How to Appreciate the Hell Out of Some Art

For the next few days, Jack Sh*t is chronicling his adventures on his recent trip to Italy as well as including tips to help you plan your own international travel. It is his special way of saying "Nanna nanna boo boo, I went to Italy!" to all his loyal readers.

 Would you like to learn how to appreciate the hell out of some art, especially if you find yourself (as I did) gazing at some of the world’s most famous masterpieces?

Fantastic! You’ve come to the right place, my friend. Appreciating the hell out of some art is just a matter of asking yourself a few simple questions about each piece as you look at it…

• Does it express successfully what it’s intending to express?

• Does it amaze me in a different way each time I look at it?

• Does the piece provide a glimpse of the time in which it was created?

• Does its visual impact of mysterious, pure power increase as I look at it?

• Is it unforgettable?

• How dead is this artist?

• Have I ever heard of him before?

• Are they doing something terrible to Jesus?

• Is there lots of fancy gold in the painting?

• Is the frame ornate as all get-out?

• Is everybody else nodding and admiring it?

• Is some snooty professor-looking dude with horn-rimmed glasses pontificating about it?

• Isn’t he pompous?

• Don’t you hate him?

• Do they have a concession stand here?

• Do you think they sell Raisinets?

• How could I get a job sitting around playing games on my phone while I “guard” art?

• What if I stole a famous masterpiece, but then grew to love it so much that I just wanted to hang it up in my bedroom and admire it all the time?

• What would they do if I took out a Sharpee and started drawing Hitler mustaches on all the angels?

• I wonder what I’m missing on TV?


Remember, when you're appreciating the hell out of some art, it's not the answers that are important... it's the questions!

Now go hit up a museum!

Postcards from Florence

For the next few days, Jack Sh*t is chronicling his adventures on his recent trip to Italy as well as including tips to help you plan your own international travel. It is his special way of saying "Nanna nanna boo boo, I went to Italy!" to all his loyal readers.

The Crazy Adventure Getting to Florence

For the next few days, Jack Sh*t is chronicling his adventures on his recent trip to Italy as well as including tips to help you plan your own international travel. It is his special way of saying "Nanna nanna boo boo, I went to Italy!" to all his loyal readers.

Crap! We forgot to have a crazy adventure getting from Venice to Florence. What’s the deal with that? Doesn't Italy know I have a travel blog I need to make more entertaining?

But nooooooooo… my wife Anita and I simply take the waterbus from our hotel straight to the train station, buy a ticket from an actual person and have seats sitting right beside each other. This is gonna be the worst post ever!

We make it to Florence and make the 11-minute walk to the hotel in just over 20 minutes. It’s our personal best!

We’re right down the street from the Duomo (The Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore) and a massive hoard of tourists but we’ve made it here with our luggage and at least some of our money.

When’s the Best Time For a Gondola Ride? Right This Very Second!

For the next few days, Jack Sh*t is chronicling his adventures on his recent trip to Italy as well as including tips to help you plan your own international travel. It is his special way of saying "Nanna nanna boo boo, I went to Italy!" to all his loyal readers.

 

Every time my wife Anita and I spoke to a gondolier while in Venice, he assured us that that very moment was the best time to take a gondola ride.

10 a.m.? The perfect time! You beat the crowds!

1:30 p.m.? The ideal time! Everyone’s at lunch so you get a better deal!

4:45 p.m.? No time perfecter! Everyone else is preoccupied buying genuine Italian glass made in China!

We finally broke down and took a gondola ride. I mean, you have to! It’s Venice, for God’s sake! Yes, it’s touristy and cost too much, but you just have to do it.


Do’s and Don’t of Gondola Rides in Venice

DO negotiate for the cost, details and duration of your ride.

DON’T pay with a jar of pennies and nickels.

DO ask your gondolier to sing a beautiful Italian ballad.

DON’T ask your gondolier to riverdance.

DO sit back and enjoy the splendor of an old-world tradition.

DON’T engage in gondola races along the Grand Canal.

DO nod in appreciation when the gondolier tells you that you’re passing the home of Marco Polo.

DON’T ask if he’s the dude that invented that pool game.

DO use this as an opportunity to practice your Italian.

DON’T use this as an opportunity to join the “Rock the Gondola” club.

DO offer a friendly wave to folks on bridges as you go beneath.

DON’T scream out “LOOK AT ME! I’M ON A GONDOLA, BITCHES!”

The Really Good Restaurant Adventure

For the next few days, Jack Sh*t is chronicling his adventures on his recent trip to Italy as well as including tips to help you plan your own international travel. It is his special way of saying "Nanna nanna boo boo, I went to Italy!" to all his loyal readers.

 Mostly our eating plan while on our Italian vacation has been (a) to stop someplace that looks pretty good when we’re hungry and/or (b) stop someplace that looks really good whether we’re hungry or not.

However, I had some across a tremendously well-reviewed restaurant that my wife Anita and I were dying to try.

