DAY 29: Stares on Stairs

Definition of Parkour: (English: the art of moving) is the physical discipline of training to overcome any obstacle within one's path by adapting one's movements to the environment. It is a non-competitive, physical discipline which participants run along a route, attempting to negotiate obstacles in the most efficient way possible. Parkour practitioners are often called traceurs if male, or traceuses if female.


These people must come train in Venice... I felt like I had tryouts to be a traceuse this morning when I attempted to go running. There is a street near the hotel that looked fairly straight on the map. Bahahaha, bollocks! Along with art history, my agility is a little rusty- I'd get going and turn a corner into an alley that dead ended or run up, over a bridge into a wall... I found a courtyard and did laps until venders started dragging their carts in catcalling. Back over to the Rialto Bridge  I reminisced the ol' college hoops days and ran stairs. A lot of stairs. And got a lot of stares from passerby's on the stairs. I considered jumping off to cool off, until I saw a pair of pants and a wig float by...


Breakfast at the hotel with my fellow artisans consisted of muslix, croissants, yogurt, coffee and OJ- quite the spread compared to most places... Off to the Frari Basilica to contemplate Titian and Temperature... It was colder inside the church than it was outside. We huddled together, watched our breath and listened to a few peers dictate "in situ" (situated in the original, natural, or existing place or position) presentations on vantage points, virgins and vanity. Coffee, a toilet and a radiator were much needed, so we jammed into a coffee shop to warm up before finding the San Rocco- a "Frat House" boasting outstanding wood carvings housed in an arctic climate. Prices have gone up to visit churches and museums, between 3-10 euros... "God is expensive these days," Taylor disdainfully remarked. I walked laps in the great room, only to find the LONE space heater in the entire building. And so I sat, slowly gaining feeling back in my limbs, enjoying the ceiling frescos with a mirror tray they provided- good for the spine, bad for your chiropractor. 


The afternoon was free, so we grabbed gyro wraps at a small snack shop and walked around the city for a bit. There was a group consensus to find a supermarket and "make" dinner, only problem was locating a supermarket. One hour later we stood in line purchasing brie, salami, olives, apples, bread and red wine. Hallway dining is the best- exchanging stories, laughter and sketchbook drawing... until we decided to turn our chill night into a pub hunt. Fat Tuesday, we found out, is NEXT Tuesday- but we thought we'd practice. San Marco square provided creeptastic people watching- weirdos and commoners alike dressed in costumes with masks featuring large beaks and feathers. It was also "tango night," as an elevated stage supported stilettos and bright man-tights... Renaissance is soooo coming back into style. We sniffed out an Irish Pub and provided Becca with her first Irish Car Bomb- so proud of the influence I've had on peoples lives... Hours of conversations involving skiing and graphic design while carving our personal logos into the table with pocket knives led us out the door. A happenin' crowd a few streets down invited us to celebrate a birthday as they fell in love with our little Justine... "Como se de se: Get your grubby paws off my ass?" Connections were made, hearts were broken, Campari spritzers were plentiful... good times were had by all.


More from the Venitian maze later! Ciao ciao ciao