Oswegan described Europe as a photographer's candy store. And I totally agree; I had my camera looped about my wrist most of the time I was there. There were too many shots I could miss.

This is my roundabout way of apologizing for the large number of photos in this post. Does the apology make you feel more goodhearted towards me and the rest of the photo-chasing generation? Will you forgive me for how long it'll take to scroll down if you see nice pictures?


I hope so.

We arrived in Venice about 9 or 10 in the evening. Tired? Extremely. Plans to immediately fall asleep at our beautiful tucked-away-in-that-itty-bitty-corner hotel? Absolutely not. When you're in a new place with so much to see, who wants to sleep?

Not to mention we hadn't even had dinner yet.


We stopped at a little restaurant a few bridges away from our hotel. It had photos of celebrities splashed all over the walls, and a small TV that showed us what the rest of the world was doing. We didn't watch much TV though; we watched our food.


OK, so Aglio Olio's a pretty simple pasta dish that even I could make in my kitchen. It's still my favorite, along with great vegetable soup.

I say great because that's what it was. The vegetables were wonderfully soft and chewy while the broth was delicious.


Silly captions aside, we did enjoy our meal. The food wasn't half-bad.


We emerged from said restaurant at peace with the world due to our comfortably full stomachs. There was a surprisingly large number of people strolling about at 12 am so we decided to join them.


We ended up in a really large square with a church we were going to visit again in the morning. We also ended up terribly lost. Venice makes me feel like a test hamster in a maze.


We did eventually end up in our beautiful tucked-away-in-that-itty-bitty-corner hotel for some much-needed shuteye.


I wish I could remember my breakfast's name but all I recall is that it started with arrio and sounded really Italian-ish. I console myself that it is perfectly natural to forget a meal's name more than a month after I've eaten it. This is another sign that my mind isn't going anywhere just yet.

Breakfast was good though. The vegetables protruding from it were lightly grilled and fit each other quite well. It was a bit sour, sweet, salty, and bitter depending on the vegetable I happened to stick between my jaws. Extremely flavorful and highly satisfying.

We did a little shopping the next day. The displays were very pretty, and my sister and I needed to buy a few trinkets for friends back home.


Who has the patience to arrange all these little beings in said arrangement? I don't.


The pigeons of Venice were very much like their other European counterparts. They hopped about with their vapid stares in hopes of receiving peanuts for their trouble.


The pigeons were occasionally disturbing though.


Their large numbers could mean the conquest of Venice! If they actually had plans, that is. Their primary aim in life seems to be the conquest of peanuts and other tidbits. They seem to like peanuts but are obviously not very picky.

We went on to the Piazza San Marco or St. Mark's Square. This was the square we ended up in the night before.


And why wouldn't they? Especially with buildings like the one below to see.


I wish I had more pictures of the interior but photos weren't allowed. I guess it's a church, after all. How could anyone be reflective with the incessant clicks of camera shutters in the background?

It was beautiful though. Think mosaic floor patterns of different colors and intricate ceilings. You can also think of St. Mark's bones ensconced behind the table for the Mass. I know people consider his body holy and everything, but wouldn't it be creepy to stare at it during the whole service?

To each his own.


Did I mention we were following a tour? Hearing about all the carvings and historical whatnot was pretty cool.

The tour continued to various smaller squares and churches. We got to hear about how people lived in this city (Where do they get water? How about the marketing?) with some cute little folk tales about generals, Casanova, and Marco Polo's Chinese wife to spice things up.




I can understand why so many sketches and paintings of buildings keep popping up in Europe. When you're surrounded by them and have a remotely creative bone in your body, you just can't resist imitating them on paper. I drew some sketches myself.


Venice was pretty romantic. I'm not getting all mushy here; it seemed just the setting for lovey-dovey movies. A lot of couples seemed to think so; I passed quite a few walking around in their respective dream worlds. Some pairs seemed right out of the movies; I remember a teary-eyed couple shouting at each other in impassioned Italian. In front of the train station, if you can believe it.

And I thought all those emotional confrontation scenes in movies didn't resemble reality.

Of course, all beautiful things come to an end and our Venetian excursion was one of them.



What can I say? It was lovely.

