II.ii. The March of Verona

"There is no world without Verona Walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
Hence banished is banish’d from the world,
And world’s exile is death."
- William Shakespeare

As the 7:37 train from Bologna headed north across the Po Valley plain, the fog grew denser and gloomier. This was not the light morning fog that burns off after a few hours. This was a hazy sort of fog, a northern fog caused by the cold air cascading down the southern slopes of the Alps and colliding with the warmer Mediterranean mass. Visibility was limited to barely more than twenty metres, and when I arrived in Verona things had hardly lifted.
    Nevertheless, this was not going to spoil my outing to Verona, which is perhaps the most beautiful city in Northern Italy besides Venice. Bologna fares well, and it has other attractions, but it lacks the intimacy and charm of Verona. After all, this was the city of Romeo and Juliet, with throngs of tourists and young passionates alike visiting a certain balcony here, a certain tomb there, all hoping to catch a glimpse of Shakespeare’s romance. In reality, the playwright never even visited the place, though certain old chroniclers attest to the two star crossed lovers having existed…
    But I was not in Verona for Shakespeare. I was in Verona for Art, and there was much of it to be seen. To visit the churches here one must purchase a ticket sold rather shamelessly by the city. Luther would have had a field day, but perhaps he didn’t know tourists, who loudly run amok in these places and defile them by treating them like museums. I can’t say I wouldn’t count myself apart from those visitors entirely, but inversely I certainly never would be able to slip by the ticket booth without paying like the old local women, obviously there just to pray. I tend to pace around in Churches, daydream, wander around, touch things if no one is looking, and sit down in a pew to rest. Nothing too transcendental, I don’t think, at least not in the conventional sense.
    But, from the sublime to the ridiculous that is Italy, on my way from San Zeno Maggiore to the Castelvecchio museum I stumbled upon what I had secretly been searching for in Italy- a Euro Store. Here, in a slightly more elegant guise, was all the consumerism of the dollar store, with none of the irony and substantially less buying power. I was astonished to find that most of the goods inside (yes, I went inside) were labeled in Spanish. I suppose for general purposes it is good enough, someone thought. Could it be that no one in Italy would deign to label such low-quality mass produced goods, this being the land of hand made suits, shoes, and cars?
    But consumer culture is somewhat quirky in Italy, and later in the day once all my visiting was done I was rather astonished to stumble upon a Canadian themed store called "Canadiens", seemingly not in reference to the Hockey team, or the illustrious history of the coureurs-des-bois. No, it seemed as though all Canadiens meant here was a misspelling designed to appeal to the upper class Italian who had never been, nor ever had the desire, to visit such a cold land that made such stylish winter wear.
    But I was not brave enough to enter Canadiens and look around, despite my birthright. I only stepped into the doorway to take a photo and when the woman gave me a strange look I explained that I was Canadian, and that these things amused me. On my way out I noticed the price tag on a wool sweater that looked like it came from Roots: 358 Euros. That amused me even more.


The glorious interior of San Zeno Maggiore, with, in the distance, Mantegna’s altarpiece that Napoleon once stole and brought to Paris


The lions of the famous red Verona marble, slightly paler than the stone of Bologna


Not quite the buying power of Dollarama, but still quite a bargain


A dubious brand name good


I was astonished to find a Canadian-themed outerwear store in the centre of Verona…


… complete with RCMP style manequins


Yet I do wonder what Dante would have thought of all this, he who spent some quality exile time in Verona