Venice or Bust IX - Shopping in Europe

SANTORINI SHOP
I CAN'T BELIEVE I SHOPPED A WHOLE GREEK ISLAND!

VENICE - SHOP WINDOW BY NIGHT

SOPHIE'S SHOPPING CART

MY NANA SAYS, "YOU'RE NEVER TOO YOUNG TO SHOP."

SHOPPING IN EUROPE

Hey all you shoppers! I’m not one myself, but being married to one qualifies me as something of a connoisseur. Here’s a few tips from our recent European splurge.
Rule #1 – Forget the price. You’re going to spend more than you ever thought. Don’t worry be happy.

Dubrovnik, Croatia
On a nice, sunny day Dubrovnik is paradise for shoppers’ husbands. Perhaps because outdoor cafes, ocean views, and other diversions entice away all but the most determined shoppers. Whatever!
Dubrovnik manages to strike the right balance for both buyers and sellers. The merchants are friendly and definitely not ‘hard sell’. Bargaining is allowed but not mandatory. Saying a few words in Croatian creates a genuine bridge of good feeling.
Best buys – lavendar and Italian leather goods. The former grows wild on the Dalmatian Coast while the latter is about 1/3 less than you would pay in Venice. Embroidered linens are reasonable also.

Kusadasi, Turkey
The sons of Artemis are indeed hard bargainers. Rena digs her heels in when faced with the hard sell, so I really didn’t have much to fear. Nevertheless you must play the game. For those who hate to negotiate a lower price – Turkey is not for you!

The Turks really enjoy it. They have a great sense of fun and appreciate a good joke as much as a successful negotiation. Even if no deal is struck – there are no hard feelings. Bargaining is a mental gymnastic like arm-wrestling. It’s definitely my kind of shopping:
“How about a nice leather jacket for the mister?” Romeo asks Rena.
(He is trying to enlarge the deal while he and Rena haggle over a pocketbook.)
“No thanks, I’m a vegetarian,” I chip in.
Big laugh all around.
If you’re not a vegetarian and enjoy bargaining, do buy a leather jacket. You’ll get a good deal. I think carpets are for experts only. Have fun trying on weird outfits. Enjoy baklava and coffee. Laugh a lot.

Santorini, Greece
Shopper’s paradise. Bring lots of euros and spend all of them. We happened to hit the island at the beginning of October when tourists are waning and prices are dropping. We found some good bargains.
Unique items include jewelry made from the lava that buried Atlantis. Gold jewelry in Byzantine style is also great.
Santorini is where shopper Rena finally met her limit. She shopped till she couldn’t walk another step. (see photo). We were waiting for the bus back from Oia to Fira. Even a donkey ride would have looked good by then!

Corfu, Greece
Do something else. It’s hard to get enthusiastic about kumquat liqueur.

Venice, Italy
To experience the sheer beauty and poetry of shopping (if there really is such a thing) shop Venice by night. I may be wrong, but I think the brilliantly lighted shop windows of the Rialto may be among the wonders of the modern world.

Imagine yourself in Venice 9:30 PM.-- Piazzas by moonlight, the footfalls and laughter of passersby, the smell of canals and the sea, the sound of classical violins from strolling troubadours. No streetlights, no motors, no horns. Moonlit waters lap the pier where your gondola awaits.

Suddenly a lighted window ahead! A shop displays its bounty of baroque party masks.
Imagination transports you to the 18th century. You’re in a world made for lovers, footpads and thieves. Lighted palazzos, costume balls and Casanova. One would have to be without a romantic bone in one’s body not to be affected by shopping in Venice at night.

Rena and I give it 10 stars as one of the best shopping experiences ever. And we spent absolutely nothing. How marvelous!

Daktari

Venice or Bust VIII - Viva Venezia!

MARCO THE GONDOLIER
CANAL WITH WOODEN STRUCTURES

SEARCHING FOR BARGAINS IN THE RIALTO

BRIDE AND GROOM IN PIAZZA SAN MARCO

THE SNAKE MADE ME DO IT!

