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Monday, 24 August 1998

The first day of the conference; it was N's turn to go, so she was up at seven-thirty and out by eight, giving the kids quick hugs. I got them dressed, and we went out to buy breakfast at the panificio.

After breakfast, I had planned a short walk around to let them take pictures with their disposable cameras, but Z refused to leave the apartment for some reason, and it wasn't until ten that we could convince her to leave. We wandered about the neighbourhood, as far south as Campo S. Maria Formosa, and stopped in at the Su.Ve before returning for some mineral water and fresh milk. A had a good eye for detail, but Z was more taken with the process of photography than with composition; I had to veto several of her proposals.

There have been changes in the city since our last visit. I cannot remember this much graffiti, done in NYC "tagging" style; even A recognizes some of the frequently-repeated tags, such as "Drone". Whereas before most people seemed to be making do with the totally inadequate maps given out at the train station or Piazza San Marco tourist office, this time we saw many people with the Eyewitness guide we first used in 96, which has a very good map at the back and is now available in several languages.

There are more cellular phones around, people going for the really tiny pocket models, and there are signs warning against them at the entrance to churches, along with the usual sins of skimpy clothing, food, cameras, and pets. In addition to German, English, French, and Japanese, I now hear Russian, Mandarin, Cantonese, and various Eastern European languages.

Visitors are always struck by the number of cats in Venice, but there are relatively few in evidence now, and dogs are everywhere. There is a consequent increase in droppings on the streets -- it's not Paris, yet, but it's heading that way. We had to keep warning the kids to watch out.

And, speaking of droppings, there are now at least four McDonalds in town -- one near San Marco, one near the Rialto, one somewhat south of that, and one on the Strada Nova en route from the train station.

We returned to the apartment about eleven, and the kids played for a while before lunch, which was mortadella from the local salumeria for the kids, together with leftover lentils and Asiago; prosciutto crudo on a French roll for me, with Asiago and pinot nero.

Z went down for her nap easily, and I napped too for a short while, as A read. Then she poked me to wake me up, and we played cards. Then she read, and then we played cards... and eventually N came home close to four, having missed the 2:10 boat due to conversations over lunch and having to take the 3:25 boat.

The kids wanted to eat out (especially since all I could offer them was tortellini with pesto, and we'd still have to go out to buy the pesto) but it was too early. So we headed towards Piazza San Marco. I wanted to check out a restaurant, Al Mascaron, which I thought was on Salizzada San Lio. "Wait for me in front of Querini-Stampalia," I told N. "No, I'll go ahead - straight from there?" she said. "No - to the right along Remedio," I said.

The restaurant was not on S. Lio, but on Calle Lunga S. Maria Formosa, on the other side of Campo S. Maria. It appeared to open at 6:30. I headed down quickly, but there was no sight of N and the kids, and when I got to the touristy part just north of Piazza San Marco, I began to worry.

I reached the Piazza, and thought, "Great, we have to find each other in the biggest concentration of people in the whole city." But we had decided to go to the Correr Museum bookshop in hopes of finding a print of de'Barbari's woodcut of Venice in 1500, so I went there. No sign of them. I waited by the steps of the Correr for a while, then walked out into the middle of the Piazza, scanning for two small kids and a woman of modest height.

As I reached the Basilica, I suddenly spotted N walking north with the kids, and caught up to her. She had gone straight on Fondamenta de Remegio when she should have turned on Calle de Remegio (as if I was that precise) and ended up going around the Palazzo Ducale and through most of the crowds.

We let the kids feed the pigeons stale Standa rolls (even though I had cut them into half-inch pieces, the birds still had to work for their food) while N asked at the Correr bookshop for the print. No luck; so we headed for the restaurant, and I explained the way for future reference. No luck there either; it was still closed at 6:35, and N pointed out how "18:30" on their handwritten sign had been amended to "19:30".

We went into the Campo S. Maria Formosa and the kids ran around while we discussed what to do. I went down to the Su.Ve to get some pesto, but the lineups at the cashiers were filled with after-work Venetians. So we decided to get takeout pizza from Cip Ciap, on the Calle Mondo Novo just across a bridge from the Campo.

We ordered it, then N took the kids home while I waited around. A gondolaload of tourists came by, attempting to sing along with the gondolier, even more embarrassing than usual. With relief I retrieved our finished pizzas ("the works", and a five-cheese disc) and ran them back home.

N couldn't figure out how to buzz me up, so she ran down and opened the door for me. She had prepared some vegetables for the kids, and set the table. The pizzas had lost a bit of their crisp but were still quite nice, and a bargain at L19,000 for the two, which filled all four of us nicely, even though A ate five half-slices, about twice what she normally manages. I finished off the pinot nero and made a dent in the Prosecco.

We went out to Salizzada San Lio for gelato, but the place was closed. So we bought the kids cones at a nondescript place just over the Calle Mondo Novo bridge, and sat on a bench in the now quiet and mostly dark campo and helped the kids eat. Then it was home and quickly to bed.

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