We leave the last ferry and take a shuttle to bring us closer to the station and then downtown. The occupant of a tiny kiosk us two rooms in the hotel near Piazza San Marco. The ferry is expensive, but we put out, chilled and loaded, so we offer the route on the Grand Canal. Suffice to say that we do not regret it! To finish this round the world, Venice is a beautiful gift. I had never seen a town so beautiful. Each facade has its golden mosaic, sculpture in marble or ornate balcony. 
The ubiquitous water gives a strange feeling of permanent inundation, or city hoisted the sea floor. Rounding bridges has the grace of a climax at the end of a symphony. Arrived at the hotel, the wonder continues: for the same price as the neutral and functional room that we had next to the train station of Athens (50 euros), we are here in lush pink and lime green, enhanced by the Venetian glass beads that sparkle discreetly around the mirror and ceiling. The bed is soft, hot shower. 
Hungry, However, we do not dwell inside, and veins in the small restaurant recommended by the receptionist. We had lunch with Mary and Fanfan, who are very pleasant company. Spaghetti entry, then salmon, tiramisu for dessert. Ah, the sweet life in Italy! This is especially nice after two days of cold snacks. We split for the ride of the afternoon, each couple in turn, strolling lovers. Despite the cold wind and heavy with rain, Jeremiah and I stay outside, caught the magic. The excess rainfall caused flooding in channels and 
when there is not clever bridges, one a little wet feet. But, without being distracted by the discomfort, we crapahutons entire afternoon, nose in the air and the heart in celebration. It feels like a treasure to discover around every corner: small square, statue, church, canal ... It's hard to imagine the extravagant opulence of the men who built this city. By late afternoon, shivering with cold, we go into dry clothes, before returning to Mary and Fanfan for dinner. Tonight is pizza for them, and lasagna for me, as a digestive walk, we seek a glacier, which we emerge, each with a horn three balls in hand! 
Luckily, the weather is nice, making the waterfront rather nice, although we are delighted by the cornice or crowded cars, nor by the tall buildings that surround it. Besides, we turn our backs to get lost in the contemplation of changing light on the water. Africans are trying to sell bracelets in Brazil. 
Welcome to Europe, right? The Eldorado where people do not talk that through the law? I console myself in the bookstore, where we end still get by. This lovely place, spotlessly tidy, with books well developed, and a lovely saleswoman, remember that there are still pockets of protected stupidity. Though ... Is not this where I catch an old granny trying to fold unobtrusively map she had to tear, to put it back on the shelf as if nothing had happened? Welcome to Europe ... 
The next morning, we enjoy a buffet breakfast, which finally made our peace with Europe, even if the TV and indifference almost rude to the waitress could still give us something to moan. 
Our ferry from Venice to midnight, then we must still kill some time in the departure lounge and duty-free shop full of cigarettes, chocolates and perfumes. When at last we board, truckers are far from finished boarding. We finally leave around 1am. In this season (we're late November), the ferry was almost empty. It does not cross the truckers and a few lonely travelers. The rows of empty seats, the snack bars closed and the sound of our footsteps on the carpet and violets blue, give a strange impression, as if we had embarked on a ghost ship. And it's not warm. Yet I'm amazed: such a nice big boat, I've never seen it! We explore each deck to bottom, only to conclude that there is not much to do except sleep, read and watch the time line in the foam at the stern. 
Fortunately, we meet Mary and Fanfan, who return from a tour stop in Europe. With them, you never get bored! We look at all the ship cast off and away from Patras, lighted at night, seems almost beautiful. In the distance, a bomb is unbelievable suspension bridge above the water. And then it's too cold and too wet, then it goes to sleep. Jeremiah and I set up our sleeping bags on the floor in a corner booths were of course too expensive. Anyway, there is nobody around. Only the bright light bother us a bit. 
They are discreet, but the smell of their sandwiches, garlic sausage, she is not, and sign the end of the night too short. Until the arrival in Venice, they will not budge from their seats, fellows! For our part, we repeat the tour boat, Jeremiah Takes On a karate workout while I Bookish we enjoy a beautiful thinning outdoors to admire the coast of the Adriatic Sea. We also spend some time with Mary and Fanfan, who show us their travel book full of photos and collages. As they have computers and movies, we improvise a movie by placing the computer on a trash can, and we had a good laugh watching the Italian. The day finally happening faster than we had feared. Truckers, meanwhile, is désennuient playing slot machines. 
For the second night on board, Jeremiah and I have located the area of business class, completely empty, and especially in darkness. Here, we are confident of being bothered by neither light nor by Germans eating garlic sausage! When I wash the next day at dawn, in the toilet cubicle equipped with a shower head, I tell myself that I was starting to get used to life onboard. However, most approach the coast, the more I feel excited. I must say that it is hot, jumping around like a flea. Because Venice late November is wet and cold! We stack our beautiful t-shirts, fleece and rain, we realize that we're really not equipped for the European winter. Mary and Fanfan, who themselves, had originally planned to go to Norway, we are like with their huge anoraks who give them the air of divers. The cheeks were whipped by the cold, and we need to regularly take shelter inside to protect us from storms. But gradually, Venice emerges from the mist, gray and inform first, then more precise and polychrome. It's a Sunday morning, and the city seems dead, still in deep hibernation. But suddenly I saw an umbrella that, although open, trotting menu on a bridge arched an eyebrow as surprised. And then the roofs and steeples eventually take shape, a few cables of our ship weighing along the banks at a slow pace, as if to signify his majesty vaporetti face and both his respect for the city ... 
