Leaving Venezia

Saturday morning, the day we leave Venezia and begin the trip home to Portland. It seems strange to be leaving after all the planning and anticipation--if I remember correctly we started 8 months ago. I've spent enough time here that I begin to appreciate what it might be like to be a Venetian, but I guess I'll never really know. I suspect it's difficult to live in a place that seems so personal with its tiny calli that wind across the islands, yet is so astounding in its art, history, and beauty that it must be shared with the millions who come to visit. To see streets cleaned daily, only to need cleaning again tomorrow. To watch the accidental (for the most part these days) jetsam and flotsam float out to wherever it floats to on the tide. To endure the traffic that clogs streets as you try to make your way from work to home, or to the store, on Friday afternoon or Saturday morning. To awake on Saturday, or any morning, to the sound of luggage on wheels passing one's bedroom window, as I just heard. The changing of the transient population begins anew, and today, as two weeks ago on Fondamenta Gherardini, we are part of the change.