Trip Report:
ABD Day 6
July 9, 2023
ABD day 6: time for our final transfer of the trip. The logistics for this transfer were a little more complicated than the last one because we were saying goodbye to the coach and heading to Venice by train. That meant that anything we carried on the train would need to be toted around Venice until our afternoon hotel check-in. Along with my wallet, the passports, my camera, and my water bottle, I reluctantly agreed to carry P’s book so that he could read on the train. (Spoiler: he did not read on the train). Then, we put our suitcases in the hallway for pickup and brought our day packs downstairs with us while we ate our final meal in Tuscany.
After breakfast, the guides air dropped or emailed the train ticket information to each family. Then, we boarded the coach, which took us to Florence to catch our train. In Florence, we bid farewell to our driver, Massi, and our guides, Massi and Gabby, led us into the train station to wait for our train. This entails waiting until the track for your train is posted a few minutes before departure time and then scurrying to board before the train leaves. Tip: there was no restroom access after security at the train station and ABD enters via an entrance that takes you directly past security. There was, however, a restaurant, so I purchased a soda for P to carry on the train and added it to my already heavy pack.
When our track was announced, we boarded the train en masse and found our seats. They were already occupied. “Are you sure these are the right seats?” I asked D.
The American couple in our seats responded, “We’re in the wrong seats. Ours are too close to the bathroom. It smells over there, so we decided to sit here.” The couple looked at us expectantly. When it became clear that we weren’t going to give up our reserved seats, they gathered their things and moved to their own seats.
When we sat down, the first thing I noticed was that the seats were filthy, with pastry crumbs on the chairs and garbage stuffed in the seat back pocket. My first thought was, “Service on first class trains in Italy is not what I expected.” In hindsight, though, I’m willing to bet that the seats were clean before they were commandeered by our entitled friends.
The train trip from Florence to Venice is about 2 hours long. It’s not a very scenic ride. But we had boxed lunches provided by ABD and a snack service to pass the time. And P had my phone, which he played with instead of reading his book. Gabby and Massi also came by to suggest restaurants for dinner that evening and assist with reservations as needed.
The drive to Venice from Tuscany is not much longer than the drive/train combo we employed. I suspect that we took the train because it creates a more dramatic arrival in Venice. As you exit the train station, you are greeted by the Grand Canal. It looks just like you’ve always imagined. But you’re really there.
We posed for photos and then took a short walk to the boarding spot for our gondola ride. As others in our group were boarding their boats, Gabby asked if we would be okay with some extra people in our gondola. Having read other reports about this trip, I had a strong suspicion about who the extra people would be and offered an enthusiastic yes. Shortly after we stepped into our gondola, my hunch was confirmed. We were joined by two Italian men, one of whom was carrying an accordion.
As we paddled through the canals, D sang along with the musicians. He was apparently unbothered by the fact that he didn’t know the words to any of the songs and undeterred by the repeated smacks and invitations to shut up that P offered. (One common question that people ask about family travel is whether to wait until the kids are old enough to remember the trip. I suppose that’s a valid concern, but there is something to be said for travelling with kids before they are old enough to consider their parents a horrible embarrassment. Sadly, we are past that point with P). D and I had a wonderful time on the gondola. And P was also there.
We disembarked our gondolas somewhere in the winding maze of streets that is Venice. There, we were met by our local guide, who led us on a walking tour through the city. Venice receives about 4 million visitors a year, but no more than a handful venture to the area in Venice where our tour began. In fact, one of the few people we encountered was Marco Polo himself. He regaled us with stories from his travels, then sent us on our way. (Once again, D and I were delighted and P was too cool to participate, even when assigned the plum role of an elephant in Polo’s story. “You’ve seen wild elephants. You know what sound they make,” I coaxed, doing my own feeble impression. Only daggers from P. No elephant noises). As our tour progressed, the size of the crowds on the streets and in the squares gradually increased. This was our sign that we were approaching St. Mark’s Square.
During the time we were in Venice, there were concerts scheduled in St. Mark’s Square. This meant that the square was full of scaffolding, sound equipment, and other things that were little more than eyesores to those of us without tickets. We headed right into St. Mark’s Basilica, which was not only decidedly not an eyesore, but also mercifully cool after our walk. Writing this now, more than 6 months after our trip, what I most remember about the Basilica is how excited D was to be somewhere so old. The building was first constructed in the 800s after two Venetian merchants stole St. Mark’s body from Egypt and brought it back to Venice to give the city a big attraction. Churches housing the body parts of dead saints were the Disney World of the Dark Ages. And people are still lining up to see St. Mark (or whomever the merchants stole) today.
After our tour of St. Mark’s, we took a short boat ride across the grand canal to our hotel, the Hilton Molino Stucky. The Hilton sits on Giudeca, just across from the main island that everyone thinks of when they think of Venice. We were hot and sweaty and excited to go for a swim in the hotel pool. Unfortunately, we quickly learned that the pool requires reservations that must be made at 8 am the morning of your swim. I was a bit angry about this. Anyone who travels with kids knows that no matter where you take them in the world, they are most interested in the hotel swimming pool. If a hotel limits access to its pool, the website should be clear about that so parents can brace their children for the disappointment.
Instead of a swim, we had some sodas at the welcome reception and then went upstairs to enjoy the air conditioning in our room. The room did have a beautiful view of the Grand Canal. But you can’t swim in the Grand Canal, so it didn’t quite make up for the lack of pool.
Later that evening, we had an early bird dinner (by Italy standards) at the hotel restaurant and then went back upstairs for an early bedtime. If we hadn’t been so worn down by the heat, we probably would have ventured back across the canal for more exploring. Worn down as we were, we all agreed we had made the right choice. (My only regret is that I ordered the tiramisu for dessert instead of the sweet wine and cookies).
That's amazing. And exactly why a half a day in Florence isn't enough.
And I love that D got so engaged with them. And that he loved how old St. Mark's was. I guess it's a balancing act between kids being too young or too old to travel with you like this. Sounds like you're doing it right.
