Causing A Commotion

The Legend Says To Rub Her Right Tata For Good Luck

So here we are in Verona. Very, very happy to be done with Venice. It's quiet here. There are crowds, but they are small. And they don't smell like mothballs/piss/sauerkraut. I don't know if I've always loved Verona because it's Verona or because it's not Venice.

Either way, I don't care. I like* it here.

We arrived at noon and took a taxi to the hotel. Yes, the Romeo and Juliet Hotel. It's actually a really cute place, priced right and located a block away from the Roman Arena.

And it has free wireless internet.

We went for a little walk this afternoon, hitting the main tourist spots and then wandering to the other side of the river and up to the Castel San Pietro for a view of the city from above.

A Hazy Day in Verona - View From Castel San Pietro

After exploring for about three hours, we found a phone to call home and then made our way to Juliet's balcony so Karen could get her picture taken with the statue. And here's where Italy just dropped a few notches in my book.

Don't get me wrong. I love Italy. And my Italian friends? They are wonderful. But there is definitely something wrong with some of the people here. Not all of them. Some of them. These people are making Italy a totally different experience for me. And for Karen, which is what really gets to me most.

Yes, I'm referring to homophobia.

I guess I expected it. This is, after all, home to the Pope and all that business. But I've been to Italy three times, and I've never, until today, not felt safe in my own skin. I've always had a wonderful time in Italy, mostly because the Italians have treated me so well. In fact, sometimes it felt like they went out of their way to make sure I was happy and safe.

Today we went to Juliet's balcony here in Verona, where there is a bronze statue of her likeness. As you can see by GOOGLING THE SUBJECT, the tradition is that you rub her right breast for good luck. People (men and women) have been doing it for decades (which is why you see the shiny spot).

Anyhoo. We waited our turn for a group of Spanish men and women to take their turn getting their photo taken with the statue, and then Karen got up there so I could snap a shot. It was going to be great! In fact, the photo is great.

What you can't tell (or hear) from the photo is the group of Italian men behind us that started shouting when she got up there for the photo. Seriously, my heart just about thumped right out of my chest. I thought they were going to attack us. We didn't even stay to see the rest of the attraction. We just quickly made our way out of there and down the street away from the commotion.

Seriously, it was really messed up.

Karen and I? We're nice people. We are conscious of other people's feelings and their sensitivities. But this? This was fucking ridiculous. Karen's hands were shaking when we walked back to the hotel, and me? I'm still really pissed off.

The good news is that we are moving on to my absolute favorite spot on the planet tomorrow - Vernazza and the Cinque Terre - and hopefully this will just turn into a distant memory while we are hiking on the miles and miles of scenic Ligure trails.

But anyway...in the meantime, if this post upsets you even a little bit, please remember that ballot that came in the mail about ten days ago. Approving Referendum 71 won't fix anything here in Italy, but it can at least assure some degree of equality (yeah, who knew equality had degrees?) at home.

And, as usual, the Big Italian Adventure photo collection has been updated HERE.

*Erm, PS, Karen still really likes Verona. In fact, we're about to go out to dinner and like it even more. But, um....yeah. Sigh.