After the summer romance in Austria, I went to Italy while the weather was still warm. Like the rest of my travel, I didn't have a plan when I arrived. My night bus got to the train station closest to Venice around 8am. I stepped off the bus and checked my map. I was twenty-five minutes away by car. While I tried to decipher the local bus system, I grabbed a beer and sat on the steps outside the station.
A few minutes later I was approached by two girls. When I'm in a place where I don't look like everyone else, I always assume that someone approaching me is going to ask for money. That has been the case every fucking time. I'm used to it. I don't like it. They sat down next to me. I pulled my bag closer. One started posing with me and taking selfies. I put my hand in the pocket with my phone. This seemed way too weird to not be some kind of play. I asked her what she was doing. She asked me where I was from. After I said, "America," her eyes lit up. Just like they do with every other scam artist that asks. I wasn't expecting a story about being a Nigerian refugee and living in a camp. I was intrigued. I don't know what I expected a Nigerian refugee to look like. It wasn't a cute girl with a septum piercing, dressed like she was in an LMFAO video.
She continued to pose with me and take pictures while explaining life in a refugee camp. Of course, life in a camp is boring. There isn't much privacy, it was loud, etc. Her biggest complaint was the food. She missed whatever African food consists of. The Italian government has been providing pasta and cheese. Without a segue, she asks if she can kiss me for the pictures. Having someone complain about cheese and kiss you at the same time is weird. I was still maintaining situational awareness with my stuff, but I was going with it. When a pretty girl asks to kiss you, you don't turn her down. The friend was looking over at us like she just caught her parents fucking. I guess that was a good sign it wasn't a play. Kissing-girl handed her phone to the friend to add me on facebook while we continued to make out. I ask if she's kissing me for pictures to make a guy jealous. She claims she just found me attractive. A short time later, she says she has to go and promises to message me once she has wifi. I was confused by the experience, and what it meant to be a refugee.
I didn't have much time to dwell on it. I had to catch a bus to Venice proper. The scene at the bus stop played out like Morocco. As the bus approaches, everyone presses together in one angry cluster fuck. The doors open. The hive mind at the bus stop seems to be screaming, "FUCK EVERYONE I WILL DIE IF I DON'T GET ON." I like it when it's socially acceptable to push everyone around me. Especially these tiny Italian people. I tighten my backpack straps, bend my knees, and lean forward. I push forward with my elbows out and muscle my way into a seat. Old people, invalids, and preggos be damned. It's the little victories.
As the bus approaches, I start mentally reviewing what I've heard about Venice. The first thing that comes to mind is the smell. It's a 90+ degree day. I brace myself for the worst. I step off the bus and it just smells like a freshwater lake. Meh. Not so bad. My normal approach to a city is to start walking and see what happens. I'm surrounded by love drunk couples. Swimming in exhausted families. Laughing my ass off at the fat people not counting on having to walk so much. The schadenfreude is strong from watching fatties struggle over the arched bridges above the canals.
Being a single dude in Venice is kind of like being a single dude at a bridal show. There are pretty things to look at, but It doesn't make much sense. I felt out of place. I still enjoyed the shit out of the beautiful architecture, the old as fuck cathedral, and imagining Indiana Jones swimming through hidden catacombs beneath my feet. I ate gelato and pizza. I walked around the city for about seven hours before I was ready to leave. I would enjoy this place more at a later date with a girl on my arm. I decided to save the rest of the city for that hypothetical situation. I got back to the bus stop, rode to the train station, and hopped on an empire builder toward Bologna. I wanted me some fucking spaghetti bolognese.