It all started with a roll of the dice (as usual). 1-3, I book a quaint, hopelessly romantic canal-side hotel with gondola rides and heart-shaped chocolates. But a 4-6? We’re talking masquerade parties, clandestine bars, and just enough chaos to make Cupid blush. The dice cast their verdict: six.
So, here I am, stepping off the train at Santa Lucia station into what might be the world’s most romantic city… but trust me, it’s about to get a whole lot less innocent.
Day 1: Gondolas and Gaudy Masks
No time to waste. The dice demanded I dive straight into Venetian culture—or at least, what the brochure told me Venetian culture should be. I found a gondolier who looked suitably shady, negotiated a rate (or tried to; he out-negotiated me), and hopped aboard.
As we drifted under ancient bridges, I rolled the dice:
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Odd = give my best (worst) rendition of “O Sole Mio.”
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Even = whip out a bottle of Prosecco I stashed in my backpack.
Naturally, I landed on even. Cue me popping the cork, nearly knocking the gondolier off balance, and proceeding to toast random tourists gawking from the Rialto Bridge. The Valentine’s month spirit might be floating in the air, but I was definitely sinking fast into boozy delirium.
That night, the dice ordered me to pick up a full carnival mask—gaudy feathers and all—and hit the nearest bar. Let’s just say my arrival got me a few raised eyebrows, an impromptu dance-off, and a phone number scrawled on a cocktail napkin. Off to a promising start.
Day 2: Lost in the Labyrinth
Venice is a maze of narrow alleys and hidden squares, so it was only natural I let the dice decide which random backstreet I’d explore. After a few lefts, rights, and near-dips into the canal, I stumbled onto a tiny bacaro (wine bar) filled with locals. Perfect.
The bartender’s eyes widened at my flamboyant mask. I ordered a round of cicchetti (Venetian tapas) and something strong—grappa, I think. Or was it amaro? Hard to say after the third glass.
Somewhere between the second and third round, I made a spontaneous decision:
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Odds = go find some sweet Valentine’s-themed dessert.
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Evens = crash the nearest masquerade ball.
Guess which side the dice landed on? Next thing I knew, I was weaving my way into a mask-only soirée. Long dresses, black tuxedos, everyone looked like they walked straight off a renaissance painting—except me. I was decked out in jeans, a battered backpack, and a mask that looked like a Mardi Gras reject. Did I stand out? Absolutely. Did I care? Not one bit.
Day 3-4: Carnival Craziness
Venice’s carnival season was in full swing, which means the city was even more chaotic than usual. Street performers, confetti, and costumed revellers covered every inch of pavement. The dice demanded I join in.
I found a couple of local party animals who invited me to a secret party along the Grand Canal. One roll of the dice, and I was sneaking into a centuries-old palazzo, champagne flute in hand, dancing to techno versions of classical waltzes.
Things got… interesting. I vaguely remember a conga line through the courtyard, a scandalous flirtation with someone in a cat mask (still don’t know their name), and me offering to teach the entire party a drinking game that involved rolling dice and taking shots of limoncello. Let’s just say it ended with everyone’s masks slightly askew and a round of applause when the local police turned up.
Day 5: Romantic Cruise or Raging Bash?
By now, Valentine’s month was in full swing—couples holding hands on bridges, heart-shaped balloons dotting St. Mark’s Square, and overpriced roses everywhere. The dice gave me a tough choice:
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1-3 = Hop on a classic, romantic dinner cruise.
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4-6 = Track down an off-the-grid speakeasy rumored to serve absinthe cocktails strong enough to knock Cupid off his cloud.
The dice showed no mercy: six. The speakeasy quest began. I ventured down a suspicious alleyway, rapped on a hidden door, and recited a password I found from some local who was three spritzes in.
Inside, candlelight flickered off ancient stone walls, jazz music played softly, and bartenders in Venetian masquerade masks poured out drinks that glowed green under the low lighting. Let’s just say a few absinthe shots in, and I was dancing on a table, proclaiming my undying love to Venice, Valentine’s month be damned.
Reflections from the Canals
Five days, who-knows-how-many dice rolls, and an unholy amount of prosecco later, Venice showed me its most romantic, most mysterious—and definitely its most debauched—side. From secret palazzo parties to midnight gondola rides, it’s a city that can seduce you in a hundred ways.
The dice? They led me through twisting alleys, into hidden bars, and right onto the dance floors of masquerade balls I had no business attending. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
So here’s to Venice in Valentine’s month—where lovers hold hands, masks hide sins, and one reckless Diceman chases chaos one roll at a time. Until the next city (and the next dice roll), I’ll be here, swirling a glass of amaro, watching the gondolas drift by, and thanking the dice for another glorious mess.
— The Diceman
