Leaving Milan behind, we boarded a late-morning train bound for Verona, watching the Lombardy countryside unfold outside our window — clusters of vineyards, small villages, and church spires catching the November light. Verona felt like a breath of calm after the pace of Milan: intimate, elegant, and full of stories.
Our first stop was the Arena di Verona, the city’s Roman amphitheater built in the first century. It’s remarkably well preserved — still hosting open-air operas and concerts nearly two thousand years after gladiators once fought here. Nearby, we passed through medieval streets to Juliet’s House, the famous balcony that inspired Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Though Shakespeare never visited Verona, his play forever tied the city’s name to romance. Crowds gathered below the balcony, scribbling notes on the courtyard wall, each one a modern echo of an old story.
Verona’s history runs deeper than its legends. During World War II, the city suffered repeated bombings because of its bridges and railways, which were vital to the German supply routes. After the war, Allied forces — including American engineers — helped repair and rebuild the city’s infrastructure, restoring the bridges that now link Verona’s two halves. Walking along the Adige River, it’s hard to imagine that the same peaceful scene once lay in ruins.
By early afternoon, we boarded our next train and headed east toward the sea — destination: Venice. The approach was magical. The train skimmed across a narrow causeway over the lagoon, and suddenly, there it was: domes, towers, and the shimmer of water everywhere. Stepping out of Santa Lucia Station, we were greeted not by streets, but by canals.
We climbed aboard Vaporetto Line 2, Venice’s water bus, and put on our headphones for Rick Steves’ audio tour. His voice guided us through centuries of history as we glided past the Rialto Bridge, grand palazzos, and bustling piers. He described how Venice, once the richest maritime republic in Europe, controlled trade routes stretching from the Adriatic to the East — and how American servicemen during and after World War II helped protect and later revive the city’s tourism industry. Listening to the stories while the city drifted by was the perfect way to arrive — part history lesson, part dream.
As the sun dipped lower, the Grand Canal turned gold, the sound of church bells mixed with water lapping at the docks, and the kids leaned against the railing, wide-eyed. By the time we stepped off near the Accademia Bridge, the lights were reflecting on the ripples like strings of stars.
That evening, we settled into a quiet restaurant tucked along a side canal — pasta, seafood, and soft music echoing off the water. Verona had given us Shakespeare and Roman ruins; Venice greeted us with beauty and history that felt eternal. Tomorrow would bring island colors, glass art, and the rhythm of the lagoon — but for now, Venice was pure magic.
A quick train over to Venice.
