In Fair Verona, Where We Lay Our Scene

"Two households, both alike in dignity,
     In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
     Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
     A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life;
 Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
     Do, with their death, bury their parents' strife. -
The fearful passage of their death-marked love,
     And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,
     Is now the two hours' traffick of our stage;
The which, if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend."


We arrive at Venice Santa Lucia railway station via a glorious trip up the Grand Canal, so decadent in the fresh morning air.  I remember Italian trains being something of a mystery when I inter-railed a few years ago, and it seems nothing has changed.  Locating our tickets on the self-service machine, Lizzie notices that we have the option to pick our own seats.  This is ideal, and we choose two together using the on-screen carriage guide.  This is too good to be true however, as when our tickets print, we have been placed four carriages apart.  In the end, we find two seats together and hope they're not reserved.  This works fine until our train reaches Padua, where a man gets on and asks another passenger to get out of his seat.  This passenger produces a ticket showing his is the seat opposite, occupied by a young woman.  Her ticket reveals that she is meant to be in another seat at our table, where an older man is sitting.  He in turn produces a ticket for my seat, and what feels like the eyes of the entire carriage fall onto me.  Time for a quick exit.

Our destination for the day is the city of Verona which lies about sixty miles west of the Venetian lagoon.  After a few days surrounded by water it comes as something of a shock to once again be in the company of roads, cars and buses, and we leave the station in slight confusion about where to go.  It all makes for quite the adventure, as we pound the pavements of a new and foreign city, searching for the centre, all the while knowing that we only have five hours until our train leaves to take us back again.  In the end, it's incredibly easy to navigate and in no time at all we at at Piazza Bra (a name we can all share a laugh over), a lovely open square dominated by the Roman amphitheatre,  built in AD 30, the second-largest after Rome's Colosseum.  It makes for a fascinating visit, the high-sided terraces giving a spectacular view of the arena, which in its day would have hosted the cruelest and bloodiest sports of the empire.  Nowadays it hosts something far worse - at the centre of the arena is an enormous stage, being readied for a Duran Duran concert.  Nonetheless, it isn't difficult to imagine wild beasts and gladiators, thousands of spectators enjoying a taste of Roman entertainment, at the very heart of the Empire.  Lizzie and I climb to the very top level, and stand in awe of our surroundings.

Piazza Bra

Lizzie at the arena

A pair of star-crossed lovers

Back in Piazza Bra, one cannot help but notice the local police force, Barvarian in appearance, feathers sticking out the top of their tri-corner hats.  These, I am told, are the Alpine police, which patrol from Verona in the south to the Alps in the north, and make up part of the blurred culture encompassing northern Italy, Austria, Switzerland, and southern Germany. 

Leaving Piazza Bra and heading up Via Anfiteatro, we stop for our customary gelato.  When it comes to ice cream, Lizzie is always more adventurous than me, and whilst I opt for delicious chocolates and mints, she chooses a radioactive-looking gelato called puffi.  Now, I had noted only the day before that puffi seems to be Italian for smurf (I noticed this on a cinema poster in Venice), and true to its name, puffi gelato is bright blue.  It also tastes of bubblegum, is strangely pleasant, but does not compliment any other flavour - or colour - in the entire ice cream world.  Lizzie, I congratulate you on your sense of adventure, if not on your final choice ;-)

Lizzie enjoying puffi gelato

Reaching Piazza della Erbe, we follow the gaudy yellow signs pointing to Casa di Giulietta, the house said to have been the home of Juliette Capulet.  There is actually no proof linking the house to the story, but this hasn't stopped the locals cashing in on the site, which for a few euros entitles you to stand in the balcony to pose for a photograph - a timeless souvenir, me thinks, for the tacky-minded. There isn't actually much else to see at Casa di Giulietta, and we are both underwhelmed by its crowds and its dirtiness - it seems to have become a tradition to stick chewing gum on the walls, to scratch messages into the bricks. There is much better to see in this part of Verona, not least the official shop of local football club Hellas Verona, who play in Italy's second division, and share Torquay United's colours.

Casa di Giulietta

Cheering on the local football team

The picturesque Piazza della Erbe

 Beyond the pretty Piazza della Erbe lies the northern end of the city centre, punctuated by the beautiful church of Sant' Anastasia.  This is the most ancient part of the city, the church being completed around AD 1400, designed and held by the Dominicans until 1808.  The exterior is fairly uninspiring, owing to it never having been finished, but the interior is overwhelming, red and white marble adoring the columns of the nave, one of the loveliest churches of our trip.

The unfinished facade of Sant' Anastasia

The interior of Sant' Anastasia

Across the Adige river, the land rises steeply and quickly gives way to a rural landscape, the foothills of the Italian Alps.  Nestled into the bottom of the cliff is a Roman theatre, built in the late first century and now a lovely little archaeological museum.  Aside from the well-preserved theatre, the museum (which is accessible via a rickety old lift) offers an extensive collection of Roman artefacts ranging from mosaics to figurines, sculptures to columns.  In pretty little Italian courtyards, we are treated to exhibits of the museum's ongoing conservation work - hundreds of artefacts being restored for future generations.  What makes this place even more fascinating is that we have more-or-less left the tourist trail, and have the site almost exclusively to ourselves.  It's the perfect place to delve a little into the region's wonderful past, and enjoy a stunning view over the city.

Scenes from the Roman theatre and museum

A stunning view from the Roman theatre museum

Our walk back to the station follows the Adige river past the Duomo - Verona's cathedral.  The schools have obviously just finished for the day, and the roads are jammed as cars are abandoned down side streets and, apparently, cathedral carparks.  Inside, the cathedral is ornate but cosy, the interior dating from the 15th century with columns made of red Verona marble.  Chapels flank each side on the cathedral, and host paintings by a variety of Veronese artists, whilst the nave ends with the main chapel, Cappella Maggiore.

The exterior of Verona's Duomo

Verona Duomo's beautiful interior

Late in the afternoon, feet aching and with the sun still high in the sky, we find one of Verona's most well-known structures - the Castelvecchio Bridge.  The exact dates of construction are unknown, but the bridge is thought to have been built in the mid-1350s by Cangrande II della Scala (Lord of Verona), to allow him a quick escape in the event of rebellion against his cruel and tyrannical rule.  Completely destroyed by retreated German troops making their own escape in 1945, it was faithfully reconstructed in 1949, a proud achievement of the Veronese.  Legend has it that on its original inauguration, the bridge's designer presented himself to the townspeople on horseback, so he could quickly flee should the bridge crumble!

The Castelvecchio Bridge

From the Castelvecchio Bridge, it's a carefully navigated walk through the backstreets of Verona, back to the railway station.  As it happens, our train is twenty minutes late, but there is something intriguing about sitting on the platform of a foreign railways station that I rather like.  I think it's the destination board - we could hop on the express to Milan, or the long-distance service to Rome.  In the end, however, we hear Venice calling, and board our train back with some relief - our seat reservations are side-by-side.  Although we've barely had five hours to explore the city, we both love Verona.  For me it is one of the finest foreign cities I have visited, well worth a few days in any future visit to northern Italy - an absolutely lovely city.


"A glooming peace this morning with it brings;
    The sun, for sorrow, will not shew his head.
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
      Some shall be pardoned, and some punishéd;
For never was a tale of more woe
Than that of Juliet and her Romeo."