Unpacking Italy & Sicily - Part Fourteen
Cruising the Canals of Venice
Buongiorno,
We traveled by private water taxi along Venice’s Grand Canal—the city’s main artery and one of the most iconic waterways in the world. As we cruised past crumbling palazzos and elegant bridges, it was impossible not to be awed by the layered beauty of the place.
The Grand Canal is lined with centuries-old palaces, churches, hotels, and public buildings—many in the Romanesque, Gothic, and Renaissance styles. While few early structures remain intact, there’s been a dedicated effort to preserve some of Venice’s most storied facades. Along the way, we passed construction workers carefully restoring these grand buildings, a quiet reminder that this city is both historic and still very much alive.
Now, I’ve already admitted I’m not much of a history buff—but Venice deserves at least a brief nod to the past that shaped her. Here’s what I discovered...
Venice is built not in the sea, but on a lagoon—a strategic and unlikely choice that served many purposes. During the decline of the Roman Empire, the marshy lagoon offered natural protection from barbarian invaders. Surrounded by water and difficult to access by land, the islands of Venice became a safe haven.
Over time, this lagoon location proved to be not just defensive, but practical. It offered a rich source of fish and shellfish, a vital network for transportation and trade, and even a surprisingly effective way to manage waste—contributing to public health in ways other medieval cities couldn’t match.









Then came the gondola ride.


My biggest fear.
These things look charming, sure—but also incredibly tipsy. I’ve since seen a video where one capsized, leaving its poor occupants flailing in the murky canal water. This is exactly what I imagined could happen to us.
Would I make it in gracefully? Would I tip the whole thing over? Would I be the tourist who went viral for all the wrong reasons?
You know—the kind of spiraling thoughts that often come with doing something new. Or maybe, something you’ve dreamed of doing, but now that the moment’s here, it feels strangely… scary.
But I did it. I took a deep breath, grabbed the gondolier’s hand, and slid (somewhat awkwardly) into the seat. And as we glided under bridges and past sun-dappled walls, something softened in me.
That old dance between fear and joy. The nudge to try anyway. The reminder that returning to wonder often requires stepping through a little discomfort first.









This was our last day of excursions—and what a way to close the tour. Floating through Venice on a gondola felt like the perfect ending: a little magical, a little surreal, and full of quiet beauty.
Tomorrow, I’ll close out this travel series by reflecting on what I learned about myself through this adventure—what I’ll carry forward, and what I’m ready to gently let go of.
Feel the fear and do it anyway?
Is there a travel experience that you allowed yourself to feel the fear and do it anyway?
Hope you'll join us at The Kitchen Table on Friday, June 27th. This month at the Kitchen Table, we gather with suitcases full of stories, hearts cracked open by beauty, and maybe even a little sand still in our shoes.
Inspired by the theme “The Art of Returning,” we’ll explore what it means to come home—not just physically, but emotionally and soulfully—after stepping away from our everyday lives. Whether you’ve recently travelled far or simply taken a pause from routine, time away has a way of shifting something inside us. We’ll reflect on how holidays—of any kind—leave us changed, awakened, softened, and somehow a little more ourselves again.
As always, we’ll share gentle conversation, meaningful reflection, and a creative project to anchor our experience.
This month’s creative invitation:
You’ll be guided in creating a simple handmade card inspired by a travel memory—real or imagined. Your card will serve as a soulful keepsake of a time you felt truly alive and present.
Bring your tea, your stories, and watch for a list of supplies you'll require for the creative project. Let’s gather and gently honor the magic of stepping away—and the beauty of what we find when we return.
Hope you can join us!
Arrivederci!





I had to think about this question for awhile…
And then I remembered my solo road trip from California to Mesa Verde.
I knew that I would be taking the tour at the cliff dwellings that (absolutely) required a climb up a 32 foot ladder. If you cannot do it, you must turn around a go back.
When I faced my first rung I grabbed hold of the sides and stepped firmly on. One at a time, grip-by-grip, step-by-step step, I ascended that ladder. I was so proud of myself; I had conquered the unexplainable, overwhelming fear I had experienced a few years before trying to climb to
the top of a Mesa in New Mexico.
A few years later, I climbed that same ladder again!