Things to Do in Verona How to Spend 2 Perfect Days
So here’s the embarrassing truth – I booked Verona because my flight got canceled.
Not exactly the romantic story you’d expect, right? I was supposed to fly from Rome straight to Munich last October. Three-hour layover, plenty of time to grab currywurst and pretend I knew what I was doing with my Eurail pass. Instead, Lufthansa decided my Tuesday didn’t matter, stuck me on a Thursday flight, and left me with two unexpected days to kill in Italy.
My options were limited. Venice was booked solid (apparently October is peak tourist season – who knew?). Florence felt too rushed for 48 hours. Then I remembered this random Instagram post from my college roommate Sarah, standing on some balcony in Verona with a caption about “living her best Juliet life.”
I literally rolled my eyes so hard they practically fell out of my head.
But cheap hotels were available, the train from Rome was only three hours, and honestly? I figured I could knock out the touristy Shakespeare stuff in half a day, then spend the rest of my time eating pasta and feeling sorry for myself about the flight situation.
Plot twist: Verona had other plans for me.
I’m writing this from my kitchen in Portland, six months later, and I still get this weird homesick feeling when I think about those narrow streets and that incredible light hitting the old buildings at sunset. Not homesick for Oregon – homesick for a place I accidentally fell in love with during the most unplanned 48 hours of my entire European trip.
The Accidental Tourist’s Guide to Not Being Terrible
Let me save you from my initial stupidity. Before I left Rome, I did exactly zero research. Figured Verona was small, how hard could it be?
Turns out, pretty hard if you show up wearing the wrong shoes, speaking zero Italian, and assuming everything revolves around one fictional balcony.
My first morning there, I wandered around for an hour looking for “the Romeo and Juliet stuff” like some kind of literary GPS was gonna guide me. Finally asked this older Italian woman sweeping her front steps, and she just pointed down the street and said, “Turisti,” with this look that made me feel like the worst kind of American stereotype.
But here’s what nobody warns you about – getting lost in Verona is actually the best thing that can happen to you.
Wednesday Morning: When Reality Hits Different
I stumbled into this massive amphitheater completely by accident. Just turned a corner, and boom – there it was, like someone had dropped a piece of ancient Rome right into the middle of this medieval city.
The Verona Arena, I learned later, but at first I just stood there with my mouth hanging open like a complete tourist (which, fair, I was). This thing is enormous. And old. Like, built-when-Jesus-was-alive old.
The ticket booth guy spoke decent English and seemed genuinely excited to explain stuff to me. Turns out this arena is actually in better shape than the Colosseum in Rome. Still hosts opera performances every summer. Seats 30,000 people. Has been hosting events for nearly 2,000 years straight.
Walking around inside, I kept trying to imagine what it must’ve been like during gladiator fights. The acoustics are incredible – you can whisper on one side and hear it clearly from across the arena. Made me wonder what kind of sounds this place has absorbed over the centuries.
Only weird part was all the Japanese tour groups taking identical photos in the exact same spots. There’s apparently some specific Instagram angle that everyone knows about except me. I just took pictures of whatever looked cool, which probably makes me either authentic or clueless. Maybe both.
Coffee Culture Shock
Right outside the arena, there’s this huge square called Piazza Bra. Sounds like lingerie, looks like a movie set. I needed caffeine desperately, so I picked a café at random and tried to order a large coffee to-go.
The barista looked at me like I’d just asked him to punch his grandmother.
Turns out, Italians don’t do coffee the way we do. You order an espresso, you drink it standing at the bar in about three sips, you pay your euro-fifty, and you move on with your life. The whole transaction takes maybe four minutes, but somehow feels more civilized than anything we do with coffee in America.
I ended up having five different coffees that morning, mostly because I kept getting confused about the system. But also because Italian coffee is ridiculously good, and when you’re accidentally stranded in a beautiful city, excessive caffeine consumption feels like the appropriate response.
The Balcony Situation (Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Embrace the Cheese)
Okay, let’s get this over with. Yes, I went to Juliet’s House. Yes, I took pictures. Yes, I felt ridiculous the entire time.
But also? It was kind of wonderful in this completely unexpected way.
The courtyard was packed with people from everywhere – heard at least six different languages in the five minutes I was there. Everyone taking the same photos, everyone touching the same bronze statue, everyone participating in this weird collective fantasy about fictional characters.
What got me wasn’t the balcony itself (which is pretty, but obviously added way later for tourists). It was watching this middle-aged couple from what sounded like Eastern Europe, carefully writing out a love note on notebook paper and finding the perfect spot to stick it among thousands of others. They were so serious about it, so focused on getting their words just right.
Made me realize that maybe the authenticity doesn’t come from the place being “real” in some historical sense. Maybe it comes from people bringing their real emotions to it and creating something meaningful, even if Shakespeare made the whole thing up.
Plus, the house itself is actually pretty cool once you get past the crowds. They’ve got period costumes, old furniture, and this whole exhibit about the history of the Romeo and Juliet story. The six-euro entrance fee felt worth it just to escape the crowd in the courtyard.
