All's well that ends with a Palazzo

 Friday 15/Saturday 16 May

So it wasn't looking great but in the end I had a nice day in Mantua (Mantova in local lingo, like Padua becomes Padova), redeemed by the magnificent Palazzo Ducale which was a quite spectacular end to bimbling about in the cold, grey and wet. 

The hotel ordered me a taxi to the station where there was a lengthy delay on the Mantua train and when a platform was announced, I had to share it with many over-excited school kids off on a day trip - and wherever I went in Mantova, there they were. Or maybe it was a different group. Further chaos ensued when there was a platform change which, owing to the noise of said youth, was communicated by word of mouth and crowd movement rather than a tannoy announcement. Thank goodness for the lifts I've been able to take advantage of on Italian stations where platforms are accessible via basement tunnels like Clapham Junction.

The rain was relentless when I reached Mantua but fortunately the hotel was across the road from the station - not that you could see it, as it was covered in scaffolding, with the reception accessible via a kind of tunnel. The lady on reception was helpful and welcoming and took me to my room - I had seen a photo, but it really was like a cell. The hotel dining room extension backed on to it and its glass roof made the sound of the rain even worse, so rather than dash out and get really wet I caught up on the blog. 

Although I'd chosen accommodation that was close to the station, it wasn't that close to the old town so I had a 15-minute walk. It was lunchtime so I dived into the Miro  caffe opposite the Duomo, which was full so the very handsome proprietor took me in the very tiny lift (cheap thrill) to the upper floor where I sat in splendid isolation under a surprisingly beautiful ceiling and had a very tasty piadina, followed by a trip to their very nasty stand-up loo in the basement (having had to wait for schoolkids using it - the lack of public loos in Italy makes life awkward for everyone).

The Duomo was very beautiful (as was the cathedral which I visited later, see the golden bishops below) with every surface above the dado (sure that's not the right word) was covered in frescoes or trompe l'oeil, with a gorgeous cupola. There was also a little ancient rotunda church

I walked some distance through the back streets to take a look at a restored synagogue I saw on the map, but when I got there it was shut and viewing was by appointment only. A food festival was starting up with tents in the main square, but it didn't appear to be getting going until the next day. I walked past the launch event in the town hall, where there was a plethora of carabinieri (most of them standing around smoking, chatting or scrolling through their phones) on hand - they were obviously expecting big trouble with the local populus without tickets and not on the list expected to gatecrash the foodie party.

I visited the Sonnabend art collection, which was very very modern, with the likes of Koons, Warhol, Rauschenberg, Lichtenstein. Some I liked, much I didn't - I still don't understand why Jeff Koons thought a child's blow-up dolphin swim toy needed to be suspended above a load of shiny saucepans. (The Warhol screen print is of the collecto, Ileana Sonnabend, who spent a great deal of time in the US patronising the arts)

A mid-afternoon gelato (accompanied by the schoolkids) made me understand the difference between artiginale and the common or garden. The latter contains preservative which enables it to be whipped into the attractive peaks you see. The good stuff is under steel lids so you just focus on the flavours - and you can actually notice the difference, really.  

Last port of call before dinner was the Palazzo Ducale. I left it until the kids had disappeared (it was open until 7pm), and almost didn't go at all, but was so glad I did as it was stunning. It contains the main collection of ancient statues, bas-relief sculptures, frescoes and tapestries from medieval to post-Renaissance times in northern Italy, accumulated by the Gonzaga dynasty who ruled the dukedom of Mantua for nearly 400 years, from 1328 until the Austrian empire swallowed it up in the early 18th century. Their wealth (they even minted their own coins for most of that time) must have been enormous, although there must have been a dip in cashflow at some point as part of the collection of Roman busts (see below) was acquired by Charles I of England - though obviously that didn't go too well for him...

The condition of the works was amazing - yes of course there was a nose, arm or breast missing here and there, but the idea that these pieces were so very old and still here was astonishing. I was especially impressed by the 11 Caesars painted on canvas by Titian (I've included the most handsome one below - some of them were chubby mingers I can tell you!), and the 64m long gallery of Roman busts including all your faves like Claudius and Marcus Aurelius, as well as Ignoti and Ignote (unknown men and women). The Roman bust gallery collection was completed in 1600 - as mentioned, Charles I of England acquired some of it but it all came back.

There's also a very fine coin collection over 2000 years, including those minted by the Gorganzas. In the Museo, there were crystals, fossils, shells and paeleontological remains, bones, eggs, stuffed animals and birds, displayed in four rooms known as the Metamorphoses. On to the Ducal apartments with stuccoed ceilings, frescoes and huge portraits. Even the corridors are beautiful. The wealth displayed is incredible, but unlike an English stately home, you won't find any furniture and very few objects, but somehow that didn't matter - my jaw remained dropped for quite a substantial part of my visit.

