The Great Train Incident, and Arrival in Venice

That sounds ominous. Happy to say, it isn't. I did, however, have a small train incident (or two) along the way. That ticket machine, while rather helpful, does not give copious amounts of details regarding layovers when changing trains. As in none. I trust that it knows what is going on, and I suppose it does, as long as trains are on time. Well, the Bolzano-Verona run wasn't as fast as anticipated I suppose, and we pulled in to Verona probably just as the Verona-Vicenza run left the station.
Can the second ticket be used again? I suppose so. While the first leg ticket actually has specific train details on it, the second is an open ticket, good for any run of that departure/arrival combination (I think), but...on that train type? Recall that there are Regular, Intercity, Eurostar, etc runs available. Not knowing, I look at the info/ticketing area, which is chock full of people queued up for tickets. I look at my Rick Steves book, which says that refunds are long and complicated. I look at the ticket, and the 4 Euro price, and finally look at the trash bin. In she goes, and I buy a ticket for the next train out (15 minutes later, but a different train type than my previous ticket). I'll have to ask about that sometime.
And it's a good thing I buy the ticket. While most train rides start and end with no site of a conductor, this time one does come by, looking for valid tickets. Without one, I'd be out a pretty good chunk of coin (more than my still-jingling Pirate's Booty, I can tell you). Conductor takes ticket, and points out that, in my haste, I forgot to validate it before getting on the train (thus making it good for that particular trip). I stammer out a bunch of stuff in English, and he shakes his head at me, and lets me off that hook. It's good to look so pathetic sometimes.
Now, Vicenza (Veh-CHEN-zah, if you're wondering), is a quick stop along the way. The home of the famous Palladio (if you haven't heard of him, you might have heard of the Palladian style of architecture), there's a pile of Palladian palaces and places to peek at and perambulate about. I was there for the quick tour, which meant the Olympic Theater.
One of the oldest indoor theaters left, this has seating in the old Roman style (semi-circular benches), with a central stage and a backdrop using tricks of perspective to appear to be streets of Naples. Or Florence. Or something like that. Very cool, and worth the stop in itself. One day I'll post some pictures. Finished up there, and zipped up to see the local cathedral dedicated to a local saint (sorry. didn't go in, so my memory for that name is about the same as for any of the people I meet along the way...). I found it somewhat humorous that next to the cathedral was the "Minerva Bar", serving up libations to whoever still worships that pre-christian god, I suppose. But next to that was the museum of archeology, where I perused dead Roman soldiers from the time BC (they would no doubt hang at the Minerva Bar, given the chance), and a bunch of reaaally old stuff (stone venus idols, that kind of thing). It's the Discovery Channel in real life! But time was tickin', so back towards the train staion I go. Stopping for another capucchio, of course. A little miffed, I got, as I saw a decent print of Palladian stuff alng the way, but the store had no shipping tubes. I made my mental note to find one of those for future use, then made it to the station, huffing and puffing with my back pack on my back. I buy my ticket to Venice, and head out to the tracks to wait. About now I check my ticket against the big departures schedule, and see that although I chose the earlier departure, I am actually on the milk run and will get there a half hour later than I could have. Oh well, I saved a few bucks on the cheap train.
On the other hand, that train being populated chiefly, it seems, by a fourth-grader field trip, I got to endure an hour of screaming children. Screaming children sound very much the same in Italian as they do in English. I could even make out the repitition after a while.
Well, we finally arrive in Venice Proper (the St Lucia station, on the island), and I realize that I have about 45 minutes to get to my hotel before they lock up for the night. I buy a map, and the three-day vaporetto (boat bus) pass, then jump on the #82 fast boat to St Marco square, where I will be living (well, near there, unless I miss my hotel check in time...). In my haste, I choose the wrong #82, of course, which, although it makes no real difference in arrival time, means the route is outside Venice's Grand Canal, and out in the industrial lagoon. Sigh.
Well, we make it out and around, with brief glimpses of the grandeur of the main city, then all of a sudden come around to the square.
Which is awesome. And there are tourists everywhere. I haven't seen those anywhere else in my travels thus far. Loads of asians, clicking away furiously with their digital SLRs. Made me feel at home.
We deboat (if you can detrain, and deplane, you can deboat), and I have Teri out, locked in to the hotel location, and off I go. Only being 300 meters from the dock, I did not have far to go. It was down an extremely narrow alley, though, which I probably would have missed. But there it was, and there waiting for me was, well, kind of a cutey patootey on the late shift. She checks me in (but doesn't check me out), and I'm free to find my next capuccio, panini, beer and/or (but probably and) wine. I do a quick tour around the square to get my bearings, then settle down to a gorgonzoli pasta thing with salad and wine and tiramisu... Oh my. I take another walk about to settle down the feed, and head back to the hotel to see if the... oh, who am I kidding. If she told me her name I'd probably forget it anyways.