Unfortunately, sleeper trains are only marginally for sleeping.
We had a gin and tonic on the train, and then got the guard to put the beds down. There were complementary hand-towels and waters (sparkling and still), a small basin and mirror, and there was breakfast provided. Those were the good bits.
There were two toilets for the carriage. One of them was out of order, and in the other a guy had obviously overestimated his ability to aim in a swaying carriage. (I did my best to put down a protective layer of paper towels when I went in the first time and noticed, but I wasn’t prepared to try and clean it up properly.)
It was warm, noisy, and swaying. It kept sounding like people were knocking, when they were just steadying themselves around a corner. There wasn’t really enough room to do stuff, and we had to use the drinking water to brush our teeth. Our breakfast choices were only incompletely fufilled, and I only really got the hang of the lock towards the end.
But then we arrived early in the morning in Venice, and we were unexpectedly able to check into our little temporary apartment early, and have a shower. (Unfortunately, the hot water didn’t appear to be on, and we were unable to get it to work or contact the owner during our stay.)
We decided to head out to Murano, since the ferry stop near our house headed out that way. (We passed the island cemetery, which I would definitely visit if I got another chance.) We managed to be directed away from the main drag, which meant we got to see a pretty impressive example of glass-blowing (of a pitcher and a horse), and then wandered along to look at a few more shops off the beaten track, and buy one or two things. And then one or two things more. And then another thing. (I managed to not follow in my brother’s footsteps and buy a Venetian mask, but only because I could not for the life of me imagine how to transport it back.)
And then we got lost on the back streets, and eventually found our way onto the main strip. It was interesting to see many of the things we’d already seen, but with a bit of a mark-up – there seemed to be a general agreement on the price of some things between the various stores. We wandered for a bit, and then caught the ferry back to the more reasonable food prices of the mainland (which ended up being a couple of margharita pizzas between us).
We then caught the ferry to Piazza San Marco. We arrived just too late to visit the Basilica, but even the outside was impressive, with mosaics and various marbles. (Margie has a picture of me peering through the bars to see the gorgeous ceilings.) We had walked past the Bridge of Sighs to get there, but it was impossible to take a good picture, since it was completely surrounded by advertising; the Doge’s palace was impressive, though.
Also impressive were the tourists and the hawkers. On the main streets, it was always crowded.
We went back to our apartment with grand plans to visit the Basilica the next day before we left; unfortunately, fate intervened. We didn’t have wi-fi access, and had minimal cellphone coverage (we blew through most of Margie’s cellphone credit with a call to NZ sorting things out), but we thought we could manage it – C would write something for the funeral that night, we’d drop off our bags at the railway station in the lockers we’d seen the previous day, we’d post the email from an internet café, and then dash off to the church and back again in time for our train.
Writing the eulogy was hard for Celeste, but she got it done, and we thought that the only hurdle we’d face in the morning would be the cold showers. But then we caught the ferry in a non-optimal direction; and the lockers were broken, so we had to stand in line to have our bags taken away by a couple of really bored guys; then our lead on free wi-fi went nowhere, and there was nary an internet café to be found (I ended up asking at the reception of some random hotel, and the guy very kindly pointed us in the right direction); then an attempt to buy stamps discovered the slowest post-office in the universe (and apparently it costs 2 euro to send a postcard from Venice). By this time it was looking like we’d only be able to run there, run through, and run back, and the idea of a four-hour train ride in sweaty clothes didn’t appeal; so we opted for strolling back the way we came, having one last good look at all the masks, glass, and nick-knacks. Having learnt our lesson, we bought food supplies for the train.
Then we got back to the station, and there was an enormous line for left luggage. Like, thirty or forty people. We only had 20 minutes until departure at that point, and it was unclear whether we’d reach the front of the line by that time. Luckily, it turned out that dropping off and picking up were two different lines, and we were able to grab our bags, head out, and then drop into our seats for a nice, long, uncomplicated train ride.
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