I could make a fortune...

A somewhat blurry photo of the gelato available in Verona's Blue

...writing a guidebook to Verona's gelato parlors. I have more pictures of ice cream than historical monuments or artwork. Combined. Verona is full of ice cream. There are ice cream vending machines in the halls. As well as print cartridge vending machines and ones that sell at least thirteen different kinds of coffee. Last night I stayed up late getting philosophical with some of my tripmates, and this morning I bought a macchiato (espresso with foamed milk) and a cappuccino d'orzo (barley coffee with steamed and foamed milk). The d'orzo tasted like barley, not as strong as the coffee bean espresso. Yesterday I had a caffe shakerato, an iced coffee with sugar and milk. Each drink tastes different, so it's fun to experiment. Besides, coffee and wine are cheaper than water.

Shopping around town yesterday I realized what I like about fashion in Verona. 40-year-old women in short, bright red sundresses walk the streets in sky-high cork heels. 20-year-olds layer ripped tees over leggings. Browsing through the beautiful, the strange, and the bizarre in Verona's clothing stores I realize that you can get away with just about anything. Blouses cut to the navel? Fine. Wedge heels laced up to the knee? Maybe not common, but no problem. Floor-length embroidered skirts during daytime? No one would blink. American fashion is generic and bland by comparison. I get the feeling (and this may just be me) that Italian women are better at understanding this about clothes: messing up (so to speak) can be much more fun than doing what you know is safe.

This weekend we're going to Venice. The slowly-sinking city built in a lagoon. What strange marvels people accomplish! And without the aid of modern science, too.