The previous night we had arrived at the Crown Plaza hotel just outside of Venice, Italy. Scott had discovered a great trick to visiting this city: stay at an off island hotel. This hotel is a reasonably priced 4 star business hotel with direct access, by way of a 20 minute €3 train, to the main island. Granted its not as romantic as staying on Venice island, but who cares, we're both guys, this wasn't a romantic trip.

We had both slept a little later than expected. I tried to time my sleep patterns on the plane to limit my jet lag, but the fact is we were both running sluggish on our first day. By 10am we were able to get moving and catch a quick train.

The train into Venice is a very unique experience. You head southeast away from the mainland into the open ocean. If you look out the left window, all you see is seawater rolling past. The right window reveals a three car highway which is sometimes packed with cars, but this morning the traffic was surprisingly light.

Once you find your way out of Venezia S. Lucia station you are now unmistakably in Venice. The first thing to catch your eye is the water. The Grand Canal is just a few steps away and you can no longer escape the water in this city.

Not only was the water separating the buildings, it was also coming from the skys. We had arrived during a thunder storm. As we started to travel further into the city, we were offered to purchase umbrellas. No thank you, we'll just enjoy the experience.

We really didn't care it was raining, and apparently it worked to our advantage. The walkways were empty, the air smelled great and we actually met a couple of cute girls who were just as lost as we were. What's not to like about rain in Venice?

After happily getting lost several times we eventually found the oldest bridge in Venice, the Rialto. This is a centrally located bridge which connects the west side of Venice to the east. Originally it was wooden, built in 1255 as a replacement to a floating bridge. Today it is a concrete market filled with shops and cigar parlors but still provides amazing views of the Canal.

A short walk lead us to a wedding ceremony outside the Chiesa di San Salvador, a church constructed back in 1177. This will be a recurring theme during my stories of Europe. Nearly every building, every statue, every monument is older than America. Humbling.

Eventually we reached our target, Piazza San Marco. I knew what was coming, so I sneaked ahead and grab a shot of Scott's face as he entered the square. San Marco is a very impressive open space, especially when you consider we have been walking down very small alleys and finding water at nearly every turn. I think this shot explains a lot.

First HDR of this trip, The Campanile

My eyes had much more focus, the Campanile. As any long term reader of this blog will know, I always try to push my friend Scott to conquer his fears during our travels, and in doing so I also conquer my own. I find the tallest structure around and if there is a way up, we're going.

What readers may not know is that as I get older, I am finding that I don't terribly enjoy heights anymore. This has never been a problem for me until a few years ago when I skydived over the swiss alps. The moment I left the plane I feared I had done something wrong and was now falling to my death. It is an irrational fear that I now have to deal with.

Saint Mark's Square, as its known in english, is a large expanse of open air, dominated by the Basilica di San Marco and the Campanile. We had only seen a few people up to this point. Turns out, this is where all the people were hiding. Also, all the pigeons.

The Basilica di San Marco is the largest church in Venice, and unfortunately a huge tourist attraction. After walking around the square, taking it all in, we decided to jump in the line and check out the inside. I have no pictures from inside the church, a habit I got into a long, long time ago. However, a few cities later, I would soon break this habit.

Inside the basilica is an opulent display of the church's wealth, a representation of it's followers' dedication. The pure amount of time it must have taken to build each individual detail is a testament in and of itself. The current building was built in 832, after relics were stolen from Alexandria by local Venetian merchants. Everything in Italy is very, very old.

My eyes could not stop scanning. Neither the gold nor marble could hold my attention for long. I needed to find a way off the ground floor and into something more exciting. That's when I saw it, a line coming from the corner with a small sign that read "terrace view."

The church seems to have figured this out long ago: build amazing buildings in fantastic locations and charge a few dollars for guests to walk out onto the terrace to enjoy the view.

The floor of the terrace is marble and leans outward at an angle to keep the water from pooling near the building. To make matters worse for Scott, it was wet due to the morning's rain which made it extremely precarious to walk on. Additionally, the marble is severely chipped and cracked after centuries of wear and tear. To my amazement Scott walked right up to the edge to pose for a picture. I would like to say I helped him conquer his fears, but that's all his doing. Well done señior.

