“Jet Lag is for Amateurs.” Karen and I tested Dick Clark’s theory when we boarded the planes to get us to Venice, Italy, three days ago or, was it four days? Anne picked us up early on Saturday morning, arriving in Boston on time. Our next flight to Lisbon, Portugal, about 5 hours later, was smooth as well. We left at 6 pm and, as we traveled, gained five hours, so before we knew it, it was early morning and time for breakfast.
The original flight from Lisbon to Venice on TAP airline had already been rescheduled for four hours later that afternoon, meaning we would arrive in the Floating City after sunset. But, when the notices started flashing that our plane was further delayed by 2 hours, we were not happy campers. We would now reach Marco Polo airport outside Venice at about 8:15 pm, and we still had to figure out how to get to the hotel in the dark.
But we grinned bravely and made the most of a full day at the airport.
For lunch, we tested a traditional Portuguese dish, “Bacalhau a Bras” (salt cod scrambled with eggs and potato), served with a delicious local wine, Monte Velho.
Landing at Marco Polo that evening, we were pleased to see our luggage rolling out on the carousel and set off to find the Alilaguna Blue line Bus Shuttle Service as recommended by the hotel. We found the ticket office easy as pie and, wheeling our cases, set off on foot, trying to locate the path leading to the departure dock for the waterbus. After continuing into the car park, Karen remembered that the fellow behind the desk said that we had to go up a floor, so back to the main building we went. Voila! A moving walkway indicated that we had 20 minutes of plodding ahead. The ‘auto walk’ kept up our spirits by measuring the distance every 5 minutes.
The waterbus was ready when we got there, and we set off into the pitch-black night. We could not see anything through the windows and only saw a few lights when bumping into a few docks as we neared the city of Venice. By now, the weather had deteriorated to cold and rainy as well, and side-stepping the puddles, we dragged our unwilling cases along the uneven pathway. We had a map with instructions to follow the directions for Teatro la Fenice, but we could not see any signs in the dark.
We promised to be at breakfast by 8:30 the following day. However, our bodies dictated otherwise, and we both woke up at 11 am. Not too bad, considering I had no sleep for 46 hours, and Karen only had a few. Being intrepid travelers, we can probably claim that “Jet Lag is for Amateurs.”