Well, I think I've delayed writing this post as long as humanly possible. I knew this was going to be a lengthy one, though, and that generally translates to hours and hours on the computer, which I'm trying to be better about these days...but I think it's 'round about time.
Folks, I was not expecting Verona. I knew that there was a Roman amphitheater (obviously, as that was our primary destination in the city), and that there was Juliette's balcony (of "Romeo and" fame) to see; and I'd heard that the place was really small...and so I was not at all prepared for the absolute wealth of beauty and history and architecture and ridiculously good food that we found there. And while we did have to elbow through tourists in the very center--the site of said balcony, as well as some stunning piazzas and a genuinely incredible old church--once we got away from the main thoroughfares, the city was ours for exploration. And was gorgeous and old, everywhere: just in the 10-minute walk from our car park to our B&B, we passed remnants of a couple of ancient city walls; a Roman gate; and the amphitheater itself. Score one for Verona. Impressive right out of the box.
Mike found us a place to stay just off of the Piazza delle Erbe, the city's market square and site of the ancient Roman forum. This was the view from our room--which was, thankfully, shockingly quiet.
Piazza delle Erbe at night, with the clock tower from 1370; the Palazzo Maffei (completed in 1668);and the lion of St. Mark, the symbol of Venetian influence in the city during the 15th through 18th centuries.
Dinner on night 1 was at Trattoria al Pompiere, where we started with an antipasto plate of thick-sliced local sopressa with giardiniera; I had a bowl of vegetable-bean soup, and Mike had spaghetti with basil, burrata, and datterini tomatoes; and we split a plate of hand-cut beef tartare with balsamic vinegar and chickpea puree. We had zero intention of ordering dessert, but they insisted that we try the house-made sbrisolona, which turned out to be a giant, not-too-sweet, pleasantly crunchy, crumbly almond cookie. Really good.
Day two began with a stop for espresso and wee pastries at Pasticceria Flego, which turned out to be our go-to for breakfast for the rest of the trip. Such good coffee! Utterly beautiful and divinely tasty pastries!
It was nothing so highfalutin' as petit fours, however, that drew our attention to Flego. It was this giant marzipan hamburger in their window. (Heh.) We both stuck to our usual breakfasts--some variety of filled croissant--but also felt compelled to try out their gorgeous miniature pastries. Mike went for the two-bites-sized cannoli, and I had to have a single tiny square of yellow cake topped with dark chocolate ganache and a sour cherry. SO...TASTY...
The fountain in the Piazza delle Erbe, the base of which was built in the 14th century. The statue on top, however, dates to Roman times, about 380 AD.
Believe it or not, we did do things other than eat breakfast that first day! Spotted on our walk into town the previous evening, the magnificent Porta Borsari, originally built as part of a city wall by the Romans around 45 BC (!), and restored in 265 AD by the emperor Gallienus (or so the inscription on it would have you believe).
And then, it was off to explore the rest of the city! Sadly, most of the photos I took in the Piazza dei Signori (usually called Piazza Dante, due to the statue of Dante in the center, and the fact that he wrote a good portion of Paradise here) are overexposed, as it was bright out there. (And also, I'm not so "good" with a "camera.") Trust me, though, when I say that the place was utterly grand. You can tell by the ridiculous numbers of photos I took there. (Luckily for you, however, I'm only posting 5.)
One building on Piazza dei Signori is the Palazzo della Ragione, which serves as the town hall.
In its courtyard is this rather elegant staircase built of local red marble in the 15th century.
Each entrance (and if memory serves, there are five) to the Piazza dei Signori has an arch over it. This is the one between the town hall (Palazzo della Ragione) and the Palazzo di Cansignorio (with its 14th century tower and exposed Roman road at the base!).
The Loggia del Consiglio, a Renaissance palace from the 15th century. It's supposedly one of the better preserved and more "splendid" examples of this type of palace, but of course, it's not open to the public. Bah, humbug.
Just off of the Piazza dei Signori is this monument to Gothic stylistic excess: the Scaligeri tombs adjoining the tiny church of Santa Maria Antica. (On the right, over the entrance to the church, is the tomb of Canagrande I, from about 1351.)
