Everywhere that I have been in the world, with one exception being "safari" Africa, at 7:00am, that place has come alive. The most noticeable audible indicators of that life are the sounds of cars and trucks and the beeping of construction equipment backing up or the clanging and groaning of a trash truck making too-early collections or perhaps a police or fire or ambulance siren or even two. Here, there is only quiet. A pedestrian conversation from the street below can be heard from approach to withdrawal even though the words—in Italian—escape my understanding. It is quiet. For now. It will change when the tourists hit the streets. We, of course, are two of those and we shall be out soon enough.

From San Marco, we catch the Actv Waterbus to Lido for B⁴'s day at the AcquolinA Cooking School. The trip is easy and fun and we are on Lido Island in time to have breakfast and coffee Americano before I have to drop B⁴ off at school. I kiss her goodbye but detect no tears as I depart.

While she is cooking, I am off to explore this island which is essentially the barrier that protects Venice from the troubles the Adriatic might bring should storms arise. There are bathers galore at the beach—a few topless (and those who were shouldn’t have been)—and umbrellas and cabanas lined up like soldiers. I can only imagine what this beach looks like when it is crowded.

As for school, here is B⁴'s firsthand account:

I’m not sure why I wanted to take a cooking lesson in Italy since we go out to dinner most every night, but it sounded like a fun idea and in fact it was. I tried to convince Paul to do it with me. I thought he might like to add making pasta and sauces to his already excellent culinary skills with Papa Murphy’s Pizza, Raisin Bran Crunch with fresh strawberries, and hard boiled eggs. But he preferred to just join us for lunch to partake of all of the delights we cooked. A homemade lunch and he didn’t even have to do the dishes; a job that Paul does gladly and does it well. We have a great division of labor!

 A little something about our teacher, Chef Marika Contaldo Seguso would be in order.

Marika Seguso

Marika is Italian and learned at the knees of her Grandmothers in Italy. Her Grandmothers were making pastas and sauces; mine were making chopped liver and gefilte fish (which I never learned). In 2001, Marika graduated from the Institute of Culinary Education in NY. From there she worked at Chanterelle in NY under the tutelage of David Waltuck and then at Il Cantinori under Frank Minieri. Ultimately she opened Acquolina in NY and developed a client list to cater for who’s who. Among these Ferragamo, Giorgio Armani, Martha Stewart Omnimedia, and more. Ultimately, with two little children and a 24/7 work schedule, Marika came back to Italy and developed her business out of Lido, part of which is the cooking school which I attended for a day. She operates a B&B here as well; it looks like a quiet and restful place to stay if one wished to escape the hustle and bustle that is Venice.

We were a class of seven; three young couples and me. We started the morning preparing our dessert, Tiramisu. Believe it or not Tiramisu is not that difficult to make and one of the ingredients is espresso coffee. We then moved on to pastas. The surprise to me was how easy it was to make potato gnocchi. I actually think I could duplicate that at home. Then we made pasta dough, regular and basil, which we used to create tagliatelle, ravioli, and tortellini with both meat and cheese filling. With the correct equipment tagliatelle and ravioli are formed quite easily. Tortellini on the other hand is a real homemade production. Pasta wouldn’t be pasta without great sauces so our class included a lesson on sage and butter sauce, pesto, cream sauce, and red sauce. I don’t think I’ll be attempting to make fresh pasta at home any time soon; it is more than just a bit of a production. But the sauces, well maybe. We got started cooking around 11am and Marika made sure that each of us was hands on at every step. We finally sat down to eat at 3pm. Lunch was great and we were all pretty proud of our handiwork.

The other treat to me was talking to Marika about her kitchen; the appliances and how she set it up. I got lots of good tips and ideas for the kitchen Paul and I want to create in our new condo in the Alameda. It will be the best equipped kitchen that two people who eat out all the time can dream of.

Lunch was excellent—the eating part, that is.

The Jewish Ghetto is the next stop on our itinerary for today. It is a lengthy waterbus ride from Lido during which we catnap.

In 1516, the government of what was then known as the Serenissima Repubblica issued special laws commencing discrimination against Jews. They were forced to live in designated areas and they could not leave those neighborhoods from sunset to dawn. They were made to wear certain color hats or Jewish stars sewn on their clothes so they could be clearly identified. Apparently Hitler was not the originator of that idea. The area was closed by gates watched by guards. A guard stands vigil here today but, rather than keep Jews in, his mission is to thwart anyone who might wish to commit an act of terrorism here.

Back those nearly 500 years ago, Jews could be doctors (because they could read Arab writings and were better prepared for the skills required to practice medicine), merchants, rag sellers and money lenders. At that time, the Catholic religion made the charging of interest a sin so Jews were needed to provide capital for much needed commerce. The hypocrisy of it all perplexes me.

This ghetto continued to exist in this manner until Napoleon conquered Venice in 1797. He opened and then eliminated every gate and “freed” the Jews to live wherever they wished.

The square in the Jewish Ghetto boasts a few café’s, a kosher restaurant, the Jewish Museum which we were unfortunately too late to be able to see, and frescos on the walls depicting the roundups of Jews during the WWII. The name and age of every Jew displaced and slaughtered from this Ghetto during the war is memorialized on the wall. Today there are only 450 Jews living in Venice. Most are quite assimilated across the city but the Ghetto remains central to the religious Jewish life and the three Synagogues that exist in Venice.

It is quite moving to sit in this square and watch happy children playing soccer, their parents close at hand, knowing what happened there 70 years ago; actually what happened there even many hundreds of years before that. We have much to be thankful for living in the United States even with the anti-Semites who raise their ugly heads all too frequently.

On the way out of the ghetto, we came upon a shop and, upon entering, found what we think is the perfect mezuzah case for our door at the Alameda Tower where we will soon be living. We will find the perfect mezuzah for it to hold when we return to Kansas City.

From the ghetto, we boarded the waterbus for the short trip back to the Rialto Bridge neighborhood where B⁴ has seen a great pair of eyeglass frames and I found an ultra-lightweight backpack. Arriving only minutes before both shops closed, we closed the deals on these souvenirs.

Strolling, we came upon a gondola boarding area crowded with gondoliers but no tourists and we were ready for the final item on our checklist of things to do in Venice. This particular gondolier gaggle, however, was self-possessed and dismissive of us in a way that made me refuse to give them my money. For me, customer service is a bulwark of business and when it is absent, I refuse to buy. We walked away. It’s a good thing too. Had we not abandoned this arrogant bunch, we would never have found Antonio, a delightful fellow a few blocks away. A gondolier for only six years (after a three year apprentice) Antonio was charming , knowledgeable, eloquent, fluent, handsome, and, above all after our last experience, a practitioner of STUN: the art of Satisfying Their (B^4’s and mine) Unmet Needs. For those of you who do not know, STUN is the working title of my book, the first draft of which I have just completed. He STUNned us and, even braving a pair of light sprinkles as we rode, made this final experience of Venice very special.

A late dinner followed by packing finished a very long and wonderful day. Tomorrow, we fly to London Heathrow for the final leg of our journey.