While studying abroad in Italy we were given a full week off for fall break, and since this was my first time in Europe I had to spend it in Italy. The land of pastas that would make my heart melt, gelato that comes in more flavors it would take hours to fully appreciate each type and of course, the rich artistic history of genuises like Caravaggio and Michaelangelo... Yes, Italy was the ideal getaway from the UK with its notoriously sub-par food and bleary weather. I booked my flight and the trains to visit Florence for 4 nights and Venice for 2 nights, then sat through the last few classes boiling over with anticipation.
Italy was everything I had been hoping for. Vespas and interlocked lovers covering every surface, raunchy men calling out to us when they pegged us for American and oh my god, the FOOD! I had pasta as often as possible (even more often than I do normally)!! Lasagna covered in massive amounts of gooey cheeses and meat sauce, pastas I could not pronounce, pizza topped with the freshest ingredients, cannoli bursting with thick sweet cream and dusted with powdered sugar... it was all a dream! Have I mentioned the gelato? In 6 days I managed to try 26 flavors and several were repeated. Every day I would wake up, see fabulous monuments and artworks then eat until I had to go deeply into a food coma. Italy was amazing.
So, the days full of pasta and art go by and too soon after I arrived it was time to leave. I was in Venice for a hot second, but fall break was ending and I couldn't afford to not show up to class the next week. At that point I had met up with Anna, Tara, Leah, Becca and Casey. We had all decided to save the Basilica di San Marco for my last day there and I would just carry my overstuffed (over-souvenired) backpack to the Piazza di San Marco then huff it over to the bus station which would take me off the peninsula to the airport.
It is important to mention that Italian workers looove to go on strike and this Friday was no exception. All transportation was on strike; boats, trains, planes, EVERYTHING. Usually when you think of Venice you picture a beautiful (but smelly) city of canals covered in vaporetti (water-taxis), but because of the transportation strike everything was incredibly clogged up with crowds waiting for the one vaporetto to go through every 50 minutes rather than the usual ten minutes. It was not worth the wait, considering the peninsula at its greatest width is less than 4 miles.
So, after the Basilica I had to rush over on foot to the bus station which was probably going to be closed because of the strike. I don't speak Italian, and the few phrases I learned to ask for directions got me minute long responses that I could not understand verbally (the gesticulations helped quite a bit).. it was a nightmare! I had to travel through Venice by myself, which is difficult. Venice does not have nicely paved streets and organized blocks marked with street signs, it is a wonderful spattering of small pathways between old buildings small ornate bridges and signs pointing to landmarks or famous museums. Navigating with a map is nearly impossible because everything is so tightly packed that finding accurate locations with a map that is not really detailed enough is quite difficult.
I had to walk 2.4 miles across Venice with a huge backpack, no knowledge of the area or a map. It takes half an hour if you know where you're going, but it took me about an hour and a half. By the time I got to where I could see the bus station in the distance, I decided to stop. I didn't eat breakfast that morning, I was exhausted and ready to chow on some fresh pizza. So, I started looking for a nice cafe in the area being careful not to stray too far from my destination, and then it happens.
My week full of pasta, pizza, and gelato catches up with me. I have that moment of realization. I was going to have a monstrous bowel movement and there is no time to waste finding a public restroom. Just ahead of me is a fancier cafe with beautifully decorated pastries and carefully made sandwiches in a glass case. I quickly dash inside say my "buongiornos!" and immediately ask in bad Italian, "Dove il banyo?!?!" I must have looked like I meant business (of sorts) because the woman behind the glass case dramatically pointed towards the far corner of the cafe.
There I was, just an American girl suffering from poop attack and I had found a toilet! It was perfect, until I opened the solid bathroom door. This was not a bathroom, this was the chokey from Matilda with a toilet in it. To call it small would be a generous description, but with a week full of Italian cuisine coursing through I could hardly leave and find a better option. So it goes (and oh boy, how it went).
Ready to start chowing down on some lovely sandwich and perhaps an espresso, I exit the bathroom to see this stout Mrs. Weasley type woman waiting patiently outside. I think to myself, "Woman, I am so sorry for what I have just done. Please just be washing your hands so you don't have to suffer for a long time." She entered the chokey (quite literally at this point, it was horrible), and instead of staying inside she immediately leaves and shouts, "No, no no! Poo-poo! Poo-poo!" Which prompts the woman behind the glass case to take out a giant can of air freshener and start spraying the entire cafe and then fill up the petit bathroom.
Never having experienced something quite so embarrassing, I left the cafe completely red in the face before they turned their backs on the damage.
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