In fair VERONA where we lay our scene
From ancient love break new matrimony

Where a civil service made sinning hands clean.

From forth the fruitful loins of these two amigos

A pair of star-matched lovers take their flight.

Oh Verona, another classic location for young love…as long as you keep away from the cool aid I guess. Full of teenage angst, balconies and family feud…no Grant Denyer, thankfully. But, what a perfect place to prove that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, as with the now Mrs Stewart.

With about 20 hours in Verona, we quickly knocked out the main sights, such as: the homage to marketing that is Giulietta’s house, complete with manufactured balcony, where out of respect to the brilliant men and women, who devised the money spinning scheme, we used our Verona passes to gain free entry; and, “tight arse” tower that saved €1 each, but gained us about a thousand stairs. After such a climb, we decided we well deserved some prosecco, amounting to ~€15…when will they learn.

We visited some Roman stuff, some medieval stuff, mostly destroyed by fleeing Germans, Lea bit her thumb at an old foe and devoured a plate of ham (“who sir, me sir?”, oinked the pig) and mozzarella and had an amazing room, that we were barely in, the “Romeo e Giulietta” room!

The real reason for our stop in Verona was to go to the opera (two in two days! Malto culturo). Romeo e Giulietta (a French opera based on an English play about Italians) was on and was playing in the open air, 2000 year old Roman, Verona Arena. Which we thought was a perfect chance for another once in a lifetime experience, and it was…we can’t wait to do again!

As we sat on the old stones, thinking we should be comparing the PFJ to the JPF, and realised that maybe climbing all those stairs wasn’t such a good idea. For millennia people have been sitting here, trying to make an arse groove with no success. Even with more at our disposal, trying to do it in four hours was pointless. We had thought (as previously described) the singers at La Scala were prima-donnas, but the conductor at the arena relegated them to seconda-donnas. Post an interval (not an intermission, in an intermission you can drink, in an interval you get yelled at in Italian) in an amphitheatre, with 15000 Italians, he would not start until there was complete silence and all of a sudden began screaming at the crowd. Apparently if he’s not able to contribute anything musically or vocally to the performance, nor can we. Thankfully he didn’t put a stop to the incessant hand waving, which created a pleasant breeze. We didn’t have subtitles, so not sure how it all ended, but I think it all worked out well with the main couple running off stage towards a bright light, with big smiles.

That’s it from this quick stop, time to hit the road and see where it leads…

Goodnight, goodnight.

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

Ne’er was there a story or less woe than this of Lea and her James…eo.