Verona, Italy
You will need to read my write-up to understand why this is my first posting from our trip to Verona, Lake Garda and Venice.
The day started with a 3:15am alarm clock to allow for last minute checks (did you pack this, where's my thingy, did you turn the water off, are the windows locked, you know the usual last minute panics!), before the taxi arrived at 4:15am to take us to the airport. The journey went quickly and even the check-in, drop-off and passport control went like clockwork (an unexpected bonus and allowed for in Mrs R's excellent planning). Even the flight with Monarch went exceptionally well and we landed bang on time at 10:10am local time at Verona airport. Mrs R had costed all options for getting to our hotel and considering everything was going splendidly we threw caution to the wind and jumped in a local taxi.
Here the fun begins...
If it's a stereotype about Italian driving and Italian taxi drivers in particularly, then our driver was going to live up to this mantel. Queue jumping, lane changing, overtaking, undertaking, tail gating, and late braking were all part of his repertoire. Oh I forgot speed... the roads we travelled on were 70-90km/h but I clocked him at 130-140km/h as often as he could and more alarming... every warning light on his dashboard glowed permanently: engine management light, brakes, oil level indicator, the list goes on! I'm not saying we got to the hotel in record time but I think we arrived on the Friday having left Manchester on the Saturday. I wasn't sure whether to pay him in Euros or Liras as I couldn't determine how far back in time we had travelled - do De Loren's come in white?
Now at the hotel, my plans took over from Mrs Rs. Bags through the door, a quick change and hit those streets and sights of Verona. I had checked my TPE on my phone and knew the first major shot would be Ponte Pietra as the sun was in a good position for a classic sunset shot over the bridge, besides I knew Mark Waidson would be following in my footsteps to Verona and Venice and he's the master of dramatic skies so the pressure was on!!!
I was surprised at how busy Verona was, not with overseas tourists but Italians having their own "staycations". After an hour or two of wandering the streets and main tourist areas we decided to have a break for lunch and a glass or two of wine, as one must when holidaying in Italy! After lunch I suggested we head to the Ponte Pietra for a recky of the bridge for the first night's shot. The obvious route was up through the main tourist areas - Casa di Giuletta, Piazza delle Erbe and Piazza dei Signori before reaching the bridge at its south side... my heart sank! I expected to see tourists crossing it and taking photos from it but the sight of 20 gazebos standing tall high above the stone sides from one side to the other kind of rained on my parade or as I would have put it "pissed on m' chips". Mrs R, ever the optimist suggested I stick to my game plan and revisit in the evening in the hope of said gazebos not being there.
Well, they were there - all bloody 20 of them!
I setup my camera and tripod and waited as sunset time approached... 7:18pm - still they stood.
Then hope played her hand and one by one, they started to come down - 19, 15, 12, 10. 7:42pm - 8 left standing, but still they clung on to spoil the day. Sunset time was approaching fast at 7:47pm and 3 remained, most frustrating of all - right in the centre of the shot, at the apex of the bridge!
My heart sank for a second time that day as the sun set behind the buildings with nothing more to show than a few whispers of clouds showing any hint of colour. 7:58pm - the last gazebo laughed in my face and then bang on cue at 8:00pm disappeared behind the stone walls of the bridge still chuckling to itself having thwarted another photographer's efforts. I was about to pack up when Mrs R noticed the change in the previously featureless clouds behind the distant churches of San Giorgio in Braida and Chiese di San Giorgio in Braida.
Timed at 8:04pm... almost 17 hours after leaving home and my first planned shot of the holiday. The moral of the story is...
Nature and the world don't run to your timetable and you have to make the best of what's in front of you. So this is it, probably the only time I will visit Verona and the Ponte Pietra.
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