“Oh man, it’s a pigeon fight!” Sennen yelled as Ailyn squealed. “Oh no, now it’s a pigeon-seagull fight! Oh, Daddy, watch out! Now there’s a dog in the mix! Here it comes!”
Apparently someone’s dropped piece of pastry set off a multi-species chain-reaction on the Campiano del Boter in our local Canneregio district. I really wasn’t concerned about a few flapping pigeons, but I agreed with Sennen that once a small dog entered the fray – and the birds weren’t backing down, things could get ugly. We got out of there and I never saw who prevailed.
It was a marker of a day that had many funny moments, lots of little ups and downs and a LOT of walking.
The day began with few plans, but two goals:
- Drop our clothes at the closest full-service laundry.
- Pick-up a panettone from the small, almost hidden bakery in a nearby narrow street at which people line up – mostly to get panettone’s which they have stacked on shelves from pre-orders
- Explore the Canneregio more fully
We succeeded at the second two, but only the third went without a hitch (other than the interspecies brawl).
After schlepping our laundry in a wheeling duffel the kids pulled and a plastic trash bag I carried under one arm two and a half canals over, it turned out Saturday is the one day a week the laundry service was closed. I had wrongly assumed it would be Sunday and was trying to get our laundry in today. Perhaps Jewish owners?
The kids took turns pulling the duffel which I had assumed would make things easier – but between the bridge stairs and the fact they both have keeping it stable on uneven surfaces – such as cobblestone streets – they were super annoyed. For the sake of sanity, carried the duffel over bridges on the way home.
On the return, the line for the bakery was still long. Sennen was set on this panettone – because it had to be great to get such a line, especially in a location that looked like a child in a Dickens story could be abducted. However, under the safe watch of the locals, Ailyn and I left Sennen in line armed with 50 euros cash and one of my credit cards (in case they wouldn’t make change, which happened last time we visited that bakery). We dropped off the laundry and returned to the bakery to find Sennen just inside the door, next to be served. He was doing great dealing with the bakery lady when she gave him the bad news that all the panettones on the shelves were pre-purchased and therefore, the inventory was much lower than it appeared. The delicious looking, huge ones containing what I presume to be almonds were therefore out of stock. Sennen settled for one the lady said was available and since it cost 30 euros, she was willing to give him change for his 50 note.
We took home the prize panettone to cut it open and taste. The verdict – it was very fresh, very tasty – but not amazing. As Ailyn said, it tasted like challah – good challah – but with candied oranges in addition to raisins. Sennen immediately sang the panettone’s praises, but Ailyn felt it was rather average because anyone who has had challah knows it’s just challah and why would anyone pay 30 euros for challah? I introduced the idea that perhaps, if challah wasn’t something you’re familiar with and have regularly, you would find it especially tasty and delicious – and therefore, this panettone – dressed up challah though it may be – is still an amazing treat for non-Jews in Italy. She could accept that premise, but the fact remained the panettone was challah and she wasn’t going to get too excited about it.
Once the panettone was put to rest, we headed back to the heart of the Canneregio to explore all the parts we hadn’t yet seen – which was most of it. We found a nice little spot for lunch with paninis and focaccia pizzas. We walked to one bridge, then turned around to explore a narrow path heading in the opposite direction. Sennen had thought because the path was narrow, it might not lead anywhere interesting. Only it turned out not only to lead to a nice part of the Canneregio where the path widened after a bridge, but a long, winding Christmas market that went almost down to the Rialto Bridge.
One of the highlights of France 2023 were the Christmas markets and most specifically, the kids loved the Christmas market in the heart of Cannes. Last night over dinner they discussed how sad they were we hadn’t yet found one. I found little information online suggesting Venice even had a Christmas market. But there it was – with clothing, crafts, gourmet items, hot snacks and other odds and ends including hot mulled wine, which our former au pair, Alex had told the kids was his favorite thing about Christmas markets in Italy. So, they perused, made purchases and at a few points snacked on things such as hot saffron arancini and some odd gingerbread-like cookies. Most importantly, I bought a cup of hot mulled wine and gave them each a few sips. Unsurprisingly, Ailyn loved it and Sennen found it okay – except he liked that it didn’t burn the back of his throat like regular wine does (possibly because the alcohol was likely cooked out).
