Veni, Vidi, Venezia

Of course it's insane, but the idea has been brewing in my mind for weeks, so I decide to "seize the day" and see if I can catch a train to Venice, since the girls are completely occupied for the day and have no need of the extraneous parents like me (I try to enlist a couple of the other moms, but apparently, no one is as crazy as I am). At the train station, I'm the first in the queue; I buy a round trip ticket (surprisingly inexpensive) and by 7am I'm southward bound on the express line to Venice.

Riding trains through Europe is still one of my favorite pastimes. Watching the countryside hurtle by is such a visual treat, and I love the rhythmic rocking of the train on the tracks. Gentle, rounded hills give way to ever-widening valleys sprinkled with unspoiled villages. Suddenly I see them -- the craggy, mile-high Alps which separate Austria from Italy. At 11am, we cross the border and make our first stop at Tarvisio. The differences are instantly noticeable; where else in the world but Italy would the young man serving coffee on a train be dressed in Dolce & Gabbana?

The world flattens out again, and by lunchtime we're in Venice. When I come out of Santa Lucia station and cross the bridge, the hordes of tourists turn right, so I, of course, turn left. In five minutes, I am completely lost. This is how I love to travel, sinking into the cultural quicksand and then digging my way out (maps are strictly forbidden outside hotel rooms). Being mistaken for a local anywhere I go is my personal badge of honor, and this happens almost immediately here (much to my surprise). I am in a state of bliss.

I weave my way through deserted streets along empty canals, slowly making my roundabout way to the Piazza San Marco, which, sadly, is now flooded with cruise-ship-cheesy-souvenir-buying tourists. I feel claustrophobic, so I immediately head over the Grand Canal and pay visits to the Galleria dell'Accademia, where I see some wildly avant-garde works of 15th Century artist Giovanni Bellini) and the Collection Peggy Guggenheim, which houses one of my favorite paintings -- The Empire of Light by Magritte.

Once I've done that, my feet are completely blistered. I stop to buy some little glass pendants (for the girls back in Graz) in a tiny backwater shop, far less expensive than the tourist traps on the Ponte di Rialto. I ask the shop owner to recommend a place for dinner that is equally off the beaten path, and she suggests a place where "the Venetians love to dine."

After getting utterly lost again (still no map), I find the osteria she has named around 9pm. I don't have to catch my night train until 1am or so and I'm wondering how to kill time between then and now, but as it turns out, that's not a problem. I find myself the only non-Italian speaker in this 14-table restaurant, and everyone is unbelievably charming. The evening stretches itself out, and suddenly it's after midnight. I run to catch a vaporreto on the Grand Canal, and after an hour's struggle with the snooty Italian Night Car ladies, I finally make it to my sleeping berth. I'm exhausted from the joy and excitement of a perfect day and I can assure you, my dreams are sweet.