Today, we went to Verona. This time, we had a plan: lunch at a restaurant off the beaten path, a visit to Juliet's balcony [yes, that Juliet of Verona], and a walk through the Renaissance gardens of a knight of Verona. Home by 6:00. It was time to get Swiss about this Italian adventure.
Lunch was fantastic. We are committed to eating new foods, and today Michael and I ordered well. A delicious fresh pasta with garden mushrooms and veal chop for him, three-cheese stuffed zuchinni flowers for me. A glass of light red wine for us both, and fresh, crusty bread to even things out. While Nicki asked if they had a hot dog or grilled cheese [no luck on that, kiddo], he enjoyed Michael's pasta and all four managed to fill up on bread, ham, pasta, melon, mushrooms, and water "with gas". I am proud of their flexibility in eating, as they have all but given up on the idea that there will be a "kids' menu". Children here eat what the adults eat, or not - and go hungry. I love it: cuisine is such an excellent way to understand cultures that I would be very disappointed if they could have boring kids' food at every meal. This way, we don't have to fight it.
Verona is a dream. It is a beautiful city with gorgeous shops filled with the lastest fashions in shoes and clothes. Every little apartment has red geraniums or some other lush, full flower, in a window box, making the whole city alive with natual color. I felt like Ferdinand , and wanted to just sit and look at the flowers [of course, in his case he wanted to sit and eat the flowers, but I think the general sentiment is the same]. People watching is enjoyable, too, as tailored clothes and snappy shoes seem to be the norm: not too much or too silly, just people looking fit and elegant. I suppose the people of Verona must keep a long tradition of looking "just so."
But I have four children! So, off we went to look around. Juliet's balcony is the tourist trap it should be, but lovely all the same. People have put love notes on the wall before her balcony, and just a look around one sees a world full of languages with professions of enduring love. It is all very sweet and romantic, as are the young women who wait in line for 30 minutes or more to stand on Juliet's balcony while their boyfriend/husband/lover snaps a picture or two from below. One woman threw her long, curly, brown hair over her shoulder and puckered for her boyfriend as he took a picture and sent her an air kiss. I loved that moment for them, and for the fact that whatever else is going on the world, people are still in crazy love.
The garden was less touristy. In fact, we were the only ones there. Too bad, for it is a little gem. In it, one can see the tradition of precision and beauty that allows Italians to make some of the finest and most beautiful automobiles in the world. Here, the garden was perfect in its lines and yet still accessible in its design. Michael started races between the kids to make it through the brush maze, and by all counts the kids had a fantastic time. I felt my tradition as "Mama" and the ghost of the mothers before me -- perhaps in the very spot I stood -- as I watched an activity that had gone on for hundreds of years: giggling children running through the garden mazes with glee. To think that in a few years, our children may be professing their love on stolen scraps of paper. It made the moment all the sweeter.
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