Sennen also bought a block of pecorino vacuum sealed in plastic he hopes to bring home to the United States so he and Alex can make their own carbonara. We’ll see how this goes….
After walking the length of the Christmas market – and back – Ailyn had her nails done – one of her personal goals for the trip, especially since she got a manicure in Cannes. While the Russian aesthetician worked on Ailyn, Sennen and I got decaf cappuccinos at the nearby cafe and discussed the foreign workers, aging populations, declining birth rates and the 2015 mass migration from the Arab Spring. Venice is full of foreign workers and notably a large Bangladeshi contingent who seem to have a lot of customer-facing roles because they have strong English. I’ll leave the larger issue of European and Italian immigration for another time, but needless to say, you can’t be a tourist in Venice without noticing that most of the people taking your orders, busing your tables, doing your nails or otherwise providing customer service are largely not Italian. In fact, two days ago we even had a Gay-Kurdish-Turkish server at the local gelateria and I can’t even begin to imagine what that guy’s life must involve.
When we picked Ailyn up from her manicure, she was neither happy or unhappy with it. The aesthetician made it seem like she knew how to do gel extensions, but she didn’t. Her polish job is, according to Ailyn, imperfect. However, they nail shape, color and overall style seems to meet Ailyn’s expectations – and I honestly didn’t know they didn’t have gel extensions they seem so long to me. That pleased her, though I think she now has low hopes for Italy as a manicure country – which may or may not be a fair assessment.
Either way, we walked the opposite way through the Canneregio, over a couple of canals and explored even more cute shops and paths including a chocolatier with the brilliance to have a giant chocolate fountain on display in their window – with the scent wafting out the door. Everyone wandered in and my kids were no exception. The free samples being passed out inside kept the party going as it seemed most people who crossed the threshold walked out with something. For us it was a bar of very dark chocolate as a gift for Alex and a shaker of pecorino and truffle dust Sennen hopes to cook with at home.
We walked and shopped our way to the train station along the Grand Canal before we called it quits and began to make our way home. Over the course of all this time, both kids made several purchases with their “shopping spree” money – Ailyn reaching a balance of 100 euros remaining from her original 200. Therefore, she has sworn off further shopping as she wants no less than half her money for Rome. Today’s earrings and ring along with yesterday’s purse and sweatshirt will have to do for Venice.
Between the snacking throughout the afternoon and the almost 12,000 steps, the kids opted for a quiet night in watching movies. We bought a light dinner and some dessert items from a culinary shop whose window was undeniable and decided that would cap off a day of tasting.
Despite the challenging start and the disappointing manicure, today may have been the most ideal for the kids. Snacking, walking and Christmas markets are their thing. Pigeon-seagull-dog fights are fun. And a surprising number of women wearing real fur coats was good fodder for conversation. Apparently, in Venice, fur is not dead. But then again, veal is also acceptable. It seems we’re in the land the 90’s forgot.
What comes next? We have no more tourist sites to which we’re committed. Instead, we’re going to explore a different district of the city each day. Sennen has been reviewing the Lonely Planet to see which comes next. Probably either the Castello or the Dorsoduro. We’re saving San Polo for Monday or Tuesday when the Rialto Market located therein will be fully operational, which it is not on Sundays.
We certainly did not get as deep or learn as much as yesterday – but that can’t be how every day goes. I’ve come to conclude when we travel, the kids learn in some way or another whatever we’re doing – even if it doesn’t seem like it in the moment. Often it’s only later, when they ask questions, share thoughts or even reminisce after months and years that I learn what they picked up and how it has shaped their thinking. Ailyn could become an alcoholic because of the hot mulled wine or Sennen might host high-stakes pigeon-seagull fights in the back alleys of Long Beach. Anything is possible.
The main thing is the day ended with “Daddy, I love the Canneregio! I didn’t think I’d like it so much, but we have a great neighborhood!”
