Venice

It’s the most beautiful city I’ve visited thus far - like walking into a postcard around every corner. The streets are a maze of narrow, cobblestone paths flanked by crumbling, antique buildings with balconies draped in flowers and shutters framing tall, arched windows. The canals are deep and wide with an endless stream of gondolas floating by in every direction, sending ripples down the placid, green water.


The pigeons are the most aggressive and fearless I’ve seen on my trip, enticed by tourists who buy bird seed from vendors and throw it on their children, laughing as they’re engulfed in a flurry of slate grey feathers and pointy beaks.


There are museums to tour and churches to visit but I’ve grown bored with the usual sightseeing charade and prefer to spend my time taking pictures of empty bridges and writing on a bench in the plaza as the old man to my left stares off into space and the birds peck at my feet.


I’ve been trying to imagine what it would be like to have each of you here, seeing this with me for the first time. What would you say as we stroll down dusty alleyways and eat ice cream cones next to the sea? Would you feel overwhelmed by all of the people and want to hide out in a café until the rush dies down? Or would you be flooded with adrenaline and nudge me to walk faster so that we might see a dozen sights before the sun disappears?

I suppose I can only base my new experiences on the ones that I already have and therefore a lot of my thoughts wander to home even when I’m exploring a new city. So even though I’m not homesick and I’m constantly meeting new people, the faces of those I left behind are still very much a part of my day.