O’Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Der in Verona!

2nd - 3rd August

After a long and hard day at work (ok maybe not) how is the best way to relax? Glass of wine? Kicking back with a crossword? No, a sneaky boat ride (or 2) and a nice little train journey to Verona and a night in a hotel with running water (ish) and indoor electricity (just) and a beautiful view!

Ok so explaining the situation al little more, as my friend Ben has very graciously decided to spend a week of her holidays with me I figured that we have to squeeze in as much sightseeing as possible. I’m not sure if she would have preferred the beach and pool all day but I guess it's a little late for that niw (Sorry Ben). As I had finished work I met up with her and we tried to decide on what to do. The following day being a day off opened up a whole world of possibilities, and despite the internet connections best efforts to prevent us from going anywhere we had soon decided to visit the fair city of Verona and spend the night there before calling into Juliet’s for a coffee and a catch up.

I had been given an assignment by Liat during this visit. On my last visit to Verona I was told that my touching of Juliet’s breast did not count because my hand was only at the bottom, I was told I HAD to get a full on grab, it’s not my fault, I don’t know what you’re supposed to do with them. So with a hotel reservation made via telephone (a much more reliable communication device than the internet) we were bus bound. Since Ben had yet to visit Venice, and I, as like most men, am a great multi tasker, decided that it would be a great idea to get the boat to Venice and jump on the train from Venice’s main station as opposed to going to Mestre and catching the train from there.

What's wrong with that?

This idea was great, even if I do say so myself! We saw all of the main sights, Rialto, Academia, St Marks Square etc etc. We got some good pictures too. I even met my favourite ever ticket inspector, yes I know ticket inspector. Although I think public transport over here is extremely over priced if the transport company employ more people like our inspector then I would consider it money well spent! The inspector did not bother to check tickets, after all why should he, it’s not like it’s his job or anything. But better than that, he actually ‘told off’ the parents of children who had allowed their children to climb on the seats. After all they are designed to be sat on, and not designed as an alternative to a trampoline.

OK the journey was pretty uneventful, we bought our tickets and soon the sun set and we were speeding away from Venice and up into the hills. The man who own the hostel which we were staying in had kindly offered to pick us up from the railway station in Verona. Never one to risk missing a lift, I omitted to mention the wheelchair just in case he withdrew his kind offer. Watching him trying to squeeze two people, 2 overnight bags and a full sized wheel chair into a car the size of a Ford Ka I couldn’t help but feel bad for not pre warning this kind fellow.

Once we got to the room he did act a little bizarrely. He was very kind in giving us information on his city and he provided us with a map which he’d photocopied his business card onto, quite ingenious I thought, and quite apt for my current dislike of things computer. After his whole spiel about the area and information on breakfast and of course payment for the room, he decided to sit down on the floor. I forget his exact words, but to be honest I’ve got a niggling feeling he was talking very little about anything important. Then as quickly as he had sat himself down by my side of the bed, he took himself off and went back on with his business.

It was at this point that I forgave modern technology and attempted to charge my laptop. I couldn’t get the adapter in the socket so Ben tried forcing it in. You see someone very foolishly painted over the plug socket and managed to make the holes tiny. A bit of brute force by Ben and the plus was in, but what we didn’t expect to see was the electricity for the entire hostel goes off too. The man came running back and confidently showed me the fuse box in case this happened again, luckily I don’t think that he suspected Ben, so I’ve now discovered that having a wheelchair is a great way to hide anything bad you’ve done, I must put one on my Christmas list.

OK so showered and teeth brushed in the morning we had a nice breakfast at a local cafe paid for by the hotel owner, nice man that he is, upon our return to the hostel I explored a little and found this interesting guide.

Armed with a map and no real plan of where we wanted to go we set off to explore Verona. As last time was so rushed it was nice to be able to do this trip at a relaxed pace.  After crossing the ponte (bridge for those non Italian speakers) we discovered an opening in the ground. The hole was fenced off but below you could see what looked like an old amphitheatre; I was quite impressed it had survived being built over and also survived excavation. 

Later into our walk we found the main attraction in Verona, at least for us, the tunnel into Juliet’s walled garden. This time I was able to spend loads of time reading everyone’s messages. It’s amazing how high the messages go, people must come armed with step ladders and a love with kind of pre planning and fore site definitely deserves to last. 

After probably too long in the tunnel I had decided that it was time to complete my assignment from Liat. I had to go for a full on grab. To have your picture taken there is so difficult, there were far for tourist here this time and they were vicious. It’s amazing how everyone forgets any sense of manners when they’re in a scrum trying to get a picture of a ladies naked breast. I seriously think that the British love of queuing should be taught in other countries that travel because to have your picture taken at this statue was terrible. Eventually I managed to get Juliet to myself and, sadly, I wasn’t a gentleman.

Is That Better?

Surrounded by trinket shops it was inevitable that some souvenirs had to be bought. Ben wanted to visit an art gallery whilst we were in Italy so our eyes were peeled for anything that looked like it may be a gallery. What should we find next, but an art gallery? Squeezing into the narrow doorway (I don’t think that the architects’ had predicted the usage of wheelchairs when the buildings had been designed) and the amazing small corridor that led to the newly added lift we soon found ourselves on the 3^rd floor. A very apologetic Italian lady advised us that the exhibition was closed and that we were welcome to return when the exhibition opened in a few weeks, fine for me but a little pointless for Ben so we turned around and decided to play sophisticated in Verona and order ourselves a coffee, it also gave us a chance to try on some of Ben’s souvenir, and of course write the obligatory postcard. 

Coffee and hot chocolate up we continued with our journey heading roughly in the direction of the train station, we eventually admitted defeat and jumped on a bus, far quicker that way anyway.