|Dani & Me Outside Piccolo Mondo|
Within a matter of minutes of hearing the Italian men talking and cheering, Dani and I got into a discussion about language. I admit (although at first I denied it), Italian sounds very similar to Spanish. Dani was able to pick out verbs and phrases that she'd learned from her year playing basketball in Spain, making it possible to communicate with our company. I tried to contribute to the conversation by hearing one guy yell "ALLEZ" (Which in French means ‘go’), only to learn that he was calling to his friend "Alex" (who was probably very confused when I kept chanting his name thinking I was adding to the cheers for the competing soccer team). Oops. Innocent mistake. Note to self: Italian doesn't have much in common with French.
|San Marco Square @ Night|
Now guys, let me let you in on a little secret. If you don't know the words to a song - don't attempt to sing it. Better yet, if you don't know the words to a song, please don't think screeching nonsense five octaves above the lyrics will contribute to your 'game.' Jira, my dance partner for the evening, was actually a good dancer. Thanks to a friend from home who taught me the basics of salsa dancing, I was able to let Jira spin me and lead me to the music without falling, stepping on his feet, or biting his head (hey Al! ;)). Unfortunately for Jira, his screeching really took away from his dancing, and "Guacamole" was announced shortly before 2AM.
Dani and I said our goodbyes to our Italian friends and hopped on the Vaporetto heading back to San Marco Square. One of the things on our to-do list was to see the square late at night when all the day tourists were gone. When we came up to the square, and I triumphed over the death step (actually I sat on it like a 5 year old and scooted my butt down into the square),
|Happily Eating our Pizza|
No sooner did we say how clutch some Venetian pizza would be, than a guy carrying a slice walked by. We immediately engaged in conversation, leading us to meet my favorite Venetian of our trip. This guy (whose name we never learned) wanted nothing more than to show us where the pizza shop was. He enthusiastically talked with us as he walked us to the pizza shop, and once we found our way said a friendly 'goodbye' and returned to his friends. This hole-in-the-wall pizza place with a line out the door had THE BEST pizza. I don't know how many times in my life I'll be able to say I sat in San Marco Square eating a slice of delicious pizza at 2AM under a SuperMoon, but it happened once!
While we were eating, another Venetian man approached us, who had apparently just gotten off work at 2:30AM and was heading out for a drink. This Venetian was my least favorite on our trip, since after we said no - that we were done for the night and heading home - he continued to push, asking us for our numbers, if we would meet him tomorrow, etc., etc. After finally getting rid of him, we made our way back to our hostel, replayed some of the night, and again, hit our pillows exhausted.