I’m that nudgey friend prodding for your travel bucket lists. Challenging you to spin the globe. Plying you with travel magazines for inspiration. I’m the friend who actually wants to see your travel photos. So when my husband asks if he could be in charge of planning his dream trip for us, I sit back and smile. My work here has been done.
Radek’s dream is to be a Venetian. Honestly, I wish he was because that would be a great place to spend every other Christmas. No offense, Gubin, Poland, but Venice you are most certainly not.
Radek scoured craigslist until he found a dank little cave that was within our budget. Then we set off for a month of slow strolls, meandering walks and a nightly passeggiata. The goal is to be able to walk from point A to point B without having to rely on those little signs on every corner: To Rialto, To San Marco. In fact, whenever you see those signs I suggest taking the other turn and following it down some tiny dead-end passageway to a little-used canal or a mysterious and well-flourished gate. This strategy could keep you busy for ten years.
We only had a month to be Venetians, but it’s a month that pulls at us anytime we see a reference to that improbable paradise. For Radek it’s one of those un-bucketable dreams. A tricky dream that once realized, is only more alluring. So there it is, continuously occupying the top of Radek’s travel to-do list. I guess I can stop prodding now.