not going to win the amazing race

For those of you out there who don’t know what the amazing race is, don’t worry about it; just don’t ask me to be on your team. I was really bad at navigating my way from London to my hostel in Venice. First of all I have too much stuff. I really thought I had done a good job packing until I had to carry it for three hours. I thought I had it I figured out how to get to where I was going, once I arrived in Venice. I mean I spent an afternoon at the apple store in London using there free internet, gathering all sorts of useful information, heck I even helped some tourists at the airport in Venice find the ticket counter. All of that hard work would have been great if I didn’t miss the bus from the airport cause I walked half a mile out of my way to what I thought was the bus stop. When I finally arrived at the water bus stop to take the boat into Venice, I missed all of my boats cause I kept asking Italians where to go and they all had great ideas that meant me walking back and forth between docks, effectively missing every boat. When the last boat left I broke down crying, (for only the second or third time that day) and sat down and said a prayer, thanking the universe for this excellent opportunity for faith. After my eyes had dried this friendly Sri Lankan man, who lives here in Venice now, took my bag (I know, I know, that’s how you get your stuff stolen but he didn’t seem as fast as me so I took the chance) carried it to the other dock, and then proceeded to take me on two boat transfers to make sure I arrived at the front door of my hostel safe. He did try to pet my hair on the way over, which I thought a bit forward until another Italian guy sat down next to me and started pet my hair. I thanked them both nicely and said “basta!” my new favorite word. The hostel was this huge building with giant doors and really small signs to direct you around once inside. I arrived at 1:15am (only three hours after my flight) and my entire room was asleep. Ten beds on a Saturday night asleep?? I thought this was very strange for a youth Hostel UNTILL I woke up at 6:00 to find a bunch of women in their 60’s running around getting ready. Then I went to the bathroom and someone had stolen all of the toilet seats. I mean really, how much can you even get for a dozen toilet seats? I was really excited about the free breakfast cause I missed dinner the night before. I had been dreaming of eggs and bacon and yummy croissants, instead I got a baguette and a cappuccino, which was really good for free coffee, but not quite what my stomach was hoping for. I then proceeded to go the total opposite direction of where I was supposed to meet my host for the next month. I had to take a boat back to my starting point and then I walked through the town up and down a million steps and a dozen little bridges with all my stuff. Yep, ahh ha, feels good, that’s right!! I finally got where I was supposed to be and met the loveliest girl named Elena who didn’t speak any English so we just smiled a lot. She took me to my Hosts house because he’s in San Francisco on holiday right now. His name is Pietro and he comes home tomorrow. I think we are going to get along swimmingly. His house is right on a canal and its full of South American artifacts. He is a surgeon for a living, and from the looks of things very well traveled. I can’t wait to meet him. He has a Mac too!