These are the collected tombs of the preeminent members of the Scaliger family, which ruled Verona during the 13th and 14th centuries. Their names--particularly Canagrande I, who ruled from 1311 to 1329, and Cansignorio, 1359-1375--pop up positively everywhere in this city. This particular monument is Cansignorio's and was built in 1375.
The rather more understated tombs of Giovanni della Scala (right) and the possible original sarcophagus of Canagrande.
Detail of the tomb of Giovanni della Scala, from 1359. I'm not sure how they've preserved and/or restored this, but sheesh. Look at that detail. Holding up pretty well for being almost 700 years old.
The wrought-iron fencing surrounding the tomb of Mastino II features the ladder--scala, of course--from the family's crest. (Even the fencing here is old; it's from the 14th century as well.)
Ducked into Santa Maria Antica to check out its Romanesque interior (you can tell that it's ooooold, and despite the fact that it was the Scaliger family's private chapel, there's no Gothic foof in here.)
A quick glimpse into the Palazzo del Governo as we were walking past. (This is one of the places Dante lived while he was in the city, between 1303 and 1304, and again from 1312 to 1318.)
Next, we headed over to St. Anastasia, one of the four big churches in Verona that you have to pay to visit, but whose Gothic entrance alone (14th century) was worth the entrance price. Everything I've read claims that those stripes are black and red, but in person, they're a very delicate blue and pink.
Inside, two Holy Water fonts supported by marble people.
...and then, the ceiling. Jeesh. One of the most striking interiors I've ever seen, period.
The Pellegrini chapel (1435), covered almost entirely in terra cotta panels. Unique, in our experience.
Just threw this in there to show you how crazy some of these church interiors can be. Baroque marble and sculpture mixed in with Renaissance paintings, Gothic columns, and a smattering of frescoes and decoration from the 13th century. Amazing.
Then to church no. 2: the Duomo and surrounds. Its foundation dates to the middle of the12th century, but the current building is more-or-less from the 15th. However. The main entrance facade...
...and its griffins were created in 1139. (They know this for a fact. It's signed and dated.)
Detail over main entrance. Just stunning.
The main interior is fine and all, but not nearly as exotic or as exuberant as St. Anastasia's. (Although that semicircular choir screen at the front was pretty interesting.)
And check out these crazy clamshell-shaped overhangs in the side chapels, plus the surrounding quasi-trompe l'oeil frescoes (dated 1503) that go all the way to the ceiling. That was not a small task.
What was far more interesting to me, however, was the church of St. Elena, which is part of the Duomo complex, and was renovated to its present form after an earthquake in 1117. The floor mosaic above is from the original 4th-century church, which obviously stood here even before the one that got earthquaked. (The ancientness makes my brain hurt sometimes.)
They also have this small baptistery church, rebuilt in 1123 in its present form, containing a 12th-century baptismal font carved from a single block of red marble...
...and frescoes from the 13th and 14th centuries.
After a quick tour of the beautiful Canons' Cloister, built after that pesky earthquake...
...we stumbled across a few massive sections of really intricate and shockingly well-preserved 4th-century mosaic floors. Cripes. Stuff is old.
Not kiddin', this place is just gorgeous.
Next, we had a Roman theater to visit, but on the way, crossed this bridge, parts of which remain from the first century BC.
Inside the theater grounds, there's a collection of some rather remarkable carved Roman blocks.
Part of the theater, also built in the 1st century BC, and situated on the river overlooking the bridge and the city center. (But of course, the theater's only halfway up the hill; the top belongs to a castle, don't you know. )
View from the top, under those arches shown above.
It's now used for various summertime performances--with the addition of a little modern seating, of course, and a functional stage.
As we were in the right part of town, we decided to swing by the Giusti gardens as well. These still have the original layout and patterns from the 16th century.
Growly platform overlooking the gardens. Apparently, this was originally built to shoot flames from its mouth. (How awesome would that have been??)
Fountain full of turtles! There were at least 20 in there.
