Mr. Spera and I are up bright and early to meet the donne. My father-in-law wants especially to say “arrivaderci,” pay for the cappucci, and thank Mariella again for her hospitality. Peg, of course, has written a lovely thank-you card as well. The Speras are gracious folks. Only Mariella and the older lady, who is so nice, mom of Rocco and Carlotta, are able to make the cappucci run. This being Tuesday, Pampanin is closed. We visit instead a cozy little spot next to the Duomo.

We drive the Speras to the Verona airport at 5pm. Next stop, Sicilia.

We stayed mostly in-house today, wrote emails, played Bridge. In the early evening, we all walked to Castelvecchio, hit PAM one last time. L. cooks an awesome pot of bean soup, chock full of spinach, pancetta and grana rinds.

Our first visit to this huge antique market last month was on a dismal, cold, rainy day. The vendors had only half their wares displayed, were hunkered down with umbrellas and tarps against the spitting drizzle. Today, with the weather Spring-like and sunny, Piazzola sul Brenta is jumping.

We walk the whole course, Peg buys a set of silver dessert spoons and Mr. Spera another toy tank for his collection. There are lots of Americani, presumably from the US Army base. A woman at the crowded lunch wagon, where I struggle to order our salsicce sandwiches, keeps saying “Por favore” like the Spanish. Well, at least she bothered to say “please” in some language!

We tour the Villa Contarini, where the freschi cannot compare with Montegna, Tiepolo, or the Sala dei Giganti. The best view is from out back where the old palazzo looks roughest and most haunted. The concrete ornamental railings around the dry fountain are crumbling with age, set stoutly in the fresh, mowed grass of the garden walk.

We are back in Verona in time for an “early” cena at Le Ropeton. Our waiter from last Monday remembers us and offers us again that delicious Limoncello.

We are visiting Vicenza, drive there via the A4, everything misty and indistinct. We are at the feet of the Dolomites but can see nothing. Vicenza Centro is deserted when we arrive, mid-pranzo. Lunch spot by the Basillica Palladio is decent.

Mr. Spera spots a US Army boy from the nearby base, strikes up a chat. When he says he’s a Colonel, retired, the kid replies, “Very good, sir.”

We walk down to Teatro Olympico which is dazzling as we remember it, the painted stage set of Thebes with its fanciful perspective. Sadly, they do not allow us a glimpse into the back side of the set as they did on our first visit. Next, it’s Villa Valmarana, where Peg and Paul are suitably impressed by the brilliant freschi of Tiepolo and son. We walk the green smelling garden path which leads to Villa Rotunda, also see the mile long Palladian arcade and the Rococo church where Peg and Paul just miss evening mass.

A light dinner back at the Bixio.

A rainy, grey day in Verona. We don’t do much during the day, play a lot of Bridge, but we have big plans for tonight. On our dog walk this morning, we bumped into Mariella who invited us over to her apartment on Via Mameli for a pre-cena drink. After, we will go to L.’s and my favorite trattoria, Via Stella for a big meal.

Mariella’s husband, Renato, is a sweet guy, plays piano and stand-up bass with a friendly jazz band, is from Sicilia, and has lots of family stuff from the old days – an oaken hope chest from the 1500’s, pictures from the Napoleanic era [Nap II], a rifle from the wars of Garibaldi. Mariella is charming. We have a lively talk in two languages, mercifully steering clear of political subjects. Renato clearly learned his English from the British, he lapses into an accent frequently. Mariella’s dog Teo is rambunctious the whole time, jumping up on Peg and growling with his bone.

Stella is awesome, but not as perfectly great as that time with Ben in January. Peg and Paul were not as blown away as we would have liked, but we have a great time, drink a bottle of the best Valpolicella we’ve had yet, the risotto is perfect and the tiramisu is almost enough to tempt Mr. Spera from his Lenten abstentions.

We all walk home past the mystical Ponte Pietra, lit above the mirrored waters of the Adige.

L. has a deadline, so we get a late start for our trip to Mantova. We’re on a four-car electric train, rolling serenely past the messy agroscapes and one-street towns outside Verona. I have brought along my collected works of Poe, which I bought in Paris. The overwrought, satiric prose of “A Shortness of Breath” has a somnolent effect in the afterglow of our panini [bought at the stazione from a salty Italiano in a cardboard cap]. I’m out like a light for the 40 minute ride.

Arrive in Mantova and it’s on to Palazzo Te which L. and I missed on our last visit. A cool and crumbling old pleasure dome, great freschi of horses, Cupid & Psyche, and a hugely scaled Olympian battle scene with scratched-on graffiti from the 1600’s [Sala dei Giganti].

We are too late to make any more sights, so we wander around Centro a bit. Mr. Spera can’t stop thinking about the next train to Verona, so we eschew a dinner out on the town. Back in Borgo Trento, we buy pizza al taglia, which is pretty great, after all. I knew my father-in-law would love it.

Started work on portraits of Peg and Don McGlashen. I want to emulate the carefully rendered but often imperfect likenesses of Mantegna seen at Palazzo Ducale in Mantova. He was not trying to be a camera. There was, in each of his portraits, a human hand. He painted carefully, precisely, but with so much expression, so much real soul in the eyes.

L. and I have an excellent, if painful, palestra return. Peg and Paul do some shopping and sightseeing on their own. Their favorite spot is Coin, the Italian department store with its skinny escalators and pushy old ladies draped in fur.

We convene at Bixio for cena, gnocchi with spinach and salsicce. Peg brought us a great heap of X-Mas and Valentine’s cookies*, so I’ve got my dolce every evening. Excellent round of Bridge for old Stevie. Mr. Spera, my partner, was proud of me.

*L. note: Thanks to Mom and Dad for the essentials they brought us from the States: Christmas cookies, printer ink, contact lens solution, Ebony drawing pencils and PEANUT BUTTER.

A great day of sightseeing in Verona. We start with the Giardini Giusti, dragging Peg up all the steep walks. So great for L. and I to be back here, was our final bit of sightseeing November 2001, the day before we flew back to C’Ville. We have a fantastic lunch at La Ropeton, near the hostel/old palazzo. It’s a place that we’ve been told about but never visited. Incredible pasta, made in-house, and an antipasti plate to die for. At the end, we are offered a bit of Limoncello which buzzes us a bit for our trip to the Teatro Romano.

What an enchanting spot this is! We view the old stones, paving marble older than Christ, see the little chapel and the cloister of the Museo Archeologico, say “hello” to our bronze head from the bed of the Adige.

If you found a bronze Roman head in the river, would you keep it?