Settling on a dinner venue was a bit challenging as a lot of restaurants weren't opening until 7.30 which I know isn't that late by Italian standards - but I made a good decision and settled for the Scaravelli ristorante, a brand with a big presence in the town with a bakery and caffe opposite. I had a delicious beef stew macaroni, a chocolate mousse and some nice light Bardolino - and unlike other places in Bologna later in my trip, I was welcomed and served in prompt and friendly fashion...

The following morning, I had time to kill until my train back to Verona and then on to Bologna (be warned if you decide to visit Mantua - there's a big mid-morning gap with trains either way to and from Verona, which is a kind of branch line). I paid a bit extra to have breakfast as there wasn't much round about the area, but had a near-death experience when the sizeable vitamin pill I was trying to take surreptitiously with my juice so as not to draw attention to my slightly embarrassing multiple vitamin/supplement daily routine, got caught in my throat. What's Italian for Heimlich manoeuvre? No juice, swallowing or quiet coughing was dislodging the miscreant, so I hurried back to my room and after much effort and disgusting noises returned to my breakfast and tried to appear as though nothing had happened.

I had decided to visit Palazzo Te, about a 20-minute walk away, set in acres of parkland and one of Mantua's big attractions. Also conceived and built by one of the Gorganza dynasty, after the Palazzo Ducale its scope and ambition was still impressive but somehow not so thrilling. Designed by Guido Romano, it was intended to be a kind of Utopia outside the city walls, a place for hunting, shooting, fishing and general bohemian pursuits. Again, lots of freschos, mosaics, lunettes and bas-relief sculptures, and a Chamber of Giants with frescoes of figures ten times human size - but to my surprise, when I looked closely, scratched everywhere with graffiti. There's even a room featuring horse frescoes that also served as the stable block. However, as you can see I didn't take that many pictures as I didn't feel so inspired - in fact my favourite bit was probably the Secret Garden with its grotto, and the inference that people would hide themselves away in its apartment for a dirty weekend back in the day. 

Back to the hotel to pick up by bags, haul them across the road to the station to catch a train back to Verona where I ate bad pizza during a lengthy wait before getting on a delayed Frecciarossa (nice trains, shame about the bloody steps when you have luggage! the Regionale trains have low and high levels!) to Bologna, arriving at little after 4pm, and where the Stazione Centrale is proudly announcing the prossimo aperto of a Pret a Manger...

I'm writing this before leaving Bologna in the morning for my train to Milan and the flight home. Last instalment will follow once I'm back in Blighty...

Juliet's balcony is bogus, apparently

 Wednesday 13 & Thursday 14 May

So why did the walking tour guide recommend we buy tickets online and it seems impossible to buy a single fridge magnet without  R&J featuring, or the Arena which was a total rip-off?

Somebody, somewhere just found a house that looked like the Capulets (real powerful family, along with the Montagues though probably spelt differently) might have lived there, and it had a balcony that looked like a young girl (let's not forget she was just a teenager and not even at the current age of consent!) might have mooned over her new fella under cover of darkness. And the myth became a tourist attraction. And no, I didn't go.

Anyhoo, Verona is lovely albeit rather more (much more) touristy than Vicenza, a city with architecture stretching over four distinct eras - Roman, Medieval, Venetian, Modern. Yet again Google Maps sent me the wrong way around from the station after a short trip from Vicenza (though not helped with the correct path actually being closed off). Arriving at my 2-star hotel in a sweaty heap (who needs a Body Pump class with my luggage?), I dropped off the bags and set off with a map in hand - my favourite thing, even if it was the one for the Hop On/Off tour - it was enough and freed me from the evil of Google Maps for a time. I was much closer to the centre this time - everything within walking distance, including a restaurant I visited twice as it was welcoming and reasonably priced, and a launderette, which was a very clever thing but not reasonably priced. (5 euros wasted on a loyalty card when I could have just used it as a guest - which still cost me 10 euros for a small wash and short dry cycle. I live and learn - Miele Bloomest card anyone? Will have to tuck it away for next time.) 

The Hotel Siena was sweet and the staff lovely, and a balcony with a front aspect was a bonus for me, but I couldn't swing any cats in that bathroom and spent the entire time trying not to trip over the shower tray on the way to the loo, and getting caught up in the shower curtain and attempting not to flood everything while attempting my ablutions. I always know there's going to be trouble when I see a drain in the bathroom floor...

