Maria-sama ga Miteru:Volume17 Chapter8

From the City of Water to the Island Nation

Part 1

The Eurostar departed Santa Maria Novella station after 10:30 a.m. and arrived in Venice at the Santa Lucia station around 1:30 p.m. The trip took about three hours, but it did not feel so long because they dozed along the way. The exhaustion hit them like a wave on the way here.

After they arrived at the station, they rode a water taxi to Piazza San Marco. Venice was the city of water. It seems there was not a single car here.

Because they were returning home tomorrow, Venice was just a one-night stay. Since they were only here for a half day, they ate lunch at a street cafe facing Piazza San Marco, dropped their luggage off at the hotel, and then sallied forth into the city.

They first saw the Basilica di San Marco, then today's main event: attempt to ride in one of Venice's famous gondolas.

That started at the wharf where they negotiate the fee to ride a gondola.

"They start with an overly high fee, so you have to be careful."

The four of them had each read this in their guidebooks from their earlier information meeting.

"Okay, so we'll limit it to only 2,500 yen per person."

Although it varied by course, the market rate seemed to be around 10,000 Japanese yen.

The fee is charged per gondola, so it does not go up or down depending on the number of people on board. But since the bill would be split by the number of people, they needed to discuss the per-person cost ahead of time.

It was a simple calculation: 10,000 ÷ 4 ＝ 2,500 (yen).

"What if it goes over 2,500 yen?"

"We'll negotiate with a different gondolier. Because nobody said we have to ignore market rates and pay a ridiculous amount."

Apparently, an opponent can be defeated just by the sight of getting a quote from a competitor. In fact, Tsutako-san successfully kept it within budget, winning a negotiation with a gondolier who started by asking for a fee over twice what they were willing to pay.

"We don't have that much money, so we'll skip it."

She said this in Japanese, and turning her back to him and grabbing Yumi and friends shoulder, she prepared to take their leave. In a panic, the gondolier rushed after them and said in Italian mixed with English, "then how much do you have?" Offering too low a price would break off the negotiations, so she offered about 2,000 yen per person. The gondolier responded with a pose that said, "that's impossible." They eventually shook hands on 10,000 yen for a 40-minute course. This was the market rate, so it could not be said that this was a gain or a loss.

According to a story that they heard later, there was one group that, because it didn't have anyone good at negotiation, paid 20,000 yen for the same 40-minute course. It was a six-person group, so they paid around 3,300 per person. Those girls had to pay a lot of money, which was extraordinarily frustrating.

So the four people, having concluded their own negotiations, boarded the gondola from the wharf by Piazza San Marco. The rower is called a gondolier. The gondolier for the gondola that Yumi and friends boarded was a young man. Was the t-shirt with horizontal stripes and the wide-brimmed hat a uniform? Because everyone at the oar of a gondola dressed the same.

After easily gliding into the Grand Canal, they entered a small canal. Was this the sensation of passing from the main street into a back street?

Amidst the backs of pastel-colored three- and four-storied buildings, the gondola glided along. The gondola passed under various low bridges, made of brick and marble-looking white stone, each lovely.

The gondolier was quite chatty. In slow English, without interruption, he explained the town.

"I don't even understand one-third of what he's saying."

Yoshino-san said while smiling ear to ear. Yes, certainly. But she could pick up a word here and there. While thinking "I can get a general idea of what he's saying", she also thought that idly riding the gondola was nice. She could later look up anything about things from the 13th century and the story of the people who ruled this area in olden days. But only in this moment could she experience the atmosphere created by the canal, look at the scenery of this old back street.

Mami-san had constantly written down notes at the beginning of the trip, but lately, she hadn't opened her notepad. It was as if she suddenly understood that to communicate the joy of travel to Lillian Kawaraban readers, she first had to experience it herself.

When a crosswise canal came into view, the gondolier let out a sound like a howl. It was probably a signal like "my gondola is approaching the intersection now." There weren't any traffic lights, so they probably decided on this as a way to avoid accidents.

