Sick, Sicker, Sickest

Now that Phil is retired, or as Ben puts it, "without purpose," we are free to travel offseason. We can avoid the crowds, avoid the superhot weather, be more flexible. This has worked out wonderfully, mostly. But...

Egypt in December is their high season, because the heat is not unbearable. So, very very crowded. And Venice during December is their second high season, because everyone wants to come to Venice for Christmas and New Years. So, extremely and rather unexpectedly crowded.

And in addition, everyone is sick in December. Packed into airplanes, restaurants, bars, shops -- the coughing and sneezing is rampant. 

Sue arrived in Venice with a very nasty cold. I was getting over my Egyptian cold, but not feeling very well at all. Ben was coming down with a cold.

And yet we persevered.

Sue remained abed their first day here, but Klauser and Phil went to the Correr Museum in San Marco square, a vast, diverse collection the best part of which were their Tintorettos and, surprisingly, some Flemish masterpieces including a Breughel. We all dined together at our new favorite restaurant, Ai Assassini.

On New Year's Eve, we remained pretty much at home, except for me. I was having severe chest pain, so I contacted our rental company, who sent me to a pharmacist, who wouldn't have anything to do with me and gave me a doctor's number. The doctor was on vacation but sent me to another doctor. Phil accompanied me to the visit; the doctor being Italian (and gorgeous, did I mention?) was of course an hour late, so we wandered around and went into the Church of San Demetrio, where we found a Tintoretto of the saint, and the Church of the Holy Apostles, with a Veronese "Gathering of the Manna" and a Tiepolo of St. Lucy. Also had cappuchinos.

The doctor announced I might have pneumonia and sent us to the one hospital on the island, instructing us to go straight to radiology for an X-ray. Alas, radiology sent us straight to the ER, where, without a book (because WHO KNEW) I waited. And waited. And waited. I had to send Phil back to the apartment because he and Klauser had tickets to visit San Marco -- and he had to do it without GPS! He made it, with the help of many kind passersby. Meanwhile, I sat among the dying mamas and their desperate daughters until I was abruptly taken in, given an unnecessary IV and EKG, had half my blood removed, and sent back to the waiting room.

I was taken in again for a chest ultrasound, where they pronounced that I probably had pneumonia and should have an X-ray. At this point I was emotionally dead, so I didn't point out that I could have saved four hours by having this happen first as initially instructed. After another hour, the X-ray was performed, I was pronounced pneumonaic, given a prescription, and sent on my merry way after their payment platform crashed, unable to process my 115 euro (!) charge. 

After some R&R, I joined the others in merriment and a great deal of prosecco as Phil cooked a New Years feast of seafood pasta (first course) and beef bracciole, which we asked the butcher for as "beef brazhool" the way our Italian friends had instructed, and which made the butcher hoot and correct us to "bracheeoli," as Italians who are not from New Jersey would say it. At 11 p.m., Phil, Ben, Klauser, and I bundled up and headed to San Marco for the fireworks. The crowds were large but not unpleasant and very orderly, nobody pushing, nobody throwing punches or throwing bottles or throwing up. We got near the front, which was the seafront; the fireworks were set off from an island (or maybe a boat?) directly across from San Marco. And they were spectacular! Well worth the walk and the chilliness. 

Calmly and in an orderly fashion, everyone left the square when they were done, and we staggered back to the apartment and were abed by 2.