I wasn’t sure either of us was going to have much of an appetite after visiting the Rialto Street Market, a huge collection of vendors peddling fresh fruits, vegetables and seafood. The appetite-killer was the little butcher shop that appeared to specialize in horse-meat. Giddy-up!

After a morning wandering through the market and an afternoon of more ancient church visiting (and stair-climbing), we decide to make our way to the restaurant for an early dinner.


All the guidebooks tell you one of the things to do in Venice is to “get lost”. Seeing as how the “streets” appear to be designed by a committee of lunatics, we have no trouble at all following this advice. As a matter of fact, we appear to spend most of our time fully dazed and disoriented.

I finally bite the bullet and turn on the data roaming on my iPhone, with the full understanding that it’s probably going to cost my daughter Pisa her college education. Thankfully, the phone’s GPS figures out where we are and leads us to our destination straightaway.

Unfortunately, it’s 5:30 and the restaurant doesn’t open until 7 p.m. Hungry and dejected, we wander over to a neighborhood park and hang out for a bit, watching some local kids race scooters around and older folks let their dogs visit the one phone-booth-sized square of grass in the area.

We get back to the restaurant right as it opens and, of course we hear the inevitable “Do you have a reservation?”

Whoops.

Apparently other people read reviews, too, and the place is booked for both tonight and tomorrow night, our last night in Venice. Anita has the good sense to check on lunch the next day (they do).

The next day, we give ourselves plenty of time to find the spot again. However, we spent so much time around the restaurant yesterday that we know it like the back of our hand. We walk straight to the place, and wind up getting there over an hour early. Are you kidding me?

We head back to our park to kill another 75 minutes, and I start getting worried that the expectations for this meal can’t possibly live up to all the time we’ve invested in it. This is setting up to be a disaster.

 

  

An hour or so later, we’re at our table and purring over a cheese plate and tapping our sparking prosecco glasses together. We’ve declared this our honorary 25th wedding anniversary meal.

No, it’s not a late-night candle-lit dinner, but like our marriage it may be unconventional at times, it may be something that we’ve had to work at sometimes and… it’s everything we hoped it would be.

Cheers!

More Italian Food Porn

Eat Some Moré

When in Venice, you should try
Some of their pizza pie.

Eat some moré.

In my word you can trust.
Try the thin, crispy crust.

Eat some moré.



Menus come.
Yumma-yumma-yum
Yumma-yumma-yum.
Eat it up, that’s my motto .

Pour some wine.
Diney-diney-dine.
Diney-diney-dine.
Let’s get some gelato.
 


If you wanna drool,

Order pasta fazool.

Eat some moré
Every place, every street
Has great things you can eat,
Food you’ll love.

When they bring out some cheese, 

You’ll say, bring out more please, signoré

‘Scusami, but you see,

Where’s my ravioli?
Eat some moré.



Here in Venice, you should try
Even more pizza pie.

Eat some moré.
Eat some moré.


Tell the waiter, you’re ready
For another plate of spaghetti.
Eat some moré.


Eat some moré.



Desserts come.
Yumma-yumma-yum.
Yumma-yumma-yum.
And you’ll yell, “Holey moley”
What are you looking for?
Gimme-gimme-more.
Gimme-gimme-more.
Fresh cannoli!

Hungry fella.



If you’re still hungry, boss,
Order pasta with sauce.
Eat some moré (Eat some moré)

Enjoy all that you want

In your favorite restaurant,
That you love.

When they bring out some cheese,

You say, bring out more please, signoré.

‘Scusami, but you see,
Where’s my ravioli?
Eat some moré.

Postcards from Venice

Nearly Sunk in Venice

For the next couple of weeks, Jack Sh*t is chronicling his adventures on his recent trip to Italy as well as including tips to help you plan your own international travel. It is his special way of saying "Nanna nanna boo boo, I went to Italy!" to all his loyal readers.

 The moment I stepped outside the train station and viewed the Grand Canal in Venice, one thought ran through my mind: “Why the hell did I lug these heavy golf clubs over here?”

Seriously, Venice is a one-of-a-kind spot. I was going to waste a bunch of time describing it, but instead I think I’ll just include a link to this trippin’ virtual tour.

As we were riding on the water bus to our stop, we realized that our directions to the hotel were… ummm… a little less than specific. As a matter of fact, there was nothing after, “Get off the water bus at such-and-such stop.”

We got off the boat and saw the most impressive churchal structure I think I’ve ever seen. We slipped inside and I fired up my iPad, thinking we could use its GPSishness to locate our destination. Only the battery was on about 1% because I had been watching an entire season of Storage Wars on the train ride over.

So we start wandering the “streets” of Venice, lugging heavy bags down creepy alleyways that I’d never even consider walking down if I were in any other city on earth. After about forty minutes of wandering, Anita ducks into another hotel and asks for help.

Five minutes later, we’re at our hotel without being mugged, spending 500 euros or dropping a suitcase into the water.

This vacation’s looking up!