On our way back into the center to get cleaned up before the opera,* stopped in to get a quick glimpse of Juliette's balcony. Or at least, a balcony on the Cappelletti family's medieval palace, the courtyard of which was absolutely mobbed. Ugh. (Um...people know that story was fiction, right??)
And then, it was off to the opera. In this, Verona's famed 1st-century Roman amphitheater.
We hadn't really thought about exactly how they get the stage sets into the amphitheater, seeing as how A) there is no large entrance for such a purpose, and B) they don't actually perform the same opera two nights in in a row. As it turns out, they stack the sets around the exterior perimeter of about half the theater, and swap everything out daily with a crane. It's quite the operation.
We think this was for Romeo and Juliette. Not kidding.
Aida. At least this one was obvious.
And inside the theater, our own stage set! We had pretty good seats, and could see everything going on across the entire stage.**
I figured it was ok to take photographs after the performance, and so I got one or two (without flash, ahem!) during the bows. Which came right after they set off a ton of fireworks behind the stage, but I was too slow to get those. Sigh. That was pretty surprising, and pretty darn fantastic.
We saw The Barber of Seville, as I don't particularly like sad endings (there's enough sadness in real life, I think), and the performance was quite brilliant. I was particularly taken with the guy who played Don Basilio, the scurrilous music tutor; his wig was ridiculous, his acting/choreography hilarious, and he was a bass. Good Lord, what a voice. The only real problem was that, in fact, Verona in August can be a bit wretched: during the performance, it NEVER COOLED DOWN. I ended up fanning myself for nearly 4 hours, despite the fact that the performance started at 8:45 in the PM. (Ugh, I say again.)
And on that note, folks, I'm calling an audible and making Verona a two-parter. Feels long enough, as it is, and this way, I can throw in more photos!
Ooh, one more thing, though... What we're watching, or at least, I am: The Zürich Film Festival is in town, and as I am a complete sucker for documentaries, I went to see a couple. The best I saw was this genuinely affecting and fascinating piece called The Russian Woodpecker. Er, it's a bit tricky to sum up, except to say that it's about a Ukrainian artist exploring the connection between the disaster at Chernobyl and a giant, mysterious radar array nearby. The beauty of the Film Festival is that at many documentary screenings, there's the chance to meet and talk to the director, and so not only was I able to do that, but the subject of the documentary--the artist himself--was there. What interesting, eloquent, and passionate people, and with a remarkable ability to maintain a sense of humor in the face of fear, uncertainty, and genuine danger. Can't recommend the film highly enough, and you'll be able to see it for yourself next week.
Next up: more Verona. It was just too good.
*Did I mention it was nearly 38 or 39 degrees C--that's over 100 Fahrenheit--during the day, the whole time we were there?? It was. Thank goodness, thank goodness, thank goodness for our air-conditioned hotel room.
**As an added bonus, our seats were had armrests and backs and were lightly cushioned, unlike those up in the stands. And I don't feel the least bit bad about that, because A) you could buy seat cushions for like a Euro outside; and B) some of us can control ourselves and manage not to take flash photography during a live performance. Which is bad enough from up in the nosebleeds, but would be even more heinous from front-and-center. Attention, inconsiderate idiots: YOUR FLASH CANNOT REACH THE STAGE FROM THAT DISTANCE. It couldn't even reach the stage from the orchestra pit, for crying out loud. So stop disrespecting the performers and your fellow theater-goers, and put the camera away. Or at least learn how to use it properly, if you must break the clearly- and amply-posted rules. (Actually, all photography and video were banned during the performance, but it appears as though a good number of people in attendance that night were somehow extra special, and so the rules clearly didn't apply to them. But also, don't they ever just want to put the camera down and actually see what they're watching, in first-person real life? They're robbing themselves of the experience, as well.)***
***I'm thinking of renaming the blog "The Rant Chronicles," or perhaps "The Rant Heard 'Round the World." Or maybe even "Jerkspotting." I just really, really hate it when people fail to realize that the world does not, in fact, revolve around them, and that their fellow human beings deserve, at the very least, as much consideration as they expect to be afforded to themselves. (But fear not, loyal readers! You will never appear in this category, for it seems to me a universal and indisputable given that there are no jerks in your ranks. Of this I am certain.)
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