My first day in Venice, Italy was one that I will always remember. Slightly jet-lagged from an early flight, I woke up at 5 am and made my way into the city. I’d opted to stay on the outskirts of Venezia in the neighborhood of Marghera. From the window I watched school children walk hand in hand with parents, dogs sniff the ground, and locals begin to open up shop.
I stopped here, a small local bakery off of a street name I can’t pronounce and ordered one of the best breakfasts of the trip. The juice was squeezed in front of me like in Morocco, the croissant was flaky and sweet like in Zagreb, Croatia and the hot chocolate was thick and rich like in France.
My image of Venice is the quiet morning in late May when I explored the canals during my first visit to Italy. The city on water is truly a sight to see in the wee hours of the morning when locals are preparing for the day. The chill of the morning air provides solace to an otherwise busy canal.
“The most beautiful in the world is, of course, the world itself.” – Wallace Stevens
During that slow morning in Venice, the city not only tickled my senses, but reminded me of the what it is to travel slow. Venice is a city that forced me to walk, eat, and enjoy life at a slower – more gentle – pace.
That breakfast in Venice serves as a reminder of a city’s beauty that wooed me like no other city quite had; with elegance and forced reflection.
Stampchaser Photography 