Love Affair in Venice (COMPLETE)

2. A Private Tour Pt. 1

"Are you happy?" Vanessa asked, taking the portrait and hugging it to her chest.

"Of course! Why not? Life in Venezia is beautiful. The food is delicious. The wine excellent. Music makes everything come alive...è perfetto." Marco pinched his fingers together and blew a kiss. Then he stretched lazily. As he flexed, his hard, muscled chest strained against his shirt.

He had the biggest smile on his face. A contentment only a true lover of life could possess.

"How long have you been a gondolier? And how did you know that's what you wanted to do?" Vanessa asked. She sat down on the dock, criss-crossing her legs, captivated by her new acquaintance.

Marco rubbed the glazed sides of his boat, grinning. "My father was a gondolier. He taught me the trade when I was fifteen and I never wanted to do anything else. I love talking to people from all over the world. To be on the water everyday...It's a dream come true! What is it you do, where you are from?"

Vanessa twisted a strand of hair around her index finger. "I uhh...I sell makeup. In the United States." It was a huge understatement of course but she couldn't risk exposing her true identity.

"Makeup?"

Vanessa nodded, miming the motions of powdering her cheeks and putting on lipstick. "You know, like lipstick. Mascara. Things to make women feel beautiful."

"Oh!" Marco's eyes lit up. "But you don't wear much make-up on your face? You natural beauty!"

"Thank you Marco," Vanessa blushed, "Yes...After knowing all the things they put into the makeup...It really makes you not want to put it on your face anymore. Lots of bad stuff. Chemicals."

"But how you sell makeup if you don't use?"

"I...I don't deal directly with customers. I work more...behind the scenes you know, in an office. I do the numbers and math."

"Ah," Marco rubbed his stubbly chin. "Smart AND beautiful. Please, tell me. Why you come to Venice?"

Vanessa bit her lip, hesitant to recount her shameful story.

"Sorry, I don't want make you sad," Marco replied when he noticed Vanessa's suddenly sullen mood. "Is it a man?"

"Yes. A horrible, horrible man," Vanessa spat. "It's our wedding day today. But two days ago I found him in bed with another woman. So I left. I'd never been to Venice before so I decided it would be a nice vacation." Vanessa's mouth curled into a smile. "It's been so much better now that I've met you. You have been very nice to me."

"I am sorry to hear that." Marco looked away, gazing at the houses and church spires in the distance. "But it is your first time here?" Marco stood up, peeling the blue tarp off his boat. "Have you been on gondola yet?"

"N-No...actually. I just got here late last night and checked in to my hotel and slept. It was a ten hour flight and I'm still a bit jetlagged."

Marco nodded. Then he stretched out his hand. "Come. I show you Venice on the Canalazzo."

Vanessa hesitated briefly. A small, annoying voice in her head cautioned her against following a stranger on to his gondola. It was the Venetian equivalent of following a stranger into a taxi. Once she surrendered control, who knew what would happen? On the water, he would be king. He could take her anywhere and she would be helpless. She hadn't even brought a map because she hadn't expected to wander far from her hotel beside the Piazza.

But his eyes seemed kind and he was an artist. Vanessa had a soft spot for artists.

"Trust me," Marco said, leaning forward until the tips of his fingers touched Vanessa's knitted shawl.

With a resigned smile, Vanessa took his hand and stepped into the wobbly gondola. "Okay, I trust you." Steadying herself against the plush leather seat, she set down her watercolor portrait on top of Marco's sketchbook before sitting down. She shook off her new sandals which were already leaving blisters on her feet. Fanning and curling her pinched toes, Vanessa let out a relieved sigh.

Marco quickly tucked the watercolor painting under his sketch book cover and took control of the long wooden oar. "Here we go."

Over the course of an hour, Marco showed Vanessa a dizzying array of sights, from the Campo Santa Maria Formosa with its Gothic palaces and churches to the famous white Bridge of Sighs. From extremely narrow waterways with faded red brick apartments to the Grand Canal with its luxurious palazzos, fleets of gondolas, motorboats and vaporettos, the water taxis. Her favorite building was the Byzantine style Ca' da Mosto, the oldest building on the Grand Canal.

Vanessa loved the Renaissance flair of the giant domed churches. The simple clotheslines strung with colorful children's clothing. The smell of fresh baked goods wafting from cafes. But the best part of the tour was the peaceful, unrushed nature of the experience. Normal tourists could only board gondolas during rush hour, making the ride noisy and the waterways, congested with traffic.

During this serene, unhurried tour, at one point Marco broke out in glorious song, serenading his fair haired passenger with heartfelt opera. It was a pity Vanessa didn't understand a single word of it. But she understood the emotion behind the words. And that's what really mattered. Marco told Vanessa a few childhood memories but with his broken English, she could only understand the gist of it. She deduced that he had broken his arm during some sort of bet but couldn't really catch where it happened and what the bet was about. Marco also showed her the tiny alleyway where he had his first kiss. The Rialto Bridge, where his father had a stroke at the age of fifty. He reminisced about a regata, a boat race competition, he won when he was nineteen.

It was undeniable - Marco had countless memories here. Mostly happy ones interspersed with the occasional sad one.

Vanessa laughed when he told her he didn't know how to drive. There was no need for cars in Venice. Everyone traveled by foot, train, or water. Vanessa couldn't imagine walking everywhere, but she supposed that this WAS a whole other country across the Atlantic Ocean. Cultural norms and transportation customs were vastly different here.

They both sighed when they discussed how the vibrant and historically rich city was slowly sinking. In a few hundred years, it would be underwater, much like Atlantis.

On that train of thought, Marco briefly expressed his discontent with the direction Venice was heading. "Too many tourists," he complained. "I know, I need them for my job but sometimes, it's too much. Hard to travel by vaporetto or train because too many people. And everyone here work for tourists or government. The local culture is dying."

Vanessa never thought of it that way. But it was true. Venice was quickly become a city catered solely to the whims of tourists. Special events, expensive luxury hotels and fancy restaurants all opened to swallow up tourist's money in exchange for "the Venetian experience". Except it wasn't exactly the "real deal" if prices were inflated three or four times their usual costs and run by big corporations based in the UK or USA. More and more family owned businesses were shutting down, unable and unwilling to compete against corporate giants.

At the end of the ride, Marco returned to their starting point and tied his gondola around one of the wooden docking poles. "It was fun?"

"Yes. Yes! I had a wonderful time," Vanessa said as she stepped back onto the dock. Her legs were a bit wobbly after sitting down for so long. She bent down to touch her toes and stretch some life back into her muscles.

"Would you like dinner with me tonight?" Marco asked, still standing on the prow. His tight black pants were plastered against his legs like a second skin. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his face. Maneuvering such a big boat all by himself was probably a ton of hard work but he managed to do it with easy gracefulness.

"Yes!" Vanessa smiled wholeheartedly. "Where should we meet?"

"Come back here eight o' clock. I take you to my favourite ristorante."

Part 2 coming up next...

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