Verona may not be on everyone’s “must see” list for Italy, but it was high on mine. Having taught “Romeo and Juliet” to both 7th graders and high school freshmen, I was anxious to see exactly what the infamous balcony actually looked like, up close and personal. I eagerly began my day dramatically proclaiming, “But soft! What light from yonder window breaks?”
Verona itself is well worth the time to explore, with fabulous historic and architectural views up and down the river as you cross one of the lesser bridges on foot. The arena there rivals the Coliseum in Rome for beauty and stature, and the cobblestone streets scream with medieval historical significance. A plaque on the side of the Montague’s house reads “There is no world without Verona walls.”
But Juliet’s balcony—the romantic shrine attracting hordes of gawking tourists like myself, well, that small part of Verona was a major disappointment.
For starters, to access the courtyard beneath the balcony, one must walk under a stone archway and through a small tunnel-like entrance. The archway is literally covered with masses of used chewing gum, roughly formed into the shape of hearts, stuck all over the rock walls. Graffiti, in the form of lovers’ names or love notes, blackens the entire interior of the passageway. Our city guide told us it is cleaned off every month or so, but the whole atmosphere of the walkway feels somewhat dingy.
The courtyard is tiny, no more than maybe 30 feet square, and a couple tacky souvenir shops have been crammed in along the opposing wall. There is a female statue on the far side, and the folklore says that if you touch its right breast, you will be lucky in love. I found the display of eager young males standing in line to fondle the now-polished bronze rather stomach-turning, and the four euros to enter Giuliette’s house in order to take a photo of yourselves out on balcony kissing in front of all the other love-struck tourists below, altogether disgusting.
Oh, the balcony itself is all right—except a little closer to the ground than I’d imagined. I blocked out the rest of my surroundings, tilted my head upwards, squinted my eyes, and let the lines that made it famous trip happily through my head:
“O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”
And that would have been enough, had I not learned that day that this particular house has no connection at all with Shakespeare’s fictional characters, and that the balcony was added in 1936 and declared to be “Juliet’s house” to attract euro-spending tourists… just like me. Yet I still consider Verona to be of great literary and historical significance, regardless of those who seek to profit from us poor pilgrims.
“Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.”