There were places along the way where the waterway got quite narrow. At such times, they would pass other boats, packed with luggage.

"It's a wonder that they don't collide."

But, as one would expect from a professional, they handled their gondolas diligently. Although he was young, he was a third generation gondolier. He piloted the gondola that his grandfather did, having repaired it many times over.

Although the gondolas all appeared the same at first glance, their interior and decoration differed according to the owner. It was probably the same as with people who love cars, constantly tinkering with their automobiles. Probably each was their own form of "obsession."

They were momentarily in a wide canal, passing under the Rialto bridge. On the bridge, they could see some girls in Lillian uniforms. Even though they couldn't tell who those girls were, they waved to the bridge from the gondola.

After the Rialto bridge, they split off into another small canal. In rhythm with the oar, the gondolier sang a verse of a canzone (an Italian ballad). He had an amazing voice.

"I think there are Italians who are not good singers, but are they all without exception not bad singers? Or can they not become gondoliers if they cannot sing?"

This simple question came to mind, but she lacked the language ability to ask it.

"If several generations of your family are gondoliers, then by blood and environment, one way or another, you end up becoming one, right?"

Yoshino-san said.

"I see."

By blood or environment, one way or another. From someone who just started kendo, those words held unusually persuasive power. But in her case, it wasn't that long ago that she did, one way or another.

Before the approach to the San Marco Grand Canal was the 'Bridge of Sighs.'

"The legend says that if you kiss while going under this bridge, you will have eternal love...."

As Mami-san said this, the gondolier heard words like "kiss" and "tradition" in her explanation.

"Kiss, huh."

Just how the heck could a group of four high school girls explain this to him? Oh yes. All he could do was chuckle. Then the gondolier said something like "next time, come with a lover."

"But."

After they went under the Bridge of Sighs, Mami-san then continued her unfinished story.

"But really, long ago, when prisoners crossed over that bridge, they would lament that they would never return. That's why it's called the 'Bridge of Sighs.' Sorry to crush your dreams."

"Eh."

A bridge spanning the gap between the Doge's Palace and the nearby prison. That's the Bridge of Sighs. So that explanation was probably correct. But what will become of the feelings of the uncountable number of couples who kissed under this bridge?

"Oh, even if you know that the origin was the sighs of prisoners, that doesn't negate the tradition."

"Yeah, that's right."

But to kiss under the sighs of prisoners. She thought more than a few couples might reconsider once they knew.

"Well. What should I do?"

The group of four high school girls thought, each without a counterpart.

The gondolier did not understand Japanese and did not know what troubled his passengers. With a big smile, he rowed through the canal.

Last stop.

The gondola wharf came into view.

Part 2

Because there was a little time until the 5 o'clock meetup time, they peeked into just a few souvenir shops.

Speaking of Venice: Venetian glass. Wondering whether to buy something for home, they suddenly felt faint upon seeing the prices.

"That's surprisingly expensive."

"These are tourist trap prices, aren't they?"

Tourists will by things even if they are somewhat expensive. But being humble high school girls, their pocket change is limited, and they cannot buy anything that is somewhat expensive.

Eventually, after peeking into many shops, Yumi got a Venetian glass pendant for her mother, a Venetian glass tie pin for her father, and a Venetian glass bookmark for Yuuki.

The shopkeeper even spoke some broken Japanese while helping customers. Probably because so many Japanese tourists visit.

Standing on the Rialto bridge at dusk, they could hear the hustle and bustle below. Looking down, they saw a gondola carrying a band playing music pass under the bridge.

Part 3

The cuisine of Venice was abundant with seafood and totally delicious.

Shrimp, crab, and squid. Ingredients that reminded them of Japan as they each made their entrance. Just what they'd expect from the city of water. It was as if they were quite conscious of how their stomachs were tired of Florence's meat. Of course, there wasn't any sashimi. Everything was cooked in olive oil.

The hotel room was spacious, gorgeous, and old-fashioned. This time it was not a card key, but a heavy metal key. The deadbolt was also heavy, and required a little work to open. But thanks to that, hotel guests will probably stay in their rooms and not be out in the halls. One less thing for the students to worry about.

