Venetian Sunrise

Sometimes when traveling I stumble upon a perfect moment that brings me to a state of complete satisfaction. It might be on the peak of a snow-covered mountain with my skis strapped and ready to take the plunge. It might be out in “the bush” under the African moonlit skies. Some of these moments have been in the middle of big cities with crowds of people and some have been lost in the middle of Minnesota cornfields.
One summer I spent a few days relaxing in Venice, Italy and I came across one of those moments. I climbed out of bed early on a hot August morning and headed out into the maze of canals and narrow alleys that make Venice what it is. Although it was early, the humid summer air from the Mediterranean already chased off any hint of chill that the night could bring. I wandered without any goal of where I was going so I knew I would get there soon. The city was still asleep and only occasional shopkeepers could be found preparing for another day of the endless throngs of people who would hurry pass their doors.
This particular morning I was taking it slow. I wandered passed an aging Italian Nun who I assume was on her way to church. I smiled at her and she uttered something in Italian to which I responded by simply smiling some more. I would like to think that she said, “Good morning gracious one blessed of God”. But it is just as likely that she said, “Get out of my way, I’m late for work and the Lord needs me”.
Still feeling the effects of the morning blessing, I wandered a moment longer until I found a little café nestled comfortably next to a canal and tiny footbridge. The storeowner must have been hired by a talent agency because his short, stalky body and his round cheery face was the quintessential picture of an Italian café worker. He greeted me once again in Italian and I responded by asking for a cappuccino (an Italian word I know) and a croissant.
That morning I sat at a tiny outdoor table drinking my cappuccino and eating my croissant while surrounded by a mass of locals all who believed in beginning their day with some espresso, some friends, and some second hand cigarette smoke. As the sounds of old men and old women talking and laughing in Italian filled my ears I thought this is close to the perfect moment for me. I imagined for a moment that I was one of them. I was an old Italian man who ate pizza and drank wine everyday. I liked spaghetti for lunch and playing Bocci Ball in the park. I spoke English in a quiet tone reminiscent of Marlon Brando in the Godfather and I always wore suits.
Then I drifted back into reality just as the sun appeared over an old brick building that had picturesque window boxes overflowing with summer flowers. The canal next to me was perfectly calm, the warm summer sun provided a golden tone across the sky, and the smell and taste of my cappuccino and croissant livened my senses. With nowhere to be and nothing to do, I wanted to freeze this moment in time and stay there a while. My Venetian Sunrise was the perfect way to start the day.