Verona, yet another of Italy’s spectacular cities packed with history, is known above all for those blighted (“star-crossed” is the word) lovers: Romeo & Juliet. It sits at the southern end of the Lago di Garda where I recently spent several days with Italian friends (read more here). On my way home, I needed an overnight stop in Verona to catch the (ultimately delayed of course) morning flight. So, after a hiatus of some 50 years, I found myself back in this legendary, two millennia-old city. Nor was there a problem finding authentic local food – even if weird.
Roman arches
Every visitor heads for the Arena, a beautiful Roman edifice dating from 30AD that still hosts spectacular operas throughout the balmy summer evenings – though sadly the gladiators are long gone. You can book tickets here. A few decades ago, while living in nearby Padova, I was lucky enough to see a spectacular performance. As I vaguely remember elephants lumbering across the stage it must have been Verdi’s Aida.
This time round, I staggered to the arena from my hotel in searing afternoon heat (mid-30s C – about 95°F), weaving through hordes of tourists and keeping mainly to shaded backstreets. Suddenly, there it was – dramatic and unmissable, though hardly better than its twin in Nimes which I revisited last autumn – just 70 years older.
A medieval lunch-spot
On the way I stopped for a much needed late lunch at the first place I found – bang opposite the great hulk of the Castelvecchio, an intimidating medieval castle overlooking a bridge across the river – built to keep out those aggressive Venetian neighbours (read about Venice here) when Italy was a mosaic of city states. Fabulous view – but not the greatest (overpriced) lasagna. Still, better was to come later.
Like most Italian cities, much of the enjoyment comes from exploring aimlessly so this was what I did, having decided that la Casa di Giulietta (Juliet’s House) was just too far in the sizzling heat. So I missed that fabled balcony of the Capulets’ 13th century palazzo – “oh Romeo”? No doubt there would have been a forest of smartphones to negotiate before even getting a glimpse.
Verona’s monastery hotel
My greatest surprise was discovering that, unknowingly, I had actually booked into a monastery hotel. Scouring available Verona hotels in haste before I left London, I opted for a decent-looking, affordable place right by the old city centre, Domus San Bernardino. With a flight the following morning, I wasn’t too bothered about luxury – more about price, shower, wi-fi, breakfast and a tranquil night’s sleep. That they had – but no mention of monks. So when I returned there to recover from my explorations it was a surprise to pass an open gate leading into a large cloister. Inquisitive as ever, in I went.
What a revelation. Surrounding the cloister was a series of harmonious, pastel-hued frescoes painted to fit the vaulted ceiling – some peeling, but still evocative of their period, the 15th century. These were all part of a sprawling Franciscan monastery where monks still live – though, to my chagrin, I never saw any (my room was actually in a modernised section above the library).
Once inside the church, I discovered more remarkable Renaissance paintings – including some by Paolo Veronese, as well as a barrel-vaulted chapel with 16th-century frescoes by Nicolo Giolfino. I confess I’d never heard of him, but the baroque effect was dramatic. All in all quite a find, not one single tourist in sight and only my own smartphone.
Hunger strikes!
Later, as the sun faded, I headed out in search of dinner. What I wanted was an uber-traditional place serving authentic Veronese food. I soon found it, just a five minutes walk. On my way, the sinking sun spotlit the walls of the medieval castle before I turned down one of those typical narrow streets to enter the Osteria La Vela.
Donkey? Horsemeat? No – truffles!
An osteria traditionally refers to a northern Italian wine-bar or tavern which serves simple food in an informal setting. This was indeed the case at my chosen one. Compact, old-fashioned and full of quirky decoration, plus a friendly old couple running it – I was immediately entranced. And a few empty tables too – success!
The short yet intriguing menu turned out to be typical of Verona. No doubt to the horror of many Anglo-Saxon punters, they offered chunky bigoli pasta with DONKEY sauce as well as horse stew with polenta! Those poor old nags. Authentic yes, but definitely not for me. Instead I opted for tagliatelle with truffles and mushrooms, a simple gastronomic delight, accompanied by a crisp, sparkling, local wine – Durello, one up on frothy, clichéd Prosecco, its neighbour.
A dish I missed out on as I had no more appetite was a dessert of chocolate salami… I may have to return just to investigate that curious combo and sleep under the protective wings of those Franciscans again.
Addendum
If, like me, you find yourself stranded at midnight at Verona airport on arrival, having intended to travel onwards but delayed by your budget airline (Ryanair), then I recommend a friendly hotel just 10 minutes away by taxi, Hotel Gattopardo. Nondescript outside but with very comfortable rooms and charming staff.