After getting out of the bath, Yoshino-san put her luggage on the red, pink, and gold floral bed, then turned on the television.

"Hey, look."

From the television came the sound of Japanese. Matching that was the screen, showing a Japanese living room.

"What's this?"

"Japanese drama."

But the set really felt like a set. The actors were acting seriously, somehow in a living room.

"It's probably at least 20 years old."

An actor appeared that Yoshino-san's mother liked long ago. Yumi wasn't sure when she heard this. That actor had died many years before Yumi and friends were born.

"Ah, this young man, I know him. He, uh, I can't recall his name. But he's in a drama right now, he's the protagonist tormented by an evil old man."

"That's him!"

Yoshino-san had stopped packing for a bit. Even far away in Italy, she could watch Japanese television shows. Even though it was an old drama full of dialog.

"Last week's episode was tough, huh? But, that character holds the key to unlocking the secret of the protagonist's birth, so he'll show up every time."

"I can't stop watching that show. I look forward to every Thursday...."

After a while, they both suddenly burst with excitement:

"What day is today?!"

They had an unpleasant premonition. A very very bad one. Before saying another word, Yoshino-san jumped on the phone.

"Hello, auntie? Rei-chan, answer!"

According to the clock, it was a little before 11 at night. Adding 8 hours, in Japan it was almost 7 in the morning. Rei-sama would probably be getting up soon.

"Ah, Rei-chan?"

Yoshino-san opened with "How are you?" and "sorry for calling so early," then quickly switched to the main issue, rattling on and on without pause.

"Eh? Oh. Ah, that's right. No, no, it's fine. Talk to you later."

Yoshino-san looked powerless as she returned the receiver. Like she'd lost her focus.

"So that's it. That drama's too harsh for Rei-chan to watch, she switched it off partway through. Oh, I messed up. I watched the drama on Thursday night, then departed Friday morning. I was so busy that I forgot. Oh, Yoshino no baka baka."

Yoshino-san stamped her feet out of extreme frustration. Then, as if a great idea struck, she grabbed Yumi's shoulders.

"Yumi-san."

"Ye, yes?"

"Of course, Yumi-san records it! Loan me the tape after you're done watching it. Before next week's episode if possible."

With an incredibly cute face.

"...The truth is, I also forgot."

"Oh."

"Sorry."

Yumi was in the same boat as Yoshino-san. If it was a Friday drama, she probably would have thought "I need to record it" as she left. But since she had just watched it Thursday evening drama, she was satisfied and did not think about the day of the next airing or her return home from abroad.

The old drama ended, and the screen switched to a news program. Even though it was midnight here, the familiar morning announcer from Japan smiled and said "good morning." He then clearly said the date.

"This is the Friday 7 a.m. news."

The Thursday drama was broadcast around the same time that everyone was enjoying themselves riding the gondola.

Part 4

Friday morning, Italy time.

They took a water bus from Piazza San Marco to Marco Polo airport. Then by air to Milano.

Milano's Malpensa airport, where just one week ago they started their time in Italy. It was already a nostalgic airport.

There were about two hours until departure for Narita, so they had an hour of free time. Yumi and friends headed to the duty-free shop to buy souvenirs for the Rose Manor.

"We could not find any senbei in Florence. People in my group had never heard of them."

Shimako-san said while they walked. It seems she had really searched for them during her free time.

"They don't sell anything like that."

Yoshino-san said, cackling with laughter. But after the parakeet's words, I thought "maybe they do exist", at least for a moment.

"So, what will we do?"

They searched sweet shops all over, but sure enough, they never found any "Roman Manjuu" or "Florence Senbei."

"Perhaps chocolate will be fine?" Although it will be the same as last year."

"Acceptable, and delicious."

Since Shimako-san and Yoshino-san were already residents of the Rose Manor by this time last year, they would know what souvenirs came back from last year's school trip. Not just know, but ate, too. This made Yumi terribly envious.

