Leaving Venice I trained to Verona arriving in the middle of a hot afternoon. Did I say it was hot? Remind me never to go to Italy in August. Firstly, it is blazing hot and humid and secondly, everyone is at the beach or in the mountains.
Verona is a gracious city north and west of Venice just at the bottom of the Dolomites and the Alps. The town is also not far from beautiful Lake Garda but I rarely go there. Verona hints of wealth and rightly so as it is surrounded by marvelous vineyards, wineries and orchards. Then city is recognized for its famous Roman amphitheatre where they annually have incredible operas and concerts attended by people from all over the world. On one of the nights I was there, they had Carmen for a measly twenty-seven euro but I didn’t go simply because I had no one to go with.
Verona is also renowned for the Shakespearian work, “Romeo and Juliet” though they never really lived in Verona, Juliet’s balconetta is visited by hundreds of thousands of people from all over the world who scribble love notes on paper and do their best to lodge them somewhere between the stones already packed with previous decades of decaying paper, failed hopes and dreams. People desperate to find this fictional location (especially female Japanese tourists) will almost panic if they have already walked long distances in stilettos and have not yet arrived in the alley way. I tried to assist several distraught tourists but since I had no idea of where I was at any given time, I was of little help.
I spent one full day and two nights there and then went on Saturday morning to Trento where I would meet Marcio and Noemi my hosts for the weekend. Even as an extrovert, I occasionally want to get a break from socializing so after more than a week with mostly being with people. I look forward to a day of just walking the streets and taking photographs.
Nevertheless, once my batteries were re-charged I was introduced to Marcio and Noemi people I have been in contact with but had never met. It was a joy to finally see them face to face and see their children.
Marcio and his two small boys waited patiently has my itinerary failed me. I looked on the website and found a train arriving at what I thought to be 10 something but when I got to the station I was told, “Oh, that one only runs during the week.” On Saturday you must take a later train. In any case, after several corrective text messages I arrived, went to the store, to the house out on a hillside and there we ate a nice pasta lunch before going to an area lake where they were engaged in some sort of “Kontiki” races.
Later in the evening, Marcio and Noemi had some lovely Syrian friends over for dessert and I enjoyed speaking English thought the conversation often drifted back to Italian. I speak just enough Italian, well enough for people to think I can follow a conversation so I am often left in a lurch and have to gracefully slide out of the conversations.