Last week, we went to the Duomo and museum in Firenze. While it was a sight to behold, this past weekend in Verona taught me more about the value of love and reverence and admiration than any other city. It’s been my favorite weekend yet.
This past weekend, we went to the “Verona in Love” Valentine’s Day festival in - you guessed it - Verona. To say it was beautiful and lovely would be understating the experience completely. It was surreal. We visited the arena where gladiators fought each other and beasts to the bemusement of the ancient romans. We visited Castelvecchio, where we saw ancient artwork and walls - a true castle. We visited Juliette’s house, where we posted our love letters to her wall, looked out to the courtyard from her balcony, and witnessed a proposal. An endless proposal of love in the city of love on the weekend of love. Fitting.
We visited the top of the tower and saw the city lights, hearts, and celebrations. We ate food, drank wine, and divulged in chocolates. We finished the night off with “Letters to Juliette,” all five of us girls snuggled up on a pull-out couch, content and happy and in love with not only one another, but the weekend, as well. And while this weekend was packed full to the brim with history and art - and I did learn so much from these things - I feel as if I learned more from the people of Verona than any wall or statue I could have seen.
The proxemics of these people! The people of Italia love fiercely and they love publicly. The ethical imperative tells us it is our responsibility to not judge others based on our own culture and experiences. Though I am from America, where public displays of affection aren’t nearly as commonplace as they are here (I will admit, it didn’t much help that we went to the city of love during the saint Valentine’s Day festival), I really don’t feel the impulse to judge. Couples were dancing in the streets to both American and Italian love songs and kissing at the tippy top of towers that cast a brilliant panoramic of Verona. They picnicked in Giuliette’s courtyard, sat on laps in gondolas, kissed on the train, and shared hands and warmth walking through the streets. It doesn’t bother me, it awes me. These people love so openly and freely and so intensely. They are polychromatic, close-proxemic people, through and through. I admire it.
The history of the city coupled with the elusive history of the couples of Verona made for an enigma I would never discover the answers to. And that was okay. This weekend, I was content to be an outsider looking in, admiring, and moving on.
Comments