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This was our first day in Venice.

Sis had a business trip in Europe so Sue and I(Chris) thought it would be great if we spend a few days in Venice together, taking in a bit of art at the Biennale.  The plan was to meet at the Milano Centrale train station and take the Frecciabianca express together to Venezia S. Lucia on the island.  We had done something similar before and it was pleasurable, traveling from Munich to Vienna on Railjet (click here to see that post).


Our previous trip from Munich to Vienna went flawlessly; we forgot that we were in Southern Europe. Sis’s train from Monte Carlo to Torino was delayed and delayed and delayed.  However, Sis said that it is possible that she’d be at the train station just in time.  At 1405, Sue and I found our seats and Sis’s reserved seat which was located just a few rows away was empty.  As the train departure time neared, I was hanging on to the train with one hand and leaned out to see if Sis was on the platform; with the other hand, I was pressing the phone to my ear trying to hear her over the noise of a very busy Italian train station. Her train had just arrived at the other end of the station and she was fighting through the crowds, the luggages, … but our carriage was at the head of the train. She saw, from the piattaforma, our train departing.  The only thing missing was a handkerchief as our train slowly pulled away.


Thanks to modern technology … we kept in touch. Sue and I arrived without complication two and a half hours later, met our Airbnb host, and checked-in as planned. Sis had more problems. She could not get on the next train because there were a lot of people who also missed their train.  She ended up taking a train that left Milano about four hours later.


After getting situated, Sue and I left the apartment to meet Sis at the nearest water bus (vaporetto) stop, the Rialto.  It was after dinner time and feeling a bit peckish, I wolfed down a few slices of convenience pizza. Eating the individual slices from a paper plate reminded me of New York.


At long last she emerged from the disembarking crowd. Sis had been on the road since 8 that morning. It was a very long day for her. We wanted to find a place to eat quickly but could not bear to go into the tourist traps that face the canal. We started heading towards the apartment, turned a few corners and came across this place – Bacaro Jazz – which happened to serve food.  A traditional Venetian wine bar is called a bacaro, which translates into “house of bacchus” and it serves cicchetti (think Venetian tapas). But this place was more like a regular bar with a proper menu and pictures of famous Jazz players adorning the walls.


We were really happy to finally meet up and start relaxing. Then we looked up and saw the ceiling … that was covered by bras, suspended neatly arranged in rows.


From supersized pink G cups to regular whities. Some were signed by the donors. We wondered what made the ladies so enamoured of the place that caused them to give away their underwear. Or maybe they were simply drunk.


Some of you may remember the Hogs & Heifers in the Meatpacking district in New York. They were also well known for the same decor. When they closed this summer after 23 years in business, they reportedly counted more than 16,000 bras.


The food at Bacaro Jazz was unexpectedly decent … or we could have been just cheerful and hungry. I had my usual Alla Vongole.


Now this photo is priceless. I did not notice her hand until all the photos were uploaded back home. I could not have caught this, even if I tried. Who knows what she was doing.


That’s where we had our first meal in La Serenissima.












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