(cont'd...) I yanked the cellphone from my pocket and dialed David.  

"Hey, Dave, we just arrived! What's your apartment's number? We..." I asked, but was cut.  

"Don't worry about it, let me just meet you guys up at Rialto bridge!" replying abruptly with hint of a seemingly concealed grin on his end. That left me wondering. When we met afterwards, he explained to me that it's a lot easier meeting us in a popular public place rather that to try our luck in this unusually complicated narrow streets of Venice. He proved himself right later on. After our phone conversation, and while looking at the map our friend Manila had just purchased in an attempt to find our way to Rialto bridge, my wife and I agreed to walk instead of enjoying the leisure of waterbus.
We did the right decision.

Before the opera

We crossed numerous smaller bridge on our way to Rialto; each offering different views from the other. Vendors are everywhere, some straight-faced, others would offer their traditional greetings: "Buon giorno!". Beware not to negotiate prices with these vendors, you'll waste your time.
I noticed most, if not all, streets do not have street signs, but only arrows pointing to some city's spot-of-interest (i.
e. Piazza de San Marco). Except from what I perceived as blisters on my foot, we continued to enjoy exploring these narrow alleyways with little shops spread on both sides, occassionally stopping on arched bridges to take pictures of any gondola gliding smoothly through this meandering water passageway. The wife giggled with enjoyment everytime she hears baritone gondoliers sing their heart out.   David had been at the Rialto bridge way ahead, waiting for us; he assumed that we had taken the faster water bus. Amidst the crowds filling the whole bridge, I introduced David to my company and we walked away to his place. TO BE CONTINUED...