Statue of St. Zeno, Patron Saint of Verona
This is called Laughing Zeno.
Cool that he caught a fish and is flashing the peace sign.
When Catbird sat down to plan this trip, Verona was an also-ran, finally included for its geographic placement between Milan and Venice, more than a burning desire to see the land of Romeo and Juliet. Now it is a little scary to think we might have missed this beautiful walled city, with its surrounding river, cobbled foot bridges, muted pastels, crumbling Roman amphitheatre (where we watched stagehands unload props for upcoming Aida), and ubiquitous ancient and beautiful architecture.
Picture balconies as you've seen them on stage for R&J, only they are not stage props. They are stone and plaster and filled with flowers, draped with bright shades to shield against the sun. Plaster painted bright colors, faded under the bright sun, market stalls, kids bunting a soccer ball around in the spacious piazzas. This is no Hollywood movie set; this is Verona.
A narrow alley with sidewalk cafe
One supposes that by the end of four weeks one might tire of ancient churches, but so far we are still much enamored. Catbird remembers (forgive her as she repeats a theme) one oppressive week looking at churches in Belgium, which left her wondering how a religion so dour and intimidating could survive. Here in Italy it's a whole other flavor.
Today Catbird and physicist toured a couple more lovely churches; more lightness and beauty--this might just catch on! One we toured by accident; we'd been looking for St. Zeno's and thought we were deep into it, until a cooler head (the physicist's, looking at the map and reading plaques and things) prevailed. The churches are awfully close together; we counted 21 on the map in the tiny area known as the old city. And not well marked.
In our wanderings, we also peeked at two different archeological digs, where folks bent for hours in the sun scrapy-scrapy-scraping. It looked to Catbird like the mind-numbing back-straining work of weeding the green beans of her youth. One can only suppose they are sustained by a great passion for the work.
Can't swing a dead rat--or begin construction on an office building--here without bumping into a Roman ruin, and that's okay because the need for new buildings is low. My physicist says the birth rate in Italy is 1.8. Since 2.2 sustains population level, there is no need for new housing; hence most construction is of the restorative kind. Far different that USA, where economy depends on housing starts and not on the antiquities that drive tourism.
Stagehands unload props for Aida outside the Coliseum
The oldest landmark and center of Verona is the Roman Coliseum built in the FIRST century and still functional. We wish we were going to be here for Aida, but were mollified to go inside and climb around today. Stage crew was busy welding sets in the hot sun and it conjured images of Catbird's cousin RL who was a stage hand at most venues in Indy and managed Clowes for years. At least here at the coliseum there are no catwalks.
Inside Coliseum,
Stage to the left, orchestra center, expensive seats to the right
We are not sure if Christians were ever sacrificed to lions --or if gladiators did their thing-- in this arena, but either are certainly imaginable. Catbird and physicist didn't require a bloodletting to get het up; just being able to touch our hands to the marble where folks parked their butts and unpacked their lunches all those years ago was exciting in itself. Plus the view from uptop was dizzying.
View from center orchestra seats (AKA terra firma)
Tomorrow: Venice!
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