We spent two nights in Verona to meet up with some friends for an evening of opera (Aida) at the Roman arena. It was beautiful. Long, but beautiful. And though admittedly I’m not an avid opera fan, the experience of Aida in Verona in the dead heat of the August summer in an ancient Roman arena is pretty incredible. A crescent moon, open air, zero microphones and a live orchestra. It felt like traveling back in time. The raw heat and juxtaposition between ancient and modern times was unforgetable. The marble was still emanating the day’s heat by the time the show finished at 1am.
Verona is flambuoyantly beautiful. The architecture is much the same of that in other Italian cities, like Florence, but with a grandeur and flirtatiousness that can’t easily be described. Balconies are ornate and adorned with hanging vines and flowers. Frescoes hundreds of years old cover apartment blocks. Smooth marble streets wind through the old squares and shopping districts. There is on overwhelming romance and sensuality to the place that is only apparent after you leave.
At Juliet’s house (yes, Shakespeare’s Juliet), there are walls covered in love notes. It seemed so corny when we were there, especially because the place was packed with tourists, but in hindsight it really was quite beautiful. Love’s hopes and dreams plastered on the walls – in sticky notes, pencil, paint, pen, or marker. And in every language and colour imaginable. It was the best user-generated art I’ve seen – inspired by Cupid’s arrow. So magical.
All of Italy can be described as sensual – warmly colourful, so delicious in its tastes and textures, beautiful just for the sake of being beautiful. Traveling through it is like falling in love – you just have no idea how hopelessly enraptured you are until it’s too late. And really, isn’t that the only way to live our days?
