When the guards woke me on the train to check our passports, my first realisation was that I had been sleeping with my mouth hanging wide open and more than likely drooling. How. Embarrassing. My second realisation was that we must now have crossed the Swiss border into Italy! Looking out the train window we straight away noticed differences compared to rural France and Switzerland in the style of the houses, and Mark pretty quickly noticed the difference in the women (Italians for the win, apparently).

At about 8pm we crossed the bridge into Venice and pulled into the station, so far with quite an ugly view of run down buildings and piles of scrap metal. But we stepped out of the station straight into a movie-like scene. The grand canal, the bridges, the gondolas and the rustic charm of the buildings made us all go 'awwwww!'

We bought a "Rolling Venice' youth card for 4 euro which allowed us to buy a heavily discounted 3 day water bus pass, then jumped on a Rialto bound boat. I don't know what I expected of the famed Rialto bridge - something wooden and cute I think - but in reality it is a big concrete bridge crammed with tourists and stores. We crossed the bridge with map in hand, prepared to get lost as is the done thing in Venice. However, we found our hostel surprisingly quickly.

After showering and settling in, we stepped back out into the paved and winding maze that is Venice, in search of the Italian pizzas we had been dreaming of throughout our long train journey. I thought all Europeans ate a late dinner, but to our surprise and tummy grumbling disappointment, no restaurant would take us at 10pm at night. Instead we found a sandwich bar - still delicious and very cheap - and then went to bed.

We slept in a little, but not to worry because not only does Venice sleep early but they also start late. We still reached St Marcos square before the crowds which allowed us to move quickly through the queues up to the top of the bell tower for a 360 degree view of the floating (sinking) city, and then into the basilica, which was beautiful (loved the different colours/patterns of the marble columns). Unfortunately due to the service that was taking place we only got glimpses of the lower level as we browsed the museum and gazed at the ornate ceiling from the second floor.

We finally got our first taste of Italian pizza at lunchtime, yum! Then a browse through the Rialto markets, where stores start to blend together - limencello, gelato, gorgeous and sometimes freaky Venetian masks, blown glass ornaments, lace fans and array of 'I love Venice' type trash. On every corner Indian men sell little gel pigs that splatter as they hit the ground and then re-form. The first one gives us a giggle and we think our nieces would love them..but after seeing them all over the city I have to wonder how bored these guys must get (drop it, pick it up, drop it, pick it up), how they could possibly feed themselves by selling these, and why none of them get a bit more creative with their demos...

That night we bought a bottle of vodka (Absolut is only 12 euro) and ate dinner in the hostel before heading out around 10pm to check out the casino. Again the Rolling Venice card came in handy, saving us the usual 10 euro entry fee. The casino is small but very elegant with a kind of an underground and intimate feel, and all the men are required to wear a suit jacket. This meant that Gem and I had to leave the boys downstairs while we sought out an ATM for the 50 euro deposit required to borrow a jacket.

Cue Italian-not-quite-Stallions. We hopped in an elevator full of Italian men with slick suits who "Ciao Bella"-d at us then, on finding out we were Australian, started hopping around like kangaroos while another cupped his hands over his ears and said over and over "I'm a Koala". Meanwhile, a casino worker carrying 500 euro offered to split the note with us, pretending to tear it in half. And later, the door man asked us if our men liked to cook, because "I love to cook, I love to cook for you and I love to wash the dishes after," wink wink. Jokesters, these Italians!

After finding the ATM we rejoined the boys who were soon looking sharp in their suits. We had a vino at the bar and then Gem and I perched at one roulette table to watch while the boys wandered the other tables. Gem was feeling her vodkas at this stage so after watching hundreds of Euros being exchanged for chips and then piles of chips being swept away, she exclaimed loudly "Oh they just lost soooo much money!"

"Gem," I said, "dont rub it in!"

"Oh..how do I say I'm sorry in Italian?"

"Mi dispiace," grinned the young Italian man beside us, who then chatted to us while betting and mostly losing, hundreds of Euros. The ball landed on 13, and again he lost almost all of his chips and threw another couple of hundred on the table. "Oh no, that was my lucky number," I said.

"Why didnt you tell me!" he replied, and placed a couple of chips on 13 for the next round. Two rounds passed with more money lost, but on the third spin 13 came up again and he regained a decent pile of chips as Gem and I laughed with excitement. This time he put a massive pile on 13, and I thought 'he's crazy.'

I kid you not, very next spin - 13! Two in a row, three out of five and hundreds of dollars won! As we clapped and laughed he slid a 50 euro chip my way and told me he never bets on 13 so I should have it. When I refused he offered us a drink but by then it was late, so we said goodnight and left on a gambling high. The boys groaned in disbelief that I hadn't accepted the money, but hey, it's a game of chance not skill - it wasn't mine to take. Further into this trip as our funds dwindle, I'm sure I'll be kicking myself...

The next morning we set off for the ferry to Murano, a Venetian island known for producing beautiful hand blown glass. Gem had awoken looking pale and shaky, and on the walk to the ferry suddenly veered off into an alley and brought Team Odgers to a steady lead in the official spew count: 2-0. All credit to her, she still jumped on the ferry and made it across the open water to Murano in a reasonable state.

