“Venice.”

“Exactly. When are you ever going to get to be in Venice again in your lifetime? Not to mention the fact you’re being paid to be there, to write, which is the thing you love doing more than anything in the world.”

Keira listened to her mother’s soothing voice and let her words sink in. She could be such a great comfort, and sometimes she really did offer good advice.

“I’m stuck here for another day anyway,” Keira replied. “So I don’t need to make a decision any time soon.”

“Stuck in Italy,” her mom teased. “How awful.”

“Okay, Mom, I get it,” Keira replied.

Laughing, she bade farewell to her mom and headed in the direction of San Marco Square.

Venice in the early morning was a whole new treat. Only a few stores and cafes had opened their doors and since the tourists were all sleeping off last night’s partying, she pretty much had the place to herself.

Keira purchased a new notebook and pen, then sat at one of the square’s many coffee shops, under a large umbrella that would shield her from the heat of the rising sun. Yesterday this square had been filled with people, music, and smells. But now it was almost silent.

A waiter came over to take her order.

“I wasn’t sure if anywhere would be open today,” Keira told him. “It’s a national holiday, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “It is the day we celebrate all the saints in Catholicism. But those of us who work in tourism don’t get the luxury of enjoying it. Venice is a city for tourists and the tourists want to party. Sometimes All Saints’ Day is confused with All Souls’ Day. Sometimes it gets added in with Halloween as well.” He shook his head sadly, clearly lamenting a simpler time. “It is one big celebration now. Disrespectful.”

It seemed a shame to Keira that certain people could not enjoy their traditions because they had to cater to other people.

Once her cappuccino arrived, Keira began to write about Venice, inspired by what the waiter had told her about how tourism was affecting the city.

I venture into Venice just as the sun is rising, to discover a secret side of the city I hadn’t realized existed. Without the throngs of chattering tourists, Venice sings. Her song is comprised of footsteps echoing through alleyways, seabirds calling to one another, and the gentle slosh of waves against the sidewalk. Had it not been for an unfortunate gondola accident last night, I would never have seen this serene side of Venice, nor heard her beautiful voice.

But while Capri represents the passion of love, and Rome the romance of it, once Venice is stripped back to its core, it comes to represent the lesser known side of love—sacrifice and compromise. It is a city reliant on tourism but stifled because of it, an allegory for real love. Unlike the giddy passionate love Capri promises, or the hand-in-hand love of Rome, Venice is a city that reminds us that love, inevitably, must also include pain.