La Vita e` Bella: August 2005

Verona 2004

In the late summer of 2004, I joined two friends for four nights of opera in the magical city of Verona.
Because the train stopped somewhere between Venice and Verona, we were forced to take a bus that passed through every village, and dropped people off in the middle of cornfields.

I missed the fancy dinner where every lady received a boutonnier and I missed half of the Placido Domingo performance.
At the station, shamefully but at that hour with no hope for food, I grabbed a McD's and took a taxi to the Gabbia d'Oro hotel where I picked up my flowers and my ticket and hoofed it to the Arena.
I arrived just at intermission so they let me in, reproaching me in Italian for being late to such an auspicious performance.

The weather was so hot that we were not interested in taking day trips to Milano or Brescia. On the first day we did a thorough tour of the town and went to the museums and a couple of churches, climbed that hill, ran through the sprinklers...

After that we would just stroll about, watching and being watched. Beautiful people. We would spend hours at one gelateria, chatting, sketching, laughing and eating one gelato after another to stay cool. Tried a granita and was pleased with it. Ate lots of salad.

One afternoon I went clothes and shoe shopping alone for an infusion of Italian chic and I gave the girls a little fashion show back at the hotel.

In the evening we would return to the hotel to freshen up for dinner and go off to the opera.

We saw Aida, La Traviata and Il Trovatore. I saw it as a brief flirt with Verdi, who I will never like. After this I returned home with my heart intact and still in love with my Mozart.
But deep down, I am not all that keen on opera anyway.

Nevertheless, it was a special experience to sit in such a vast arena with thousands of people, thinking about the Romans who built that impressive structure thousands of years ago, and to feel the cool night air caressing my face.

Props for Aida outside the Arena di Verona

Serenaded on the train from Verona to Venice by Spanish tuneros from the Universidad de Salamanca

Imagine how unnerving it is to be faced with a staring seraphim as you climb in and out of the bath.

The little lobby at our hotel suite in a former palazzo (weren't they all?) - Gabbia d'Oro - a real treat.

San Giorgio in Briola

The River Adige which splits Verona in two.

Going to climb this hill. Bottles of water at the ready...The view is always worth it.

They responded to "Attention!" At the foot of the hill.

After a long climb on a hot day, we were rewarded with a view over the city of Verona

A belaboured knight at the Castel Vecchio

At the Castel Vecchio, a wonderful museum of Verona's history

At the Verona museum of modern art: "Other People's Lives" was a wax goat: hairless, lumpy, beaten and bruised, downtrodden and forlorn. Resigned to his fate. Even a year later I feel heartsick thinking about it.

I've never felt sorry for an inanimate object before. I did so want to cry...

(phonecam) A lovely curving view of the Arena di Verona

Lowering the scary dolly figure into place for the evening's performance of La Traviata. It was a revolving stage tonight.

A view from the top of the arena, where we sat sketching and singing in the blazing sun.

(phonecam) Set pieces waiting in the piazza for Aida

Shiho and me at the special wine restaurant. Watching the waiter serve the wine was like witnessing a beautiful ritual; there was reverence in his hands.