Romeo and Juliet Lived Here | Verona
View of Verona – from Castel San Pietro
I have quit many runs before, for various reasons—exhaustion, injury, or simply not having the mental energy. But until Verona, I had never quit a run because the place was overwhelmingly beautiful. That’s exactly what Verona, the city of Romeo and Juliet, did to me. Its beauty wasn’t just captivating; it was overwhelming.
The drive from Sirmione to Verona was a brief 30 minutes. The approach was deceptively ordinary, with modern apartments, gas stations, and functional urban sprawl lining the way. But then, as if crossing an invisible threshold, I entered the heart of Verona. Suddenly, the city wrapped me in its timeless elegance. I navigated the streets along the River Adige, the water reflecting the soft morning light. Seeking a place to park, I stumbled upon a spot near a castle perched on a hill—Castel San Pietro. The parking was free—a rarity in any city and a pleasant surprise.
The steps leading up Castel San Pietro Viewpoint
After gearing up in my running clothes, I stepped out and made my way to the front of the castle. The view stopped me in my tracks. Below me, Verona sprawled out like a painting come to life, a sea of terracotta-red roofs stretching into the horizon. The city was bathed in a golden glow, the rooftops and spires shimmering as though kissed by the sun. The River Adige snaked its way through the city, its banks lined with ancient stone bridges and stately buildings. I stood there, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty, knowing my run that day would be unlike any other.
Descending the castle’s stone steps, I felt like I was entering a world suspended in time. The stairs led me past a famous bridge—Ponte Pietra. Four arches of the bridge were blown up by retreating German troops in World War II, but its restoration only added to its charm. Its arches reflected in the river below as I turned right to follow the Adige. My planned 12-mile run quickly shrank to five—not out of fatigue, but because I found myself slowing down, taking in every detail.
The Streets of Verona
After my short-lived run, I wandered through the cobblestone streets, each one more enchanting than the last. My steps led me to the famed Juliet’s Balcony, a magnet for tourists and romantics alike. The small courtyard below was packed with visitors, many eager to rub Juliet’s bronze statue for luck. I skipped the tradition, content with the luck I already had, and continued exploring.
The Piazza
The piazzas of Verona are vibrant and alive, framed by cafes and trattorias spilling out onto the streets. I found a seat at a small café, ordered an espresso, and let the city’s rhythm wash over me. The scent of fresh pastries mingled with the faint aroma of stone warmed by the sun, and the sound of distant chatter blended with the occasional burst of a violin from a street performer.
Verona’s charm lies not just in its history but in the way it wears its beauty so effortlessly. The city is a living museum, its streets and squares telling stories of love, art, and resilience. Even as I left Verona and returned to Sirmione, the city lingered in my mind, a vivid memory etched in red roofs, ancient stone, and the gentle flow of the Adige.