PARKING LOT AT THE ILE POMENI

VIVA VENEZIA

I just love the sound of Italian in the morning!
“Buon giorno,” says our waitperson.
“Due café,” I reply. “Espresso con pane e uno cappuccino con biscotti.”
I’m not sure if I get the hand gestures right but the accent is understandable.
Our waitperson bustles off.

We are sitting in the sunshine on the Grand Canal facing the Rialto Bridge with our first coffees and the whole day ahead. “Che buona fortuna!”

The guys in the nautical black hats and striped sailor shirts are ‘gondolieri’. For 70 euros the four of us clamber aboard for a thirty minute gondola trip to the Grand Canal, the Rialto fish market and back . Our gondolier is named Marco. He and I are both namesakes of the patron Saint of Venezia – San Marco. Marco points out some of the original wooden structures that are 500+ years old and date to the time when the proto-Venetians moved to this inaccessible swamp to avoid Attila and the gang. (see 'Hungarian-One Easy Lesson' in my August 4, 2008 blog)
These pre-date the glorious stone and brick ‘palazzos’ built during Venice’s ascendancy as the major naval power in the Levant from 1200-1500 C.E. We see a famous tenor walking to the opera house on his way to work. Hailed by Marco, he smiles and waves.

Shops take up most of the area between the Rialto and St. Mark’s square. By the time we reach the Piazza San Marco, everyone is tired, thirsty and out of euros. We take a break for pizza and gelato and, of course, more café –‘stile Italiano’.

It’s Saturday and I snap a nice photo of a bride and groom on their wedding day in front of the western façade of St. Mark’s. No one else wants to see the paintings by Tiepolo and Tintoretto that decorate the Doge’s palace. They go off shopping while I sit in the sun, watching tour groups and flocks of pigeons perambulate the Piazza. The tour groups crowd around their guide’s banner. Meanwhile, the pigeons congregate in not dissimilar fashion around individuals holding paper cones high in their outstretched arms. I flash on a scene from my childhood: I’m standing in Piazza San Marco. I’m holding a cone of cracked corn. Pigeons sit on my head and arms while Dad takes my picture. I remember the feeling of scratchy pink pigeon feet on my seven year old scalp. Funny thing memories! I wonder what our bride and groom will remember of their wedding day 50 years from now?

I photograph the mosaics and the statues on the outside of the palace. My favorite is the statue of Adam and Eve on the Southeast corner. The snake is in the middle. The tree of life has everybody adequately covered. It looks to me like Eve is pointing accusatorily at the serpent. “The snake made me do it.”

No time to gaze at art. We hike further east to Ile Pomeni – a small island in a residential neighborhood. It’s evening and families promenade with their dogs and children in the afternoon sunshine. There are no cars in all of Venice so people are free to inhabit the streets. And they do! How wonderful to live where walking is the norm. In this respect, Venice is a lot like Amesbury’s sister village of Esabalu in Kenya. If you haven’t lived in a community of pedestrians before, you really haven’t lived the way human beings should.

After sunset, Venice is magic! We cross the Rialto Bridge an dine at an outdoor restaurant in Campo San Polo. San Polo is the second largest public square in Venice, after Piazza San Marco. Bullfights used to be held at Campo San Polo and Lorenzo di Medici was assassinated here.

The spaghetti at the local trattoria is so expensive that we have to send John out to find an ATM in order to get tip money. Of course, John gets a little disoriented by the winding streets and we send out a search party (me). I leave Marg and Rena wondering if they’ll have to do dishes in an Italian ristorante. After a long meander I find John wrestling with the ATM. We figure out why his card isn’t working (in Italian) and return to the ladies patiently wondering where in the heck we are. ‘Missione compiuta.’

Never mind. The food is delicious. The lights, the lively Saturday night crowd, the strolling classical street musicians on a clear autumn evening weave a spell. Ciao Venezia! I’d stay longer if I could.

DAKTARI