The House Where The Black Cat Lives Goes to Venice

Usually, I like to plan vacations down to the nth detail. Then I went to Venice. Here, you let your senses guide your feet. Get lost. Every bridge crosses over to a new experience. Every alley way leads to an unexpected treasure. Some of my favorite discoveries in Venice:

Tiny hole-in-the-wall taverns serving amazing Veneto wines by the glass and an assortment of hearty appetizers known as cichetti.

Open air markets (some of them on boats) selling the freshest produce and roasted chestnuts.

Pasticcherias with tempting window displays of panettone, jam-filled croissants, panino with fresh cheese and spicy salami.

Beautiful piazzas where neighbors visit on park benches while their children kick soccer balls or zip around on scooters.

Gelaterias serving scoops of the richest dark chocolate, buttery caramel and panna cotta ice cream.

A store that sells nothing but gorgeous hand-stamped paper as they have for hundreds of years -- in the very same location.

Exquisite centuries old architecture -- everywhere.

Tiny specialty shops where the proprieters magically find your heart's desire -- whether it's a pair of hand-stitched velvet gondolier's slippers, a soft wool stole, cashmere socks, gold-stamped silk velvet pouches or buttery-soft Easter-egg candy colored leather gloves, that fit like, well, a glove.

An impromptu street parade of exuberent school children, shopping housewives, bemused tourists and a chanting Hare Krishna or two.

Neighborhood church bells ringing in the hour, but not quite in synch, all over the city. Every hour is a celebration.

Strains of Vivaldi seeping out of evening concert halls into the chilly fall air.

Venetian cats. While my Italian may not be quite up to snuff, it's reassuring to know I still speak fluent kitty.

Pasta shops with every shape, color and size imaginable.

Meow-- I mean ciao-- for now.