Oswegan described Europe as a photographer's candy store. And I totally agree; I had my camera looped about my wrist most of the time I was there. There were too many shots I could miss.

This is my roundabout way of apologizing for the large number of photos in this post. Does the apology make you feel more goodhearted towards me and the rest of the photo-chasing generation? Will you forgive me for how long it'll take to scroll down if you see nice pictures?


I hope so.

We arrived in Venice about 9 or 10 in the evening. Tired? Extremely. Plans to immediately fall asleep at our beautiful tucked-away-in-that-itty-bitty-corner hotel? Absolutely not. When you're in a new place with so much to see, who wants to sleep?

Not to mention we hadn't even had dinner yet.


We stopped at a little restaurant a few bridges away from our hotel. It had photos of celebrities splashed all over the walls, and a small TV that showed us what the rest of the world was doing. We didn't watch much TV though; we watched our food.


OK, so Aglio Olio's a pretty simple pasta dish that even I could make in my kitchen. It's still my favorite, along with great vegetable soup.

I say great because that's what it was. The vegetables were wonderfully soft and chewy while the broth was delicious.


Silly captions aside, we did enjoy our meal. The food wasn't half-bad.


We emerged from said restaurant at peace with the world due to our comfortably full stomachs. There was a surprisingly large number of people strolling about at 12 am so we decided to join them.


We ended up in a really large square with a church we were going to visit again in the morning. We also ended up terribly lost. Venice makes me feel like a test hamster in a maze.


We did eventually end up in our beautiful tucked-away-in-that-itty-bitty-corner hotel for some much-needed shuteye.


I wish I could remember my breakfast's name but all I recall is that it started with arrio and sounded really Italian-ish. I console myself that it is perfectly natural to forget a meal's name more than a month after I've eaten it. This is another sign that my mind isn't going anywhere just yet.

Breakfast was good though. The vegetables protruding from it were lightly grilled and fit each other quite well. It was a bit sour, sweet, salty, and bitter depending on the vegetable I happened to stick between my jaws. Extremely flavorful and highly satisfying.

We did a little shopping the next day. The displays were very pretty, and my sister and I needed to buy a few trinkets for friends back home.


Who has the patience to arrange all these little beings in said arrangement? I don't.


The pigeons of Venice were very much like their other European counterparts. They hopped about with their vapid stares in hopes of receiving peanuts for their trouble.


The pigeons were occasionally disturbing though.


Their large numbers could mean the conquest of Venice! If they actually had plans, that is. Their primary aim in life seems to be the conquest of peanuts and other tidbits. They seem to like peanuts but are obviously not very picky.

We went on to the Piazza San Marco or St. Mark's Square. This was the square we ended up in the night before.


And why wouldn't they? Especially with buildings like the one below to see.


I wish I had more pictures of the interior but photos weren't allowed. I guess it's a church, after all. How could anyone be reflective with the incessant clicks of camera shutters in the background?

It was beautiful though. Think mosaic floor patterns of different colors and intricate ceilings. You can also think of St. Mark's bones ensconced behind the table for the Mass. I know people consider his body holy and everything, but wouldn't it be creepy to stare at it during the whole service?

To each his own.


Did I mention we were following a tour? Hearing about all the carvings and historical whatnot was pretty cool.

The tour continued to various smaller squares and churches. We got to hear about how people lived in this city (Where do they get water? How about the marketing?) with some cute little folk tales about generals, Casanova, and Marco Polo's Chinese wife to spice things up.




I can understand why so many sketches and paintings of buildings keep popping up in Europe. When you're surrounded by them and have a remotely creative bone in your body, you just can't resist imitating them on paper. I drew some sketches myself.


Venice was pretty romantic. I'm not getting all mushy here; it seemed just the setting for lovey-dovey movies. A lot of couples seemed to think so; I passed quite a few walking around in their respective dream worlds. Some pairs seemed right out of the movies; I remember a teary-eyed couple shouting at each other in impassioned Italian. In front of the train station, if you can believe it.

And I thought all those emotional confrontation scenes in movies didn't resemble reality.

Of course, all beautiful things come to an end and our Venetian excursion was one of them.



What can I say? It was lovely.