Every journey begins with a step...

 Here we are at the train station, starting our journey on a Friday night. We brought my little 2 seater and all our luggage almost didn't even fit in it. But we made it here and we're about 30 minutes early. 

Robert's idea is to get to Portland and take TWO Max trams to the airport from the train station. I'm afraid of two things: how heavy my luggage is and getting mugged. He finally conceded he would agree to take a taxi if it looks sketchy (the kids call that "sus") but I'm really determined to try the Max. Why not. I've swum in a bottomless underground cenote' cavern with eels and fishes. I should be ok on a tram.

There are 4 other people here, all young guys except one. She's an older woman that looks maybe 60. Everyone is looking at their phones 

We check our bags for free and weigh them. Robert's is 47 pounds and mine is 41. Mine sure feels a lot heavier than that when I'm lugging it around on the sidewalk. I think I should have stuck with the backpack. But I'll certainly enjoy having a nice group of dresses to choose from for dinners.

I can't believe we're really going to Italy. I text my best friend Anya and we chat back and forth for a while. She can't believe it either.

Robert and I finally get on the train after he makes sure they put our checked luggage on the train. We bought business class tickets so we sit at a big table with four seats. We decide to grab a snack from the cade car, so get 2 hotdogs, chips, and 2 cokes. Ya gotta love train food.

Robert decides he's going to break out his notebook and pencil and write a blog. He starts by writing at the top "Robert's Blog" and underlining it. Who's going to tell him it's more of a diary? Not me.

We get to Union Station in Portland and get our luggage. We ask how to get on the green line Mac, so we can transfer to the red line Max that goes to the airport, and the station worker tells us to go outside and take a left and wait at the max platform. That turns out to be a terrible idea, as homeless people start casing us the second we show up and it takes 45 minutes to catch a green line Max here. We get tested a couple times while waiting but the only thing that suffers is my nerves. 

We ride the green line to the Rose Quarter and hop off, thinking we will swap to the red line. We do, but it takes forEVER to get to the airport, at which time Robert says we have to find a shuttle to our Hamton Inn. I am not amused. He decides to pay a taxi but there's confusion about Hilton vs Hampton. Turns out Hilton owns this Hampton.

We check in and then go next door to the Sheraton and their restaurant. We have beer battered fish and chips which is actually stellar, then we go back to the hotel and crawl in bed. We are exhausted.

We're up by 3:30 and get down to the lobby by 4. There are a plethora of couples waiting for shuttle service to the airport. We all get shuttled to our flights and Anya shows up in time to board with us. Turns out she's sitting next to me!

We fly to Chicago and step off the plane and onto the street out front so Anya and Robert can smoke. The heat is 85 and the humidity is 50%. It's not Florida but it's sure nothing like home. Gross!

We sit down to eat Italian food and Anya orders the biggest single meatball we've ever seen! Then at the end of the meal, Anya realizes her next boarding pass has disappeared! She got through security with it but now it's gone. I confirm it's literally missing. So Anya finds a Lufthansa rep at a desk and gets him to print all her remaining boarding passes. Thank gawd!

We all fly to Germany and then on to Venice. We catch up with Anya, get all our luggage, and get vaporetto tickets. Somehow, the vaporetto barker runs us past a huge line of people waiting and throws us on a boat leaving RIGHT NOW. We are so lucky.

We get to see the Venice skyline. When we get off the boat, we start following Robert, who says that even though we were dropped off in a weird place, he knows where we are. He finds the AirBnB easily. Anya and I are nearly dead though. The only thing that keeps us going is the loud, solemn gongs of a Sunday church bell ringing slowly through the canals and alleys.

The AirBnB host says she grabbed the wrong key so she can't let us in, and the electrician is coming because no electricity works in the apartment. This was a $2,000 cost to rent this apartment, so I'm not pleased. But we all look at each other and realize these Venetians move on their own time. Like Hawaii time. So we sit and have prosecco and a macchiatto while we wait.

Eventually, the electrician fixes most of the lights in the 14th century apartment. The hostess is so charming, we forgive her. She shows us the article about this apartment in Architectural Digest from last year, 2021. It's hard to be huffy when you realize what a gem the place is and how seriously old it is.

The hostess and electrician leave and I go looking for my partner and my best friend. It's 1pm here and they're both out cold in their respective beds!