So, I was thinking about Riva degli Schiavoni just the other day. You know, that big, wide walkway in Venice, Italy. Always had this picture in my head of strolling along there. In fact, I actually tried to make it happen once, a good few years back now.
The Grand Plan That Wasn’t
My big idea was pretty straightforward. I’d save up a bit, find the cheapest flight I could, and book a tiny, probably not-so-great room somewhere nearby. The main thing was just to get there. I imagined myself walking along that Riva, maybe grabbing some of that famous Italian ice cream, just soaking it all in. I was slogging away at this really boring office job at the time, just endless paperwork and staring at a screen. Felt like I was going nowhere fast. That Venice trip, specifically seeing Riva degli Schiavoni, was going to be my big escape, my reward for all that drudgery.
I remember spending hours, literally hours, just looking at photos of it online. Riva degli Schiavoni in the sunshine, Riva degli Schiavoni with all the boats. It just looked so… open and full of life. And I felt so cooped up. My office had those horrible fluorescent lights that hum, and the coffee always tasted burnt. You know the kind of setup.
And Then, Wham!
Anyway, about a week, maybe ten days before I was supposed to fly out, everything went pear-shaped. Not in a dramatic, movie-explosion kind of way. More like life just decided to throw a spanner in the works. The company I was working for suddenly announced they were “downsizing.” Which is just a fancy way of saying, “Sorry, your job’s gone.” No real warning, just a quick chat and an envelope.
So, just like that, my dream of Riva degli Schiavoni evaporated. No job meant no spare cash for trips, obviously. The money I’d paid for the flight? Gone. The deposit for that little room? Kiss that goodbye too. Instead of wandering around Venice, I found myself back on my sofa, feeling pretty miserable and trying to figure out what to do next. It was a real kick in the teeth, I tell you.
- My grand Italian adventure? Cancelled.
- My escape plan? Up in smoke.
- My mood? Rock bottom.
Picking Up the Pieces
I spent a fair bit of time feeling sorry for myself, not going to lie. It’s tough when you’ve pinned your hopes on something and it all falls apart. But after a while, I just got fed up with being fed up. You can only mope for so long, right? So, I started hitting the job sites. Sent out tons of applications, made calls, the whole nine yards. It was a slog. Lots of rejections, or just silence.
Then, completely out of the blue, I got a call from someone I used to work with ages ago, at a different company. We weren’t super close or anything, but he remembered I was pretty organized. Said his new little company was growing fast and they were in a bit of a mess, needed someone to come in and sort things out, handle the admin, that kind of stuff. It wasn’t glamorous, and it definitely wasn’t strolling along a Venetian waterfront. But it was a job. And honestly, it was a lifeline.
And you know what? It turned out to be a really good move. It was challenging, for sure. Lots of hard work. But I got to build things, make a real impact. Ended up learning a ton of new stuff. It was way more satisfying than that old job, the one I was trying to escape from in the first place.
I still haven’t made it to Riva degli Schiavoni. Funny how life works out, isn’t it? Sometimes the plans you make just don’t happen, but something else comes along that you never expected. I don’t really dwell on the missed trip anymore. That whole experience, losing the job, having to cancel everything, it kind of pushed me onto a different path. A better one, I think. Maybe I’ll get to Venice one day. Or maybe I won’t. The important thing is, I’m not stuck anymore. And that feeling, well, that’s worth more than any holiday, beautiful as it might be.
