanks to him I got to meet lots of interesting people. One woman who was from Padova and had been forced by her husband’s employer to move the family to Venice and hated it because of all the neighborhood gossips – about whom she in turn gossiped about. A fifth generation gondolier who told me all about the very long training they go through, how the job is inherited, and the ENORMOUS recent scandal of the first female gondolier.
One woman was particularly a supportive ear about my odd living arrangements. She thought it was ridiculous that they’d advertised it as one thing (and independent apartment) when it was essentially a guest room with a kitchenette. She shared my cringeworthy discomfort at having to walk through nightly family get-togethers just to take the dog for a walk.
“Next time stay at my place. I’ve got a rental apartment over in San Marco…I’ll give you a great deal and it’s perfect for Brogan.”
Great offer, but it turned out that her place didn’t have internet or a washing machine. The place I was in didn’t have a washing machine either and by that time I was truly tired of handwashing towels and sheets in the bathtub. I was not interested in doing that ever again. And no internet was just a no-go for work. Still, I faithfully tucked away her contact info and vowed to look her up the next time I had a long stay in Venice.
Then Brogan died later that year and I never came back to Venice again. Until yesterday, that is.
So why all the build up? And if you are still with me, my sincerest respect! Well, when I rented the little apartment that I was in last night and tonight, I did see that owner’s name was the same as the woman I’d known nearly five years ago in Venice. However, it’s an extremely popular name and what are the chances? Plus this little place is mod-con central: great internet, fab washing machine, air-conditioning, thermostat heating, etc., etc. It did NOT sound at all like what she’s described to me five years ago.
When the car had its tire hiccup yesterday, I called the apartment owner to let her know I’d be late. My Italian is so poor – it keeps coming out as Spanish – plus I was flustered over the car, so it was a pretty frustrating conversation. She then called me again last night just as I was huffing and puffing my way over the Accademia bridge, nearly to her place but not quite.
“Let’s meet tomorrow at 8pm,” she says, “I really want to meet your dog.”
Well, that’s NICE I guess, but a little weird. I’m only here two nights after all. I didn’t really want to have to plan to come back to the apartment at a specific time…I wanted to enjoy some wandering!
I thanked her as politely as I could and asked if she could call me tomorrow (today) as I didn’t know my plans yet. Right on cue – and as I’m wandering aimlessly somewhere around San Marco Square – my phone rings.
“Wow, this woman is quite persistent,” I think.
She says, “I’ll meet you in front of San Mark’s in 10 minutes” and then hangs up.
This is when I think, could it be the same woman from five years ago? Is that why she wants to meet up so badly? But if it is, why doesn’t she just say, “Hey, are you the woman with the old Rottweiler from the Gardens?”.
So, no, I think, can’t possibly be her.
Carbon and I waited in San Mark’s and he got lots and lots attention from tourists, so he was in heaven.
And of course you know what I’m going to say – up strolled Patrizia and her dog Liu, who I remembered very well from five years ago.
“It is you!” she says.
“How come you didn’t say it was you?” I ask.
And then we launched into a chat like I’d last seen her yesterday.
Anyway, it was really lovely to see her. She said she didn’t ask if I was the woman from the Gardens as she didn’t understand how I had a dog named Carbon instead of Brogan.
It has been a long time since I’ve had to go through what happened to Brogan with someone who knew him. It was sad but not nearly as hard as it used to be. Mainly it was just so nice to have someone remember him so well and with so much affection.
The upshot of all this is that we had a very long chat standing in front of St. Marks. She kept saying, “Small world, small world!” and I kept saying, “I’m so sorry my Italian is coming out Spanish!”. And she offered me her adorable apartment anytime from November through January for a price that made my eyes pop out (in a good way).
Now my Venice-loving brain is tying to shift around all SORTS of plans to see if I could take her up on her offer. I have to say, I’m only three days into this road trip and there seem to be surprises around every corner!
So that’s day two in Venice even if it only feels like day one. Carbon has mastered his muzzle on the vaporetto and his foot is doing much better with just the sock/boot combo and no wrapping.
Tomorrow we move to Lido and I need to start sorting out something for Sunday onwards or the threat of homelessness – or just a really skanky hotel – looms!
That's a keeper! Or on the same theme, an Andalusian Donkey Retriever. Though it's true he didn't retrieve any donkeys, more like they were trying to retrieve him.