Here we walked into one of the glass factories and paid 2 euro to watch a demonstration. Amazing stuff! The glassblower quickly crafted a delicate jug from glass with an incredibly high temperature before making a beautifully detailed horse in less than a minute, setting it down and holding a piece of paper to it which burst into flames. Bravo!

After browsing the showrooms, Gem was starting to fade and whimpered a 'go on without me,' so Mark and I hopped on the Ferry to Burano while Ben and Gem stayed on in Murano.

The island of Burano is famous for its lace, and while the museum of lace didn't exactly sound enthralling, I was keen to get my hands on a Venetian lace garter for our eventual wedding (thanks to Em and Gem for the tip off!). To our surprise and delight, instead of an old little town draped in doilies, what we found was an absolutely gorgeous town of canals, flowers and a rainbow of brightly coloured houses. We bought a garter - after searching without result I realised that this risque purchase was found behind the counter only ;-) - and then just wandered the town for a while. After Venice it seemed so open, clean and colourful - a very enjoyable visit that made us really feel that we are in Italy!

Back at the hostel we chatted to the other guests and the football mad (and generally mad) Morrocan fellow who runs it, played some pool and then kicked on into St Margherita, where Lonely Planet had advised has the highest concentration of nightlife. Hm. Disappointing. Note - Venice nightlife is minimal. Mr Morocco had recommended the 'Academia' area for a club, but we hit the hay instead.

By day three, I have to admit, we were all a bit over Venice. The novelty had worn off and we were noticing more just how run down (and often smelly) it is. I was starting to feel a little claustrophobic and bored by the same same scenery. It's only a small place, and probably 2 days is enough. So, we called a 'date day' and went our separate ways; Ben and Gem went to check out Burano, while Mark and I decided to venture out to fair Verona, the setting of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.

Here we planned to visit the house which is said to be the basis for Juliet's house, and also the altar where the lovers died. Now, I'm well aware that it is a bit of a tourist trap - after all it is a work of fiction and apparently the balcony on the house pinpointed as Juliet's was only added in the 1930s. However we still thought it might be interesting to see the town which is said to be very pretty, and also the house as hundreds flock there to write letters to Juliet. A group of volunteers collect these from the walls and write back. Cute.

Massive fail.

As soon as we got to the water taxi it began to rain, then pour, then hail. Gem told us later that from the ferry to Burano they witnessed a tornado. We like to give Gem a bit of a ribbing for her wee tendency toward paranoia/hypochondria, so we all (including Ben who had seen it too) had a chuckle at her and assured her it was just a little waterspout...only to eat humble pie over dinner that night as we saw the news coverage of the Venetian tornado that had damaged boats and homes along the shore. Well whaddya know. Mark and I are forming a bit of a habit of narrowly avoiding natural disasters, riots and so on as we travel, so there's another to add to our path of destruction! Sorry Venice!

Anyhow, Mark and I arrived at the train station with 5 minutes to spare, slid across the wet tiles and raced through the screens on the automated ticket machine only to have it reject our card at the last minute. We had to join the long line to the agent booth instead, and missed our train. This meant another hour's wait (granted, we had already left the hotel hours later than we should have).

At the booth, the agent offered us a normal ticket or an express, with the trains leaving only 10 minutes apart. At this point a Chinese lady sidled up next to us at the window and waved her receipts to ask the agent what an extra cost was for. Commission, the agent said. Chinese lady looked confused. Agent lady stared back at her. "Commission." Chinese lady started to question it again, and before she got two words out, agent lady leant into the microphone and screeched "COMMMMIIIIIIIISSION!Capice?!"

Wowzer. Clearly a well earned commission. The poor Chinese lady scampered off, and the agent turned back to us. "Which ticket?" "The normal one per favore (sir yes ma'am grazie)". All thought of checking the timetables was erased by the rush of the morning, the fact that the normal ticket is a third of the price, and fear of crazy screeching Italian women.

So, at about midday when we get on our train we finally spot a schedule. Crap. So much for winging it. The normal train is also 3 times slower, and by the time we'd reach Verona we would need to jump straight back on a train home. We um and ahhh for about four stations then get off at an abandoned station in the sticks, catch a train back to Venice mainland, wander, realise there is nothing to see, catch a train to the island, grocery shop, get a bit lost and cranky, and arrive back at the hostel at 5pm having accomplished nothing much more than a fail story, although we had a chuckle at ourselves along the way and it was still a nice day with my fiancé (yes fiancé) in the sunshine (yes sunshine, weird weather!)

We then meet back up with Ben and Gem, check out of the hostel and pile onto a sardine bus to the campsite where we will stay one night before Busabout picks us up. We start walking with our heavy packs, my dodgy back starts spasming, we miss our turn and the 15 minute walk becomes a 45 minute trek.

But, we made it and all was forgotten over a cold beer and pizza. We parted with Venice on good terms the following morning, and roamed to Rome!

Ciao Bellas!

Liss xox