Like many star-crossed lovers before them (12-3015 Jones v. Biter)

Did I fail to mention in my last post that I chose to travel alone during the week of my wedding anniversary? That's because I'm a bit ashamed that I abandoned my husband during such a momentous occasion. But I'm also quite proud, because although he was clearly jealous of my trip, TJ fully encouraged me to go, only giving me minor guilt trips after the fact. I imposed a guilt trip on myself, too, by being in Verona -- yes, the fair city where Shakespeare lay the scene of one of the most well-known romances of all time: Romeo and Juliet -- on my anniversary.

Fittingly enough, it was raining when I first entered Verona the day before my anniversary. Nonetheless, Via Mazzini, one of the city's main shopping streets, still looked colorful (top). Seriously, the street is so classy that its storefronts are modeled after the Roman architecture that once filled the town (bottom left). Of course, there is still plenty of actual Roman architecture nearby, including Porta Borsari, a gate dating to 1 AD (bottom right).

Actually, the real architectural wonders of the city are the Castelvecchio, a 14th-century castle built atop Roman foundations, and the Arena, the ancient Roman colosseum that is home to massive opera and orchestra performances (top left). Across town and the Adige River, the Teatro Romano every summer hosts stage productions, including Romeo and Juliet (top right). The admission was only 1 euro because the accompanying museum was closed for renovations, but the visit was worth the view of Ponte Pietra, another Roman remnant, and the Cattedral di Verona beyond (bottom left). After I crossed Ponte Pietra, I found some chocolate-raspberry gelato to cheer me up, but it was short-lived as I read all the romantic riverside graffitti (bottom right).

 

 

Among the more modern monuments in Verona is the market of Piazza delle Erbe, which means "herb square" (top left). Towering over the plaza is Torre dei Lamberti, where you can climb steps (or ride an elevator) to see a wonderful view of the city, which is good because after the bells chime the hour, you will have lost your sense of hearing (top right). Atop the tower, I found a love lock attached the railing (bottom), a tradition that supposedly started at Rome's Ponte Milvio but has spread across the county and throughout the world.

To drown my sorrows, I had a pre-dinner drink, a local white wine called Dama del Rovere from Soave, at Antica Bottega di Vini. But I didn't feel much better because there was a man and woman sipping wine and sharing quips, like an old married couple, just a few tables away (left). So I was off to stuff my sorrows instead. I found a good candidate in a calzone the size of my head at Pizzeria Du De Cope. I debated whether to eat the whole thing, but I decided to go for it when all the women at the next table cleaned their plates. In a moment of unbridled restraint, I skipped dessert.

The next day, my actual anniversary date, I devoted my attention to the star-crossed lovers. I visited the Casa di Giulietta, where people rub Juliet's left boobie for luck in love (top left). Incidentally, later that night, as I was trying a local red wine, Masi Valpolicella, at Carro Armato, I read a news story about how the tradition is unlucky for the sculpture because it is deteriorating the bronze facade of the "rich jewel." I also went to the Tomba di Giulietta, but there was no way I was paying 4.50 euro to see a slab of rock that might not be related to the Capulets at all (top right). However, I paid the cash to eat dinner in the building that purportedly was the Montagues' home (bottom left). The restaurant inside is known as Osteria al Duca, where I tried braised carne di cavallo, otherwise known as horsemeat.

Earlier that day, I banished myself to Mantua (Mantova), just like Romeo. And much like the journey of the "exiled rogue," my trip was a bit rocky. When I first got on the train, I had forgotten to validate my ticket, so I jumped off at the last minute to do so, and the doors closed just as I was about to hop back on. My own benefactor, a lovely conductor cut from the fold of Friar Laurence, let me run to the front car and validated my ticket by hand. (By the way, this was a much better moment than when I tried to validate my bus ticket in the change machine.) After getting off the train in Mantova and strolling along Lago Superiore on my way to the old center, I headed straight to Teatro Scientifico Bibiena, an interesting performance space with audience boxes behind the stage where royal families -- feuding or not -- often sat.

The entire city is a UNESCO site, mostly because of the many buildings built by the royal Gonzaga family, including Palazzo di Ducale. I wandered through its courtyards instead of touring inside because a majority of the palace was shut down for restoration (left). The Palazzo della Ragione also was covered with scaffolding, and I tried to ignore the jackhammer noise as I enjoyed a cafe macchiato and a slice of sbrisolona, or "three-cup cake," at Bar Caravatti in Mantova's Piazza delle Erbe (right).

 

With most of the historical buildings under construction, I opted to take a lake tour with Motonavi Andes Negrini. I spied all three lakes while walking in the waterside parks (top left), but I got a closer look at Lago di Mezzo and Lago Inferiore as I rode with a tour group of completely uninterested high-schoolers. Luckily, I was able to block out their antics as I drank it the view of the Basilica di Santa Barbara, in front of the Palazzo di Ducale, from the boat (top right).

Unfortunately, I could not block out all the signs reminding me of the absence of my favorite travel partner. Signs for TIM, a part of Telecom Italia, were as ubiquitous as swans in Mantova and Verona (bottom), but sadly, the real TJ was nowhere to be found.