My Italian Journey. Friday 22 May. Day eleven. Venice to Verona

Could this be my last morning ever drinking tea on the Fundamente Nuove and looking across the lagoon to San Michele and sometimes the distant mountains? It could well be, but at the same time I feel it won’t be, especially now that I realise how easy it can be to travel here by train. On the other hand, I regularly say that my contribution to the Galapagos, the Antarctic, and Muchu Pichu is never to go there. Why not the same for Venice? Well, Venice now depends on tourists, and if I come again, I’ll come at some unseasonable time—and perhaps deliberately stay in an expensive place, to contribute more to the “wellbeing” of the city. For some reason, the travel agents have booked us from Venezia Mestre to Verona rather than from Venezia San Luccia, the station on the island. Was it simply a mistake, or did the train actually start from Venezia Mestre? We decided to play it safe and take an earlier train to Venezia Mestre, a 10-minute ride. With lots of time to spare we walked out of…