‘It’s just… incredible…’ she gasped.
Squeezing her once more, he dropped his arm from around her waist and caught her hand. ‘Come on. Let’s get a taxi.’
Following his gaze, Beth noticed loading ramps in front of the train station, with great hulking water buses filled with people. She tried to make sense of the chaos at the dock as she followed Danny across the piazza and neared the water.
‘How do we buy tickets for the water bus? And how do we know where to go? Does it pull up in front of the hotel? Or is it like the subway?’
Danny shook his head. ‘No, we aren’t taking the vaporetto. We’ll take a water taxi, it’s easier.’
Only then did Beth notice that there was a taxi stand on the water and a queue of people in line behind it. Aside from the fact that these taxis were glossy, wood-panelled speedboats and not yellow cabs, it was much like a taxi stand back home in Manhattan.
How glamorous…
Suddenly, Beth pictured herself wearing a headscarf, large black oversized sunglasses on her face, laughing into the wind like Carole Lombard or Audrey Hepburn in some fantastic Golden Age Hollywood movie. In her mind, she saw Danny at her side, devilishly handsome in an Italian-cut suit and dark sunglasses, channelling Cary Grant or Clark Gable, handing her a glass of prosecco as he helped her into the boat. She felt like swooning right at that moment, just like in the movies. Danny would catch her as she fell (elegantly, of course) into his arms, and he would stroke her temple and pepper her face with kisses. Until she awoke, thereupon he would spirit her away to their hotel room where they would make passionate love while a gondolier with an operatic baritone voice serenaded them, his song echoing up from the Canal below.
Then Beth’s romantic vision came to a distinct halt as she heard the words, ‘How much?’ and the answer, ‘Ninety euro.’ Well and truly launched back into reality, she looked from Danny to the idly smiling water-taxi driver in front of her.
‘Ninety euro? But Venice doesn’t look that big,’ she gasped, riffling through her bag for her map. ‘Just how far do you need to take us?’ she questioned the driver, after providing the name of their hotel. Truthfully, she could make no sense whatsoever of the Venetian canal layout and wasn’t about to attempt to until she had a chance to explore and familiarise herself.
The driver, a dark swarthy man whose ancestors were likely pirates who had once commanded the waters of the Adriatic, took the proffered map from Beth and gave it a cursory glance. Within seconds, he pointed to a spot, his finger on the identifier Ca’ Satriano near the Venice Theatre. Quickly thinking back to the description of the location of the hotel advertised on their website, Beth knew he was being truthful.
‘And where are we now?’ she asked. The Italian pointed again, indicating the large bulky mass at the top of the map labelled as the Santa Lucia train station. When Beth realised the distance between point A and point B, she gulped hard. No way could that add up to ninety euro…
Turning to Danny, she said, ‘No, Danny. Let’s take the water bus, or walk. That’s way too much for such a short trip.’ She knew he wouldn’t have as good a grasp of the currency value as she did.
Danny smiled. While he appreciated Beth’s fiscal mindfulness, right now it was uncalled for. ‘Babe, really, it’s OK. I’ve been on the vaporetto, and I can tell you it’s not overly efficient. This will get us there faster, and besides, those shoes you have on are not made for Venice’s cobbled streets. Nor is dragging your suitcase. Spend a day in this city and you’ll soon see.’
Beth bit her lip and tried to ignore the driver’s eye roll. Indeed, her strappy, four-inch Tory Burch pumps were not made for walking, and she had to admit she had enjoyed the first-class cabin on the train from Florence to Venice.
‘Besides we’re here to celebrate my promotion. We can afford it. And you don’t even take the bus in New York.’
She sighed and acquiesced. ‘Oh, all right, when you put it like that.’ She smiled at Danny and took his hand again as the water-taxi driver jumped to attention. The man busied himself with grabbing their luggage and lugging the cases to a boat standing at the ready in the canal.
A moment later, Danny helped Beth navigate the steps into the water taxi.
Noticing the luxurious wooden panelling and white leather seats, she allowed her mind to return to her previous fantasy, and her heart skipped with delight when they settled into the back of the boat and the driver produced two glasses of prosecco for their enjoyment.
Beth sipped the bubbles and felt herself relax. The boat’s engine roared to life and motored into the Canal. A light breeze tickled her face and she breathed in the smells and sounds of this amazing water city. A moment later the driver took a turn down Fondamenta Garzotti and she pointed excitedly at the gondolas with which they shared the waterway.
‘Oh, Danny, look, look. Gondolas! Oh my goodness, I just can’t believe I am here, that we are here. Can we do that? Can we take a gondola ride?’ She felt ready to burst with excitement and turned to face him, her eyes as wide as saucers at the unashamed glamour of it all. Italy was even better than she’d imagined – exactly like it looked in the movies, though even more wonderful in reality.
Danny laughed, throwing his head back in obvious enjoyment. She knew he was perplexed sometimes by her imagination, unbridled optimism and tendency to elevate everyday events to something worthy of Hollywood. He was always teasing her about those notions and joking that a constant soundtrack of movie music was playing in her head.
He pulled her close and placed a kiss on her cheek. ‘Beth, we can do whatever you want. I planned all this just for us.’
Then Beth’s leading man turned his attention to her lips, and thoughts of gondolas, prosecco and Venice left her brain.
At least for the moment.
***
A few hours later, Danny pulled Beth close and nuzzled her neck. Having checked into their hotel, a beautifully picturesque boutique building right on the water, they now were dedicated to exploring this beautiful city.
They had sat in a small café next to Rialto Bridge for almost two hours, chatting, people watching, and drinking a bottle of delicious Italian wine and, both happily flushed, were now immersed in the city’s historical sights.
‘I think Venice suits you, you know,’ he murmured into Beth’s hair as they meandered down Calle della Donzella.
‘What makes you say that?’ she asked as she leaned into him and wrapped an arm around his waist.
