Christmas 2024

 And we've made it to the end, or nearly the end, of another year. It's a strange Christmas, coming so soon after my father's passing. We were never a particularly religious family, and my memories of Christmas when I was growing up are almost entirely associated with my mother (who I had a very emotional dream about the other day, which I suppose I should reflect upon in a future post) or travelling to my grandparents' homes, but my father's absence still makes for a slightly more mournful Christmas. As Janet and I were discussing yesterday, there's a reason why there are always spirits in all of Dickens's Christmas tales; the ghosts of the departed have their place around the tree as well. Still, I never would have dreamed that I would have been as happy at this time of my life as I am, and I am very blessed.

The view from the front porch of our cabin, on a frosty Christmas morning. This may make our 2025 Christmas card.

But in the End

 You don't get experiences like this in Calais, Vermont.

I never ran into a little girl in a red rain coat, so these little odd corners were merely charming and not terrifying. So, I'll just go ahead and apologize to Venice for being part of the overcrowding for a few days.

But Then

 . . . maybe there are bigger problems than too many tourists.

Considering that Janet's family is originally from Sicily this sign is even more interesting, especially because there are ways to dissect her last name which have a very odd connection to that "southern thing."

Tourist Go Home

 And I guess that would include me. I snapped this on a seemingly quiet little alleyway in Venice on the November trip. Truthfully, I can't blame the Venetians. Every year Venice has around twenty million tourists, which is a staggering figure, especially if you take into account that there aren't that many people who actually live in in the city on a regular basis. As I think I said elsewhere, if Venice sent me a note and wanted to thank me for being a good visitor by giving me a free trip to the city in July I think I'd say no.

I maybe this is one of the reasons (one of the many reasons) why I find myself drawn to locations such as Namibia or Yemen.

Libreria Acqua Alta

 Here's a shot I snapped at the famous Acqua Alta bookstore in Venice. The crowd had thinned for just long enough for meet to take this picture. It was right about closing time in late November, and it was so crowded you couldn't move. I'd love to go back there when things aren't so crowded (which, I suspect, isn't a time).

The notion is that by stacking the books in a gondola it reduces the chance that they'll be ruined when the waters rise (although, I suspect, it's more for the eye of the tourist than reality).

An Impeccable Sense of Direction - an Endless Series

 I'm pretty certain that I have a very similar post about getting lost in Sana'a, Yemen.

I think I have this sorted out. I go to the end of this alley and . . .

. . . turn right . . . 

. . . or maybe it's left . . .

To be fair, it is Venice, and I think you need to be born there to have it successfully imprinted on your brain. I said the same thing about Sana'a and also Fez, Morocco and old Kasgar, China and Stone Town in Zanzibar.

Some Good Things

 The mad dash back to Indiana was an almost unmitigated disaster - more on that later - but there were some nice moments. Maybe the best one was, after my family (as is their wont) fell apart spectacularly in one day, I spent the night at my nephew Garrett's apartment in Cincinnati. He's a great guy and I wish I had more opportunities to hang out with him. I remember when he and Lisa visited me in Abu Dhabi and we went out to the desert at Liwa. She couldn't believe that I rallied him at 3:30 in the morning the head out into the sand dunes to watch the sun come up. I mean, I'm his uncle, of course he'd get up that early.

We went out to Zip's for a burger. That place was ancient when I used to go there in graduate school back in the 80s. Thanks, Garrett, for making up for a generally dreary visit.