Wenders made a trilogy on wandering, one of whose films is Alice in the Cities where a reporter is given temporary custody of a young girl whose mother does not return. The wandering is what is the movement for anything, walk without end, the match between the melancholy and the vagueness of the physical orientation and mutually reinforcing. It is a pretext for urban adventure, filming the city and the men and said which means discomfort adventure. In my eyes is that Wenders films the best big cities, it has a high sensitivity to street furniture, furniture that can not appropriate and who is playing with us, the bodies are very small, lost in a cold body. 
"There are things we experience, but no way to compose a experience. There are astray and dispersal: there is no match between, On the one hand, what we see and what we believe, and secondly, what we want and what we get. We have been pursuing the task and then abandon it, then we start we stopped, not because experience has reached the end when she was referred company but because of various interruptions or lethargy inside. 
We spend a whole day in the bus station in Antakya, in circles around the slow time, then overnight in a bus queue to Istanbul, which will be our only real step in Turkey this time. These travel times are more akin to a huge transit, which does not prevent us, on arrival, eager to be like devils lurking opening their box. It is with great sadness that we pass the huge suspension bridge over the Bosphorus, where a large sign proclaims "Welcome in Europe." Then you have to stuff an hour of jams before entering a bus station clogged, overflowing from all too many vehicles. The passengers of our bus, which relate to their long weekend packages and packages without end, huddle around the bunker to retrieve their supplies. A bottle of olive oil and spread its contents fell dark and viscous on the tarmac. Mess ... 
A young woman, Funda, with whom we exchanged a few words the night before, understands that we feel a bit lost, and intends to accompany us to the center. Sewing up, she decides to invite us to take breakfast at home. One of his friends, Nejat, came to fetch her, and joins us. I realize with amazement that I am astonished to find friendship between men and women who had disappeared in the Arab world. Here, it is neither uncommon nor frowned but two singles, friends since college, to go off of any marital relationship, in all honor. Psychiatrist, Funda door in front of heavy rings - she has no time to rest between his thesis, the courses it gives to the university, and already the few patients that follows, including an old lady suffering from Alzheimer's disease and who speaks English and French in her sleep. Nejat, meanwhile, unable to assert his degree in physics, joined the Turkish police.
When we arrived at the apartment Funda, we are greeted by Aileen, her little sister, which she carries about a school teacher. 
While she does not speak English, we understand, due to its large gestures and loud laughter. She says working with children helps her show explicitly cope with any party. Gradually, the table is covered with sweet and savory dishes. Cheese with herbs and spices, scrambled eggs, fresh baguette, jam, Nutella, tomatoes, cucumbers ... What we recover from lack of sleep that stuns us! The apartment incredibly reminds students that the studios know we have friends in Paris or Lyon: poster of Charlie Chaplin pictures on the fridge, bookcase packed ... No doubt, we are back in Europe. We spend a good part of the day chatting with the Happy trio, which shows photos and talks in Istanbul. Before we accompany him to the center, Yasemin is an honor to read the future of Jeremiah in the dregs of his coffee. She promises bright moments and we believe it willingly. We do not know when we meet again, friends of Istanbul, but know they are there, it warms the heart.
We find a small hotel in a quiet street not far from the tourist district. The pizza that we eat to end the day is filled with three different kinds of sausages, and served by a young man who, as Nejat, claims to Kurdish. Funda Yasemin and, for them put forward their membership of the Arab group. In just one day, I realize the richness and complexity of Turkish identity. In the evening we are pleased that the heater works. It is mid-November, we move in small steps in the European winter.
For Jeremiah already knew, like me, who discovers, Istanbul is fascinating, with his arm Bosphorus and Golden Horn loaded boat in constant motion, countless mosques like so many lighthouses in squat above the sea Urban, vendors of sesame rings, which we will treat our for future breakfasts ...
Hagia Sophia, monumental church built by the Romans, converted into a mosque later, and a museum today to dispel any possible claims of worship, let us blissful admiration, as the old gray stone exudes pride of building that lasted and lasted longer than any human being on earth. In photo, it does not make much, the play of light are too fleeting, golden mosaics hung too high, spaces too large. But see, you feel very small! 
As for mosques, we visit the famous Blue Mosque, which bears its name, but moves us less than another (which one has forgotten the name), farther from the center. We arrived just in time for the noon prayer, then we wait in the gardens that still makes the cold and naked. Cats silently through the grass asleep. The stone is cold beneath our buttocks. Then, the mosque was empty and we can sit barefoot on carpets multicolored, neck bent back by force to detail the ornate domed ceilings, arches, carved, painted earthenware. We hardly hear the mumbling of an old man who prays. The street noises were diluted in invisible ink.
On the advice of Funda, we are also entering the tanks of the basilica, a large underground space almost emptied of its water to allow visitors to travel on bridges. 
columns, delicately lit at the base, reflected in the pond, in a game of shadows and flickering lights. One evening, We walk on the pedestrian avenue that leads to the famous Taksim Square. Between cloned clothes shops on the tragic European and American models, needed an amazing number of bookstores. It's nice to see! And then we visit the museum modern art, as everywhere uneven between a share of megalomaniac delusions of artists and / or depression, and other small wonders of poetic fancy, as this sphere decomposed into mirrors and windows lit from within before which we remain mesmerized, holding our breath almost. On leaving, the magic continues in a different way, with a melting moussaka served in a PAPI apron in her tiny restaurant not far from the museum. And then as it is mild, we take the time to contemplate the Bosphorus Strait, where ships appear to follow the erratic course bumper cars, without of course going to collide. Profiteering seagulls follow their wake.
It feels good here. But we will return. After three days, it's time to leave, and we take the night train to Thessaloniki, Greece. Around midnight, customs we wakefulness where the gentle rhythm of the rails made us switch. For the first time in over a year we spend a border without receiving a stamp on our passports. We here in the European Union.
