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... crammed in there at any given time. Towards the back of the courtyard is a bronze statue of Juliet, and it is said that if you rub her right breast you will return to Verona (much like the Wild Boar snout in Florence), so naturally every person within reach of her (we were too far back and didn't try) was having a good old rub of Juliet's boob. It has been polished smooth over time. Classy. Over the last week I've somehow managed to probably pinch a nerve in my right foot, so ...
... to the historic arena, locked up the gear and
started to stroll. We had a coffee in a pavement café in front of
the arena, and wandered down the shopping streets until we came
across the market square. More coffee, or maybe beer followed.
Every street we turned down led to a hidden square, fabulous old
architecture or something else of interest. This city proved to be
the unexpected gem of the holiday and it was a pity we did not have
Without such a rush
today and the weather being a bit wet, we walked back to the ferry
jetty to catch a boat to Desanzano to the west and on the southern
shore. This was another larger town with a marina again. The
weather just was not inviting today and put a dampener on our walk
around the town. We enjoyed a coffee in a pedestrianised street but
decided not to wait for a later ferry but to return to Sirmione on
passing by, steep sided rocky tree covered hills as the lake tapered
even more. Half an hour later, we arrived at our final port – Riva
del Garda. This town was substantially bigger but only marginally
less pretty as a result. It was the first that we had visited with a
proper marina, full of sizeable yachts. The water was freezing,
being fed from a tributary lake higher up in the mountains to the
west. Having seen as much as we wished, we sat near ...