Venice: Where the Streets (Sometimes) Have No Name

Proxima fermata on my Italy trip was Venice. What can I say, except that I love Venice. I don't love all the little salesmen trying to hawk roses, fake Gucci bags, or light-up flying helicopter things, but I do love the absence of cars, the crazy winding streets, and the old stone buildings.

Contrary to popular belief, Venice doesn't really smell. Sure, there were a few spots where the scent of sewer managed to waft its way out of the ground, but on the whole Venice just smelled like a city (although it might have helped that I was there in spring and not summer and also that there hadn't been any recent garbage worker strikes).

Venice has its own tower, which I didn't pay to go up in, the royal Palazzo Ducale, and the Basilica of San Marco, which is absolutely incredible, covered in gold paint and tile mosaics. (Oh, and also free. Take a lesson, Verona.)

I wouldn't have minded too much getting lost in the streets of Venice and never making it to the train station. After all, there's no being-emo allowed in the Piazza San Marco, and anywhere with that as a rule can't be too bad.