July 13, 2012

City of Falling Angels

Lace, glass, history and art.
My favourite things all wrapped up in one fascinating city: Venice.

Having visited Venice before I was no stranger to the winding alleyways, car-less streets and the complex myriad of canals (or at least that's what I thought). The irony of this city intrigues me: everything about it, aged and decaying seems never to get old; there is just so much to explore. The best advice: get lost. Home to my mother and my favourite Italian restaurant -  where we agree, makes the best pasta you will ever taste - a quaint five-table, one woman run operation in the middle of the confusing alleys just off the ever frustratingly popular St. Marco's Square. Seven years on - since my previous and first visit to Venice with my mother - this restaurant has become somewhat of a family secret.

A few kilometers from Venice, fair Verona. Fabled home of the epic love story Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Fruit markets with the most good-looking edible goods you have ever laid eyes on, innumerable numbers of hopeless romantics flocking to see the sight of Juliet's infamous balcony, lovers rubbing the left weathered breast of a statue of Juliet in the hopes that it will in turn grant them with a roaring sex life. 
I bought some cherries. Best ever.

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