Venice ...

... day 2.
Today began with breakfast on our hotel's terrace on the Grand Canal where I had the most perfect perving position, watching beautiful, shirtless, young Gondoliers arriving for work and setting up their boats before putting on their uniform striped shirts. Goodness me but that rowing produces some magnificent abs and arms. *sigh*
I had a tour booked. A skip-the-queue for the Basilica San Marco tour, followed by a quick walk around a couple of the less crowded campos and ended at the Rialto Bridge.
When we arrived at the Basilica I was heartily congratulated by Mr Brown for the forward thinking because the queue O MY! It was miles and miles long, in the baking hot sun, I’d never have stood in it, not in a million years.
Last time I was here you were allowed to take photographs in the church, not now, which is a shame because it is astoundingly beautiful, breathtaking, even Mr Brown was impressed!
We then had a little wander through the Rialto Markets, I cannot get over how cheap and wonderful the fresh produce is here. Australians really are ripped off on that score, or perhaps the Australian dollar just makes it seem so atm. A little behind the markets we found a lovely hole in the wall restaurant where we ate beautiful fresh seafood including sea bass with potatoes and olives. The waiter was perfectly charming and chatty, not at all what the “reviews” of Venice I’d read on the interweb had led me to expect. If it wasn’t for the vile summer sweaty heat, I’d be totally in love with this place!
The afternoon had us on board a water taxi (beautiful wooden boat it was too, quite the elegant bit of transport stylishness) for a water tour of some of the residential areas of Venice and, of course, the Grand Canal. What a magnificent piece of watery real estate that is. Mr Brown & I even picked out the little palazzo we thought we could bear to live in. Only a tiny one but it comes complete with a bijoux garden for the girls to play in.
On getting back to our room for a quick freshen up (my GOODNESS but it is hot, humid and nastily sweaty outside) and before we committed the ultimate tourist sin, a Bellini at Harry’s Bar, Mr Brown got a text message. The boat container, it was not loaded and taken away this morning as arranged. The crane required to lift it onto the truck did not turn up. And so, here I sit, while Mr Brown is downstairs attempting to use the hotel’s one “Internet point” and his blackberry, to arrange the homeward journey of a container load of Flying Dutchmen.
EDITED TO ADD – Well, Harry’s was full as a goog, so we stepped over the alley and went to the bar at our hotel. Then, heavily influenced by a seemingly innocuous drink called a “gin fizz” we decided that moving from the bar area to the restaurant area was a good idea. Fabulous seafood was had, with the entertaining addition of waiter theatre. I’ve no idea what it cost, a fortune probably, but we’ll find out I guess, when we leave, as we came over all “charge it to our room” on the night.