< ![CDATA[  Our first day’s ride, south from Venice to Chioggia, was exactly what you’d expect: alternately picturesque: rolling through idyllic countryside dotted with pomegranate and olive trees, between fields of asparagus... and hair raising: along ridiculously narrow roadways with vespas, cars and trucks whizzing by at top speed. Everything you’ve heard about Italian drivers is true. They’re crazy. However, they seem to be crazy with an eye for cyclists as there are bikes everywhere and from the general absence of helmets and full body armor, I must conclude that they are not hit on a regular basis. This is good news for us. We walked today along the edge of the Adriatic sea, watching the the white foam curl between our toes. The water is surprisingly warm... the children ended up wet a bit further north than their toes (Ezra is scrubbing the salt and sand out of his pants as I type this: “Sigh. ARGH! This is hard Dad!” “Yes! Do you see how much work Mom has to do? Stay dry the next time I tell you to!”) We spent a long hour collecting shells and comparing beach treasures and looking out across the vast blue wondering what the folks on the opposite beach, in Croatia, were doing. Chioggia is to Venice as the ugly step sister is to Cinderella: not without her charms, but never quite getting to dance with the Prince. Like Venice, it is built on a series of islands and is riddled with canals. It is home to the oldest tower clock in the world, from the early 1300s. As far as we could see the old clock, with its astrolabe, is the town’s main draw. We saw it... and took a picture for you, of course. We spent a while on the wharf, watching fishermen sort their catch of crabs and photographing two bronze Adonis-esque men posing for us on the bow of their boat as they crept up to the pier. Everyone was laughing. The beachfront is one long row of restaurants, beach parks, and hotels, not unlike Myrtle Beach in South Carolina... only with gelato stands sprinkled along every block. A definite improvement over SC.]]>