We get fog intermittently at various moments throughout the year, and my only objection to it isn’t what it does to my hair (I’ve abandoned my dreams there) but what it does to the vaporettos.
They still run, but the smaller motoscafos that circle Venice undergo an abrupt change of plan, which I totally do not understand. The boats have radar; the boats are almost always in sight of land, or channel markers, or whatever. It may be the crushing influence of the insurers that induces the ACTV to send the motoscafos up the Grand Canal instead of around the city, and iin that case making only a few strategic stops to which you must adapt (Accademia, Rialto, train station, Piazzale Roma).
Or sometimes they simply suspend operations on most of the round-the-city lines, with no notice whatever, meaning you have to reconfigure everything in order to make use of the one truly and eternally reliable transport, the trusty old #1 local.
At that point, you have to plot a new overland route to your destination, and that’s where the real inconvenience comes in. As it happens, not long ago I was accompanying an elderly neighbor to the hospital for an appointment. The boat we usually take requires a mere four stops, and the fourth is right in front of the hospital. But with the fog, the music changes, as they say here when describing an unexpected and disagreeable shift in plans. So we had to A) walk further than our usual stop in order to reach a stop that still was functioning; B) disembark at San Marco; and C) walk inland.
My friend is a trouper, though. By the time a Venetian reaches 82 years old she/he may well have stronger legs than Simone Biles. I had proposed riding to the Rialto stop and walking inland from there. She counter-proposed that we get off at San Zaccaria and walk cross-lots from there. I secretly gave her ten extra points and a gold star. And a bluebird.
Happily for us, the fog lifted while we were indoors, so we took the usual four-stop vehicle and were home in a jiffy (or 15 minutes in ACTV years).
Unhappily for us, this scenario was repeated this week — two days in succession — and while I may enjoy bragging about it at the end of those days , I do not appreciate being compelled to show how strong and hardy I am. Frankly, I’ll never beat the little old lady to win the Tough as Old Boots trophy.
I suppose the fog wouldn’t be quite as beautiful if I were the captain — or the pilot — but the Italian sail training ship Amerigo Vespucci can never look anything but splendid.