Previously in 1982, Colleen rearranged her dorm room and met her lively new Japanese roommate, Ayumi. After a failed attempt at mastering a balcony hammock, Colleen found herself daydreaming about Connor and wondering if the other footballers were talking about her.
The first eight chapters of Kindling will release to all subscribers on Tuedays and Thursdays each week. Starting with Chapter 9, only paid subscribers can see past the preview.
Chapter 8: Marcus and Leenie
Venice, Italy – August 2025
Five hours of napping and a couple of aspirin later, Leenie and Marcus laced up their walking shoes and headed to the bus station to ride a vaporetto to Venice. A floating bus the size of two bowling alleys pulled up. With the flurry of tourists, they stepped down to the seats.
Languages ribboned through the air. Italian. German. Japanese. Arabic. Luckily, the announcer included English when instructing riders where to disembark.
The vaporetto entered Venice’s Grand Canal, passing under Calatrava Bridge where tourists posed, snapping selfies on the stone and glass steps, the sleek railings keeping them from falling into the canal.
Leenie breathed in deeply. “We did it honey. We’ve retired. We crossed the finish line. We’re in Venice. We’re in VENICE!”
Marcus squeezed her hand. Baroque, Renaissance, and Gothic buildings reached up to the sky from the water’s edge as the boat serpentined through the canals of Venice. Smaller traghettis scurried locals across the canals, while fancy black gondolas with golden trim piloted by men wearing the classic red-and-white tops ferried tourists. Vibrant pink bougainvillea spilled from windowsill pots. Leenie’s skin prickled as the salty air coated her arms.
They disembarked at San Marco basin, eyeing the Doge’s Palace. Its three ornate tiers of pink and white diamonds atop arches and columns caused Marcus to clear his throat, a telltale sign to Leenie that a limerick was coming.
“There once was a girl from Cali
Who dreamed of going to Bali
But instead without malice
Discovered an Italian Palace
And found it was where she could dally.”
“I think you’re still jetlagged,” said Leenie.
Marcus spied a sign for a walking tour through the Jewish Ghetto. In a country where the Vatican centered it, he expressed his surprise to Leenie that he didn’t expect any other religions to appear there. He scanned the reviews online of the tour and discovered that the walk was off the beaten path and where most tourists didn’t go. “Perfect,” he told Leenie.
They met up with the tour guide, a 22-year old student studying Jewish History at Venice International University, and twenty other tourists. In a cramped public square, the guide shared how the word “ghetto” originated in Venice, and the ghetto where they currently stood was the first to dictate where Jews could live, starting in the 16th century. The tour continued around a Holocaust memorial, past antique stores with hand-blown glass chess boards, and near five historic skolas, or synagogues. They ended at the Panificio Volpe Giovanni, a Jewish bakery, a perfect place to take a break.
Marcus ordered the two traditional lemon flavored biscotti esse and two caffès. They stood at the bar, enjoying their treat while making plans for the rest of the day.
“Marcus, look at me. I know it’s a tourist trap. But I want to take a gondola ride. I mean, we’re in VENICE!” Leenie said.
She watched Marcus fidget, likely doing the math on the 80 euro price-tag. “I think they’re like $100 for thirty minutes. Do you think it’s worth it?”
“We didn’t squeeze into economy class to miss the budget on the dream items,” he said.
They finished their treats and meandered to the canal, finding the gondola stop. Several gondoliers queued, assisting passengers onto their watery chariots. Picking one was hard, as every gondolier dressed the same in his traditional uniform. Yet some boats had red velvet benches and a few had flowers draped around the edges.
Right as they were about to decide, a gondola glided up piloted by a woman. They heard one of the tourists in line grumble, “I hope we don’t get that lady. I want the full traditional experience.”
“I want her!” exclaimed Leenie. They swapped places with the grumbler.
Marcus glanced at the narrow gondola bench then back at Leenie then back at the bench, frowning and showing a clear look of doubt. He stayed quiet. Leenie had dreamed about this experience for years, and frankly, nothing was going to keep her from enjoying it. “Let me help you,” he said.
They stepped into the gondola. The boat wobbled, but the pilot knew perfectly how to position herself so they would easily transition from land to water. Leenie and Marcus sat down, fitting comfortably.
Their float began, but first Leenie wanted the backstory of Venice’s only gondoliera, Giorgia Boscolo.
“The story is simple,” Giorgia said as her long thin arms moved the oars lithely and her golden hair in a ponytail tied with a red ribbon swished. The gondola glided among the other water traffic. “My father was a gondolier, and now I’m one. He supported me. We had to fight a few of the locals, but in the end, here I am.”
Leenie imagined that the fight might have been difficult. After all, Italy was slow to let go of the patriarchy, but she thought it’d be best to let Giorgia share the story the way she wanted.
And so they continued along their way. Leenie and Marcus relaxed into the red tufted bench and listened to Giorgia describe the ride. Rather than discuss the buildings, she pointed out where her cousins, aunt, brother, parents, grandmother, and niece lived. All within two canals of each other. Each Sunday, they gathered at their grandmother’s for dinner. The ladies would hand make the pasta together in the kitchen while the men bottled the family’s wine vinted from their own grapes. She never missed the weekly ritual.
As the float came to its end, Giorgia quieted. Leenie appreciated the experience she’d shown even though Giorgia had only been on the water for fifteen years. Clearly, she knew the silence often creates the best experience for her riders.
Marcus turned to Leenie. “For 38 years I’ve been trying to write a Leenie limerick,” he said as he watched the canal go by. “Still haven’t figured it out.”
“It’s because nothing rhymes with Leenie,” his wife said.
“Teenie, meanie. No, it’s that I can’t find the last line. Every time I think I’ve got it, it’s not enough.”
Leenie smiled. When Marcus got serious, it always made her laugh because his seriousness came off so unexpectedly. He was always the light hearted one who rarely showed his feelings.
“I know. I love you too,” she said as she took a selfie of the three of them. Then she posted the picture to the Nomad Life group with the comment,
Best day ever.
Next: The story rewinds to Bucharest to uncover the growing tension regarding Scott and Kelly’s long-term travel plans.
Author Notes:
Like Leenie and Marcus, we jumped at the chance to take a gondola ride in Venice. Steve was hesitant about the price, too, but in the end, it was the best $100 we’ve ever spent on a tourist trap. We loved every minute of it. Don’t hesitate.
P.S. Starting with Chapter 9 on Tuesday, you must be a paid subscriber to continue reading Kindling. The fun is just starting. The relay launches soon; and you’ve got 4 more characters to meet. Upgrade now.
A truly magical city and wonderful experience for our newly retired travelers. I can't wait to read where they go next, or maybe they decide to stay in Italy?
Venice comes alive in this chapter!