Here's a riddle for ya: How many vagabonds does it take to find a Venetian campground?
Answer: Apparently, six. With five different nationalities.
"Camping in Venice" sounds a little oxymoronic, but staying in a little tent in Camping Rialto on the mainland of the city wound up being one of the best parts of the trip. After spilling out into the street by the train station, Alvaro and I asked multiple Italians (in Spanish; I learned they are basically the same language!) if they had heard of the campground. After four or five "No"s, we finally got a "Si." Our next inquiry, its location, was slightly more difficult. We were told, all in all, to take at least three different bus routes... and of course, the bus schedule, like the rest of everything we experienced in Italy, was more a rough possibility than a reliable rule.
After waiting too long with too many pounds on our backs, we thanked someone who'd been quite helpful and informed him that we were just going to hoof it. The response: "Rialto is like ten kilometers away, friends! There's no way you can walk there (insert dramatic hand gestures here)!" Let me tell you something. Walking is free, sexy, and better for the environment. If you have functioning legs and a good heart, never let anyone tell you can't walk somewhere (unless of course the route in question would take you into highly violent gang territory. Then please, please don't walk there.).
One block later, we caught up with fellow backpackers, Jeanne and Leo (a French/Columbian couple). They had also grown weary of Italian bus nonsense and decided to trek. Their destination? Also the infamous Camping Rialto! After continuing for 30 more minutes and getting turned around once or twice, we encountered (insert hard-to-prounounce-and-even-harder-to-spell Polish names here). After about three hours of hiking (or dragging, rather, and asking directions at the wrong campground), we stumbled, exhausted, into the right one.
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