I've been walking about for some time, crossing bridges and changing habitat. Life has changed, and with it the blog I abandoned last year for a lack of time. I've missed this little dig, sitting at my desk with an espresso - or tea - depending on the mood.
So I'm back. Gazing out my new office window, the one the Russian pounded out of a double brick wall just so I could have light to work. Last year was a year of watching his muscles grow, not that I'm complaining, and you'll hear all about that in pictures.
I was in Venice last week on business, and when I arrived at the train station and crested the great staircase at the entrance to the city, I stopped and absorbed the beauty. My friend and artist, who would join me later that day, had assured me that I should not take the water taxi but rather enjoy the city streets, hang a left and continue on the short distance to our hotel. I did that.
After hauling my heavy suitcase up and down four bridges it dawned on me that this was going to be the terrain for the next 3,000 house numbers. I stopped and inquired, "Am I close to the Hotel Giorgione?"
Si, she replied, only otto brrridges to the hotel.
Otto bridges ... damn my artist.
And that was how I arrived panting and sweating at the lovely Hotel Giorgione in ancient Venice; and that is how I have arrived panting and sweating in 2013 ... only otto bridges more.