So, Verona is the setting for a little-known play, titled "Romeo and Juliet," which is a love story (who knew?). The playwright, Billy Shakepeare set the story about feuding families, the Hatfields and McCoys, and the young couple from each family who fell in love and then tragically (never mind, if you've never heard of the play, I don't want to give away the plot).
(Editor: OMG Glen -- everyone's heard of the play, they know how it goes, and the feuding families is the Montague and the Capulets. And besides, the playwright -- aka the greatest playwright ever -- is William Shakespeare, not "Billy."
Writer: Hmmm. Well, his friends called him Billy! Heck, he was so well-known in the day that he sold his invention, "Billy Beer" to supplement his lowly writer's income. I still refuse to give away the plot twist about the sleeping potion Juliet takes that causes Romeo to think she's already committed suicide, so he actually drinks the poison, and dies. Juliet wakes up as planned, sees Romeo dead, and then kills herself with Romeo's dagger. It's the first recorded fake suicide, suicide, suicide in history. Anything since then is just plagiarism.
Editor: Get on with the blog post, please.)
So anyhow, Verona is making big money off the whole Romeo and Juliet story, including a fake grave for Juliet, a balcony in a courtyard that a tour guide in the 1970s dubbed her balcony, a statue of Juliet that, well, I'll save that for later.
Apparently tour buses of Asian tourists make one stop between Milan and Venice, and that's to stop at the Juliet courtyard.
So we went to the mob scene that is the House of Juliet's courtyard because, well, you have to see it to believe it. The courtyard is full of paper love notes affixed to the wall with chewing gum (pro tip -- don't lean against the walls. I didn't do it, but I saw someone else do so. Nope, I only, without thinking, put my hand up against the wall as I was fighting through the crowds and found gum stuck to my hand. Yes, all the gum on the wall has been chewed. Yes, it is as gross as it sounds.)
There is a mailbox for love letters to Juliet (spoiler alert -- she's dead). There is a long line of people waiting to pay to get into the museum in the building, and go out for a quick photo on the balcony. Carol and I did neither.
But, the weirdest part of the fiction is the bronze statue of Juliet. The tradition is that those hoping for love polish Juliet's bronze right breast. What we learned that the breast is not rubbed primarily about those "hoping for love" because there were seemingly hundreds of giggling 11-12 year old Italian boys on field trips who were eagerly copping a feel. It certainly seemed more creepy than a lovely tradition.
(Editor: And? Writer: No, I did NOT cop a feel. Ick.)
We fought our way out of the courtyard and the noise and the creepy boys going through puberty. No wonder the divorce rate is 68.8 out of every 100 marriages in Italy. By the way, according to my quick googling, the divorce rate in the United States is less than 15.
The best thing about the Juliet courtyard is leaving, because when you turn out of the alley, the cacophony of overeager 11-12 year old Italian boys, Asian tourists, and swooning young women drops to a dull roar as you leave the noisy hellscape behind.
It's worth seeing the spectacle, because when you think about the places you'll want to go back to in Italy, you'll keep the Juliet courtyard scene off your list.
1 comment:
Which would be worse? Holding on to a subway handrail, or touching Juliet? 😊 Thank you for sharing your travel experiences.
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