The Vanishing Waterland--informative essay on Venice and my experince there.

The Vanishing Waterland
Out of breath and relieved, I plopped down in the closest seat to the window. My boyfriend Andy and I barely made it to our train because the lazy alarm failed to get us out of bed. We were seated in a six-person compartment on the train, accompanied by two older women in their sixties wearing mink coats. In the seat next to them was an older man with a thick German accent. The aged architecture of Vienna faded into the overcast sky as the train set out for Italy. The movement of the train rocked me to sleep while I was imagining what the city intertwined in canals…