A bad boat week

Sciopero.  Now there's an Italian word you should learn quickly. It means strike. The verb is scioperare- to strike.  And yes, this week in Venice there was yet another transportation strike.  Fortunately, most of the time the strikes are short in duration, this one was from 9:00 until 12:30.  The one we had about a week before that was a 24 hour strike, which was very unusual.  But this week, the strike just compounded my boat woes.

The whole week started out badly for me with the onset of a terrible cold (raffredore) on Sunday. By Monday morning I was in no shape to get up for my daily trek to FateBeneFratelli for therapy.  So I stayed in bed.  Tuesday morning I felt only slightly better, but missing therapy two days in a row was not on my agenda- until I looked out the window to check on the weather. Fog was predicted for Tuesday morning. This wasn't just fog, this was the worst fog I have ever seen in my life! I could not see out the window.  For certain, there would be no boats running this morning. I dragged myself back into bed, a little bit thankful for the double reason not be going to therapy. Now, mind you, at the end of therapy every day I am grateful that I went, because I feel so much better afterwards. But the actual process of doing it is sheer torture - the pain is unbelievable.  And the commute is no picnic either.

Wednesday morning I was feeling much better. Not over the cold, but was feeling better after Mike had made a trip to the local farmacia for me the day before. He came home with a bag of goodies- pills for a runny nose, lozenges for the sore throat, and syrup for the cough.  All worked wonders.  And the fog that was predicted for Wednesday again didn't materialize. I got up, got ready, and was out the door headed for the boat dock at Sant Andrea on time.  The minute I arrived at Sant Andrea, I knew I had a problem.  When there is no one else at the dock, it's a sure sign there are no boats running.  There was no fog, and no other signs posted indicating anything different happening this particular morning, but I had to trust my gut instinct. No boats were coming.  I walked to Piazzale Roma.  Just as I made the turn around the corner by the Coop, I had the answer to the mystery.  It wasn't just the 42 or 52 boats not running, there were NO boats. Aha-  a strike.  The electronic sign over the boat dock confirmed this.  The stike would last until 12:30.  Ok- I would  at least get home from therapy, if I could actually get there.

I considered walking the whole way. It's a long way, and my knee was not feeling happy at all. So, I used Plan B- hire a private water taxi. These guys must love strike days, cause the locals use the taxis when they otherwise would not.  10 minutes and 40 Euros later I was standing at the doorway of FateBeneFratelli.

Thursday was a nice day, and the boats ran on schedule. I was thanking the Boat Gods.

On Friday, I double checked the weather forecast. Fog was not predicted.  Good. I walked to the boat docks, and again, there was no one around. The dock was open, but there was a chain over the exitway leading to the boats, which was a bit unusual.  I sat for a few minutes, during which time just one other woman arrived. This was definitely unusual. At this hour of the morning there typically is a pretty good crowd waiting.  I threw in the towel and walked to Piazzale Roma. Sure enough, the # 52 was not running and the # 42 was leaving from Piazzale Roma.  I didn't see any explanation for why the schedule changes, but it didn't matter, all I needed to do was get to FateBeneFratelli.  The # 42 wasn't running on it's normal schedule either, apparently, as  I waited 30 minutes for the boat.  I started to get nervous that I wouldn't have enough time to make it to my therapy appointment.  Fortunately, the boat arrived.

As we rounded the corner onto the lagoon leaving the Cannaregio canal, I saw what the problem was. The fog out here on the lagoon was thick as thieves. You could not see in front of your face.  I couldn't even see the shore line and I don't think we were 100 feet away from it.  I wanted to be mad. My whole week was sent topsy turvy by the boats this week. But- I just couldn't find it in me to get mad. Instead I was mesmerized by the view. Venice is even more mysterious, more beautiful when it is veiled in fog.