All this excitement had worked up an appetite so we left the church in search lunch. Still fighting the rain, we quickly ducked into the nearest pizzeria. This would be one of dozens of pizzerias during this trip. The bread was warm, seasoned and delicious, and a stand out snack however quick it may have been.

With our bellies full and little else on the day's plan, we headed back into the piazza for some R&R. Just as we took a seat on the west end of St. Mark's Square, the rain stopped and the sun came out. As if on cue the entire crowd let out an audible sigh, followed by a commune of laughter and applause. The scene was both majestic and inspiring.

Heading south we crossed over the Ponte dell'Accademia bridge, a bridge still constructed from wood. I am very familiar with this bridge, and it holds a special place in my heart. As we passed over the canal and walked past the Hotel Galleria, I could not help but to regale Scott with stories of a long lost love... A love I would think about for the rest of my stay in Italy.

Struggling with my own thoughts, we continued to Café Laguna, the best coffee shop on the southern most edge of Venice's main island. There were no more bridges to cross, no more land to cover, nothing more than a warm sun and a beautiful view.

With a deep breathe, and some coffee, we headed back to our refuge...

Well I have just recovered from my second migraine. My first was about a year ago down in Costa Rica, and lasted 11 days. This one, thankfully, only lasted about half a week. My friend Scott deals with migraines on a regular basis, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Enough about that... Let's get on with the stories!

As is my usual style, I waited until the very last minute for a lot of things before this trip. You know, little things, like renewing my passport! New Zealand immigration laws require that your passport be valid for at least 90 days past your expected departure date. Since I would not be departing that country until mid November, and my passport was up in January, I had to rush and expedite the renewal process. My new passport arrived in mid-September, just in-time for my October 5th departure for Italy.

With that out of the way, I could focus on more important items, like shopping, a hair-cut, and packing. I bought some new white deck shoes just for the trip. I figured they looked "very european." As I tried to break them in over the next few days, stupidly without wearing socks, they cut my heals up pretty bad. Dumb move. I ended up leaving them at home and brought more band-aids instead.

I decided to save a little money and gave myself a fresh buzz cut the day before I left. This went fine, but gave me very little time to pack, which I had not started yet. Perhaps this was not such a hot idea, since I would be gone for a month and a half and visiting both the northern and southern hemispheres.

Doing well so far.

The morning of October 5th I found myself wide awake long before the sun woke up. I had managed to pack two bags, one for Italy and one for New Zealand. The plan was to swap them out when I flew from Italy back to LA, during my eight hour layover.

A few hours before my ride to the airport, I had this overwhelming feeling that I was not bringing enough clothes to Italy. I jumped up and hastily emptied both bags, sorted through the mess and created one giant bag. I had a new, brilliant plan.

I would unpack my enormous bag during my layover, do some laundry, swap out a few small items that I would only need in New Zealand, and repack everything... we'll find out just how well that plan worked later.

As time went on, while I waited for my ride, I started to look around the house for anything I might have missed. Oh, I can fit this... Wait, what if I need this... Well if I brought this, I can bring that... It was the result of a poorly prepared packing job, and it continued to the very last minute.

My parents arrived right on-time, ready to take me to LAX, and I was forced to leave whatever I had missed behind. They had already picked up my traveling buddy Scott, and it was still early in the morning, so the four of us made great time getting up to the airport. So quickly that we had several hours before either of us were scheduled to fly.

Scott & I were flying different airlines with me leaving first, then him later. We had a few hours to kill, and he was able to switch to a much earlier flight. However, because he would be delayed twice on this new route due to weather conditions, he would arrive several hours after I checked into the hotel in Venice. It was not a race, but I totally won.

But, I digress. For me it was smooth sailing departing from LA, transferring in Detroit, then Paris, and finally touching down in Venice. The European Union has recently changed their immigration rules, I found out. Since I had cleared customs in Paris and received a French stamp in my passport, I would not receive an Italian stamp in Venice. Bummer.

Needless to say it had been a long day, covering 6,448 miles over 16 hours and 9 time zones. I was anxious to get to the hotel. I had several options available for transportation once I left the airport terminal; bus, shuttle, walk. In the end I simply hailed a cab, paid more than I should have, and quickly checked into the room for a much needed shower. No sense in messing around.

This, after all, was just the beginning.