Venice is not the city to head for if you are on your own and the type of person that enjoys the company of members of the opposite sex but is unable to acquire said company at the drop of a gondolier… however, it is a pretty place so for those out there who plan to spend some time here, learn from my finite but poignant wisdom

You will generally get by without breaking down into tears as long as you don’t spend too much time on dimly lit canal bridges, or frequent restaurants that people who would otherwise be spending time on dimly lit bridges eat at.

Saying the words ‘’sono solo sta sera” may sound poetic to the foreign ear but they are a sad combination of parole italiani … in this town when you utter words to this effect after entering a restaurant you are immediately ushered away from the eye gazing couples which adhere to the street side tables and are usually sent to a seat where you can usually at least see the outside world but usually are part of the ashtray or napkin storage area,.. i guess this is to minimise the pain that you may undergo by having to watch people being happy sharing expensive cocktails deliberating over whether cozze are mussels or some kind of mushroom or arguing about why the fella always refers to the map… ( i ditched my map days ago,.. I’m not bragging.. its just rather useless)

Once you are seated various adjustments are made to your personal space,.. firstly the waiter whisks away the glassware, cutlery and napkins from the vacant side of your table, this is to remind you that there is something missing in your paultry existence, a void, an aperture which you have neglected and which may become infected and lead to serious harm unless you do something about it.

Everyone else is now aware that you are alone, you can’t pour a sip of wine into the spare glass and pretend that your beautiful dinner partner has merely popped out to speak to the amassed throng of foreign journalists or deal with a problem the chef has with tonight’s souffles.

No buddy, you aint gonna fool anyone.

But you have the chair, the chair, it sits there staring at you, a constant reminder of the fact that yuou can’t manufacture shared experience despite how seasoned a traveller you are, how refined your tastes or profound your knowledge of local customs, ethics and culture.

The shape of the chair will vary, some are short and stout, motherly, the kind of chair you would turn to when in need of advice, a hug, or got your thumb caught in a blender again. Others are tall and slender and have southern accents, they knock you off your feet and make you think of a world you never knew existed, these are the kinds of chairs you pass by thinking i will sit with that chair next time i see it,.. but of course that day rarely comes.

Other chairs are a flamboyant array of angles, material colours and form, you keep hoping that they are just shallow but you keep wanting to be with them and learn more about the simple complexity of their world.

But the shoulders of the beautiful chair are always there, peering back at you over the top of your table, waiting patiently for you to come up with a witty anecdote, say something inspirational anout the things you have seen today, the smells from the fish market intermingling with those from the pasticerria, the sunlight reflecting off the canal and onto the ceiling of the casa on the bank, the things americans say to people they think can’t speak english.

Alone you can say these things out loud if you wish, you can think them up, you can write them down, but nobody will be there to understand them.

This is not necessarily a bad thing, but a thing you must come to terms with.

For me this is the end of the line in Venice, tomorrow I am off to Bologna for at least 3 nights and then will probably leapfrog my way through Toscana to Siena, but then again that’s one advantage of travelling alone, i really don’t know where i am going, but for once .. that’s a good thing.