Apparently, there was some sort of mix up in the mailroom, and Venice didn't get the high season/low season memo. I had heard that you couldn't throw a rock in Venice without hitting a tourist, but I hoped that in early April I could squeeze by on my budget without a reservation. I found out the hard way that it was not possible. Hard, as in concrete for my pillow, the stars as my roof, good old-fashioned sleeping on the street.

My biggest mistake was starting the accommodation search too late. Partially it wasn't my fault because the plane was late, but I should have planned better. I should have scheduled a flight to arrive in Venice in the morning. As it turned out, I didn't start looking for a place to hang my proverbial (and actual) hat until 6p.m. That was later than I usually like to start looking even in a less popular city, but I was banking on off-season vacancies to pull me through. It turns out Venice has a very short off-season, and it doesn't include April. Standing in front of the main train station in Venice, with my large pack stowed in luggage lockers and my guidebook in hand, I was a little discouraged to see rain. At least maybe the drizzle would keep other tourists away, I thought.

The main problem with cheap accommodations listed in Venice is that half of it seems to be in convents, for women only. I unfortunately have some major shortcomings in that department. I went from place to place and got the same "sorry we're full" discouraging shake of the head. The search got me farther from finding a room, and closer to pneumonia.

After I had struck out at every place I knew about, I bumped into four other backpackers whom I had spoken with at the train station. I tagged along with them in search of another hostel. It took us way too long to find the place because we were doing circles around it for an hour. That didn't help my chances of a bed for the night. Finally we found the small pension and I was relieved when a friendly little old lady told us good news, she had rooms. She showed the five of us to our beds, splitting us up in several different rooms. I tagged along at the back letting the others go first, because I had followed them there. Not good etiquette to steal another backpackers bed. When we got to my turn there was some confusion as to where to put me. The women and I had a brief standoff, an English-Italian dictionary the wall between us, before an American girl in the hall who spoke some Italian jumped to the rescue. What my four "guides" failed to mention is that they were a part of a larger group, all studying in Siena. Their group was smart and had reserved ahead. They all had beds, and were promptly shown to them, rightfully so. I was given a sympathetic shrug and shown the door, like the street vagrant I was slowly turning into. Unfortunately, you can't use sympathetic shrugs as shelter, so I was out searching again.

The night was darker, colder, and still raining. I certainly didn't feel the romance that was supposed to be oozing from Venice's cracks. Something was definitely oozing, but not romance. I went back to the train station to check on catching a night train somewhere else, somewhere with a bed. The problem turned out to be that even if I decided to scrap Venice, any of the places I wanted to go were within a few hours away. I didn't see the point of catching the last train out just to arrive somewhere else a few hours later. I would still most likely be without a bed, just in a different city. So I made the decision to brave the streets for the night. No one ever said being brave meant being smart though.

I wandered a long time through the cobbled calli of Venice, along dark canals where the sound of rain on water reverberated between the narrow buildings. My site seeing lacked the excited luster that probably goes along with most people's view of Venice. The black rain and my own giant cloud of gloom weighed on me. What am I doing half way around the world, in a strange city, where I know no one, wandering the streets in the middle of the night? I must be insane. I was definitely sleepy. In the course of my wandering, I finally found a place that looked safe enough to lie down, and it was sheltered from the rain. It was not comfortable but worked well enough, curled into a concrete alcove, until one of the local resident's dogs decided he wanted a midnight stroll. I got shoed off from what I then realized was somebody's doorstep.

Next I tried a few hotels, getting a little tired and desperate. Maybe they had something in my price range. Besides, it was getting colder outside. Nobody had any rooms left. Not suprisingly I guess, since it was after midnight. I finally found a place with a single room still available. "Good news for you my friend, special price, only 170,000 lire (100 bucks)." I was glad to see my symbolic gesture of walking through his door late at night and having a wallet had made us friends, but I was not going to pay that kind of money. That was four days budget. I wasn't going to blow my budget so early in the trip. No, it was back out to the streets for me.

Throughout the course of the night I found two other places to lay my weary head. One was in an empty dark alley (far from charming) and one was on a crate overlooking one of the canals (possibly a little closer to charming). There is something very peaceful about the way a city without cars shuts down in the middle of the night. But no matter how peaceful, a wooden crate for a pillow isn't easy to sleep on. I had to move between places because cobblestone doesn't make a warm blanket. I had to walk to stay warm. When 6 a.m. hit, I was on the first train to Florence, and finally collapsed into a bed in Florence around noon. I wondered what Venice looked like in the daytime. Five months later I returned, reservations in hand, to explore in the sun.

I did like Venice that first time. It probably sounds like I didn't. Mostly however, I think I liked it in retrospect. While I wandered around the streets in the cold, and the dark, and the wet, I felt so sleepy that I hardly even realized how depressing the whole event was. Weeks later, I looked back and thought fondly of my adventure. I relished the story that Venice had given me. So while I would never plan to stay on the streets, I am glad that night took place. I have two bits of advice for visiting Venice. First, either book a reservation ahead of time, or only see Venice via day trips from cities like Verona or Padua. Second, if you do end up sleeping on the streets in Venice, I can recommend an almost-charming doorstep with a view of the canals.

Print this | Send this | Hits: 1924 |