Eventually, they picked a box with a variety of chocolates arranged in rows. The three of them pooled their money and bought it.

Yumi still had some pocket change left, so she bought some sun-dried tomatoes and porcini mushrooms for her family. Actually, she also wanted to buy some olive oil, but the bottle was massive and she was afraid it would break on the trip home, so she gave up on that.

"Excuse me, Shimako-san. About Sei-sama."

Yumi said while waiting her turn in line at the cash register. Because she had not yet talked about the parakeet in Florence. But before hearing that, Shimako-san replied,

"Sure enough, she was here, wasn't she?"

"You met!?"

Yumi and Yoshino-san both said, surprised.

"No."

Shimako-san shook her head.

"But I felt it. She was nearby."

More than the testimony of seeing someone that looks like Sei-sama, more than fact that the parakeet spoke Satou-san's name, Why was it that just Shimako-san's "I felt it" was more convincing?

"Then why didn't Sei-sama get in touch?"

Like Shizuka-sama. They could have met up as much as possible during their free time. Yumi wanted to ask that. But probably because it was about Sei-sama's feelings, she didn't ask Shimako-sama.

"I wonder if it's conceit on my part."

Shimako-san smiled, a bit bashfully.

"I think it was for my sake."

Shimako-san's sake.

Those words, from Shimako-san's mouth, are probably the correct answer.

Sei-sama, for Shimako-san's sake, did not come and meet them. So, that's what it was.

Shimako-sama and Sei-sama are always connected, even when apart. As far as Yumi was concerned, this was a totally lovely example.

Part 5

Inside the airplane was same as before. Sleep, wake, eat, visit the restroom. After two rounds of this, they had at last returned to Japan. The return trip felt faster than going out. Flight time was not shorter, but they were tired and probably slept more on the return trip.

It was Saturday mid-morning in Japan.

Surrounded by Japanese flitting about, bitten by the heartrending return to her home country, dazed by her time abroad, Yumi said "thank you" in English to the person in front of her who held the door open to a Narita airport restroom. The other person was probably Japanese.

Each class held a quick homeroom, then disbanded at the airport.

The teacher spoke mainly about tips and pointers. "Be careful going home." "No side trips." "You've been with the school since Monday, so take the weekend to rest at home." Even if the teacher hadn't taken the time to warn them, the students probably would have done so. Everyone was tired and wanted to hurry up and rest on their own futon.

Thinking that because it was Saturday, the roads would be packed, or that she'd miss the morning rush hour, Yumi decided to return home via train.

"See ya."

Yoshino-san planned to split off at the airport, taking a bus to K station and sleeping along the way.

"I'm sorry you have to carry the souvenirs."

Shimako-san said to Yoshino-san.

"It's fine, its fine. I'm closest to the school, and I commute on foot so we don't have to worry about the box getting crushed on a box or train during rush hour, or the chocolate melting."

No matter when, Yoshino-san's spirit of service flourished.

"More than that, Yumi-san."

Turning her head, she approached Yumi.

"Yes?"

"Give my sincere regards to Yuuki-kun."

"...I will."

At Yumi's reply, Yoshino-san nodded, lifted her incredibly heavy luggage, and disappeared in the direction of the bus stop.

"Why?"

Shimako-san tilted her head with curiosity.

"There's this TV drama that Yoshino-san forgot to record. She knows that Yuuki recorded it for me. That's what she means."

"Oh my. She must be so happy."

"You said it."

But in that luggage, even without rush hour, the chocolates might get broken. They both thought of this at the same time, and their faces met before either could say this.

Already, Yoshino-san could no longer be seen.

"Yumi-san, Shimako-san, are you heading somewhere together?"

Mami-san and Tsutako-san waved from where they waited by an escalator."

"Yes."

Answering, Yumi and Shimako-san joined the two people. Their sailor collars fluttered only a moment, but it was like Yoshino-san's bag of unrelenting cheerfulness.

Even though their bodies were exhausted, everyone was somehow buoyed by the sensation of returning home.

Ah, that sure was fun.

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