Piazza Bella - Aperitivo: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII
Piazza Bella - Antipasto: I | II
I woke early and enjoyed a morning run. Even slipping on my Nike running shoes and tying their laces felt exciting because, for the next half an hour or so, it was just me and the streets of Venice.
When I reached the waterfront areas, a stiff breeze felt chilly, but early azure skies and a glorious, ruddy sunrise on the horizon threatened a pleasant fall day.
I needed a time-out to clear all thoughts before other priorities would beg my full attention, all in preparation for the arrival of my mother, two uncles, an aunt, and three cousins.
A delegation of seven pilgrims had left our home city, New York, bound for a remarkable Trattoria in Venice to meet the newest member of our family. My folks would also be pleased to see me, but the main event for the Keady clan visit was my sister, Bella.
I felt nervous about the great family gathering, but my feet pounding Venetian streets, romantic piazza, and the harbor area grounded me in life, provoking my catharsis before tourists and even the city workers woke up.
As each foot planted on the hard ground at metronomic-like regularity, my body and mind released all emotional and mindful negative energy. Every kick forward propelled me onward like a life-positive metaphor, purging my soul while strengthening every muscle.
It seemed proper to be an early riser, taking advantage of the calm before a tumultuous storm of activity. My heart thumped rhythmically, in tune with Mother Nature, while both arms pumped piston-like, up and down, moving perfectly in sync with my stride, driving a forty-nine-kilo powerhouse forward.
“Ahh, sei bellissima, good morning sweetness; how are you, my dear.”
I barely heard him above my music and initially ignored the voice, writing it off as a guy complimenting and greeting someone else. Unfortunately, I was soon halted by a tall barrier of precariously stacked wine cases and crates of food with pallet-bound drink supplies all strewn across the path between a boat unloading and a restaurant I’d forgotten all about.
I spud around, removed my buds, smiled, and pointed at the guy who cheekily complimented me while he sat lazing on a chair, enjoying an espresso while taking a break.