I found the place for the walking tour I'd booked at 3.30pm so had time to check in at 2pm and unpack a bit before setting out. As the forecast showed no rain, I had been bold and put on a sleeveless summer dress and Birkenstocks, which earned me some puzzled looks from Italians in padded jackets and boots (echoes of Milan October 2014). The walking tour started at the Arco dei Gavi, originally part of the Roman defences as a gate into the city, hidden by burial underground from Napoleon who despised all things Roman, then discovered, resurrected and painstakingly rebuilt after WW2. It's right next to the Castello Vecchion and some very robust walls and a bridge.

The walking tour was ok in terms of an overview, but the guide wasn't great - he told a lot of very bad jokes, treated us like children and kept touching people on the arm and shoulder, which didn't seem very appropriate. He focused very much on the era and stories of a ruler of the city who renamed himself Big Dog (really - Grand Cane, and he had similarly-named successors), rather than giving us much more in the way of history.  And with a group of 20, he really should be using a mic and headsets! I only left 5 euros tip which seemed a bit mean, but I only had a 20 note and he certainly wasn't worth that!

We finished up at the Arena, which I decided to visit next day (really shouldn't have bothered), and I headed back to the hotel. Dinner was pizza at a casual joint up the road, because sometimes you just have to, and Valpolicella. Which is and always has been one of my favourite words in Italian. I even had a second one at the faux-German bar opposite the hotel.

Thursday forecast had promised rain, so rain jacket on,  but it didn't materialise until the afternoon - and then by 'eck did it chuck it down so hard, along with plenty of thunder and lightning, it cut my sightseeing short.

While the sun shone I took a different route into the main square, then found myself in the main shopping street, Via Mazzini. Anyone who knows me will be surprised at my self-restraint - I didn't even buy a fridge magnet. Made my way to the Duomo - I didn't pay to go in as judging by the photos it looked more impressive from the outside, ditto the Teatro Romano across the Ponte di Pietro which seemed to be mainly covered in scaffolding.

 

I lunched early as I'd bought a ticket for the Arena and had to be there for 2pm - had come across a small trendy restaurant near the Duomo with an appealing menu and a beautiful bathroom, with free nappies that obviously tell it like it is...

The Bucatini Amatriciana was good but extremely rich and very salty and I needed to walk briskly afterwards to digest it. A quick macchiato and a caffe sospeso (such a lovely idea) and I headed for the arena. Well - my advice is, if in Verona, don't waste your money even if you get a ridotto ticket for being old. Just admire it from the outside. 

Inside, so much of it isn't accessible (lots of red and white tape forcing you to go a certain way), there's really not very much information about its history, and you can't really stand in the middle of it and imagine being a gladiator as it's full of rows and rows of seats for the many concerts that take place there (which would probably be a cool thing to do instead). You can sit on the terrace and admire its size, but I would also say don't go when school parties are likely to be there as it's full of kids having fun screaming at each other across the divide  (I didn't have a choice, as my requested time later in the day was changed by the ticket issuers).

The saving grace after that disappointment was my next stop, the Palazzo Maffei near Piazza Signori (spectacular views of which can be gained from the roof terrace, included in the admission price, though you can purchase separately if you really don't want to look at the amazing art collection.) 

It really was one of the most interesting and eclectic collections I've ever seen, with modern art (much of it early 20th century, Futurist and including the likes of Picasson, Braque, Klee and Warhol and the Italian artists they influenced) and objects presented alongside the Medieval and the Renaissance. It was a real highlight and I took gazillions of photos - here are just a few. Many of them came from a philanthropic private collector who was interviewed in a short video I watched. He said that he took inspiration from an artist who once said that his art died if it couldn't be viewed by everyone. There was also a quote from Picasso who questioned why people put so much effort into understanding art, when we don't try to understand a bird of the sky - good point, I thought, especially as I am from the "I know what I like" school of art appreciation. 

I'd intended to go on the San Zeno di Maggiore, a highly recommended church, and walked most of the way but was eventually defeated by rain bouncing off the pavements and splashed back to the Hotel Siena. After catching up with the blog and the inevitable packing, I headed out for FRZ down the street, a gin/cocktail bar where I was introduced to the producer of a very new gin called Tromba (because he plays the trumpet!) and had a very nice citrussy G&T. 

I had hoped to have dinner in Casa d'Amore, a little place again only a block away, but it was full so I went back to my lunch spot of the previous day, where I embarrassed myself by ordering extra potatoes in error with my secondi - which I have come to understand is basically meat and potatoes. Bless their hearts, they didn't make me eat them and took them off the bill, as they had done with my superfluous insalate mista the day before. I really am going to keep up with those Italian lessons...