Wednesday we went to Vicenza by train to look at the town and try to see some buildings by the Renaisance architect Palladio. Walking around town the lack of flatness seemed disorienting after our time in Venice. With one exception the Palladio buildings that we tried to see were inaccessible. The exception was the Villa La Rotonda, about 2 miles from the town center, situated on a hill top. It was opened to the public on Wednesdays for a few hours, and worth a visit. One sees only the first floor, but this gives a good idea of the building which was, perhaps, an inspiration for Jefferson's Monticello. The building conveys an elegant symmetry. 

Thursday evening we continued a small tradition of going to Harry's Bar for a martini and dinner. This small restaurant near San Marco was a favorite of Hemingway. And on Friday we took another walk in various neighborhoods for our last time on this visit. We located the hotel where we stayed the first time we visited Venice. I did not remember that it was a one star place. We have moved up a few stars, but not many. We found again a small plaque near San Marco that commemorates an event in 1310 when a woman threw a bowl of hot soup out of a window to stop a rebellion. She became a local hero. To us this illustrates the dense history of the place.

While on this trip I have been also reading, or trying to read, an Italian novel. The novel is by an Indian writer now living in Trieste. (I will probably finish it when I return.) The novelist is Laila Wadia, and the book is called "Amiche per la pelle", or roughly, "Sisters under the skin". It deals with 4 poor women, foreigners, who live with their families in a small ramshackle apartment building in Trieste. The protagonist is Indian and the other three are from China, Albania, and Bosnia. They become friends and have various small adventures while dealing with their lives. The book has a Triestine flavor and also involves larger themes including the Risiera di San Sabba, which was the only concentration camp on Italian soil; the struggles of the Bosnian woman in dealing with her own latter day holocaust; and the struggles of assimilation in a foreign (namely, Italian) situation. The book was suggested to me by a friend who lives in London. Reading it has been a perfect complement to our Adriatic journey. 

Villa La Rotonda

Gondolas on a canal

The revolution is thwarted by a pot of soup