The Square That Changed Everything
After the balcony circus, I needed somewhere quiet to decompress. Found this beautiful square called Piazza delle Erbe that felt like stepping into a different century.
It’s been a marketplace since Roman times, and somehow still feels alive in this incredible way. There were vendors selling produce, locals doing their shopping, tourists wandering around taking pictures, all mixed together in this perfect Italian chaos.
I grabbed a table at some restaurant (later learned it was called Osteria del Bugiardo) and ordered the first thing on the menu that looked familiar. Risotto. Safe choice, right?
Wrong. This wasn’t any risotto I’d ever had. It was made with Amarone wine, which I’d never heard of, and it was this rich, complex, absolutely perfect combination of flavors that made me understand why people get obsessed with Italian food.
The waiter, this guy named Stefano, noticed me basically having a religious experience over my lunch. He brought over a glass of the actual Amarone wine and said, “You cannot understand the food without the wine, and you cannot understand the wine without the territory.”
That glass of wine cost more than my entire lunch, but it was worth every euro. Deep, complex, nothing like any red wine I’d ever tasted. Stefano explained that they dry the grapes for months before making the wine, which concentrates all the flavors. It’s a process that’s been perfected over centuries right here in the hills around Verona.
Suddenly I wasn’t just eating lunch – I was getting an education in local culture that no guidebook could’ve given me.
Wednesday Evening: The View That Ruined Me for Other Sunsets
Stefano told me I had to see the sunset from Castel San Pietro. “Take the funicular,” he said, “unless you want to climb for twenty minutes.”
I chose to climb. Big mistake. Huge.
Those cobblestone paths are steep, and I was definitely feeling my morning coffee excess and lunchtime wine by the time I made it to the top. But then I turned around, and the entire city of Verona was spread out below me in perfect golden light.
I’m not usually the type to get emotional about views, but this one hit me hard. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the unexpected nature of the whole trip, but sitting up there watching the sun set over a city that’s been here for 2,000 years made me feel connected to something much bigger than my canceled flight drama.
There were maybe a dozen other people up there, all of us just quietly absorbing this incredible scene. The red tile roofs stretching to the mountains, the river curving around the old city, the medieval towers catching the last light. It looked like someone had painted the perfect postcard, except I was actually there.
Aperitivo Education
Coming down from the castle, I was hungry again but not ready for dinner. Perfect timing to learn about aperitivo, apparently.
Found this place called Caffè Dante in another beautiful square (Verona has a lot of beautiful squares, turns out). Ordered an Aperol Spritz because that’s what Americans do in Italy, right?
The bartender was polite but suggested I try something more local. “Aperol is from Padova,” he explained. “We have better things here in Verona.”
He made me this drink with local Prosecco and some herbal liqueur I’d never heard of, plus brought out a plate of olives, cheese, little sandwiches, and other snacks. Apparently when you buy one drink during aperitivo time, they feed you enough to almost count as dinner.
This is Italian social life – you don’t just drink, you eat, you talk, you watch people, you make an entire evening out of one glass of wine. I ended up sitting there for three hours, talking to other travelers, watching locals meet up after work, just absorbing the rhythm of daily life in this incredible city.
Thursday: The Day Everything Clicked
My second (and last) day started with a twenty-minute walk to some church I’d randomly circled on a map I grabbed from my hotel. Basilica di San Zeno Maggiore. Had no idea what to expect.
This church blew my mind completely apart.
First, those bronze doors. They’re from the 11th and 12th centuries, covered in these incredible relief sculptures that tell biblical stories. You could spend an hour just studying these doors – the detail is insane, and they’ve been there for almost a thousand years.
Inside, there’s this painting by Andrea Mantegna that made me understand why people travel specifically to see art. I’m not an art person, never have been, but I stood in front of this altarpiece for probably thirty minutes just trying to figure out how someone created something that beautiful and realistic in the 1400s.
The whole experience cost three euros and I had the place almost entirely to myself. This is the kind of discovery that makes accidental travel the best travel.
Roman Ruins, Round Two
The Roman Theatre is built right into a hillside, and it’s completely different from the arena. Smaller, more intimate, carved directly into the rock. You can see how they worked with the natural landscape instead of just building on top of it.
The attached archaeological museum is tiny but fascinating. They’ve got everyday objects from when this was a thriving Roman city – combs, jewelry, cooking pots, stuff that makes you realize these were real people living real lives 2,000 years ago.
I spent maybe forty-five minutes there total, but it completely changed how I thought about Verona’s history. This wasn’t just a pretty medieval city – it was a major Roman settlement with layers and layers of human stories.
Lunch Revelation
For my last meal, I wanted something completely local. Found this place called Trattoria al Pompiere tucked away on a side street, no English menu, just a handwritten chalkboard in Italian.
I pointed randomly at something and ended up with pastissada de caval, which the owner said was “molto tradizionale Verona.” It was incredible – rich, tender, perfectly seasoned meat in a sauce that tasted like it had been perfected over generations.
Only after I’d cleaned my plate did I find out I’d just eaten horse.
Look, I know how that sounds. But it was honestly one of the best meals of my entire trip. The restaurant was full of Italian families, everyone clearly enjoying their food, and the flavors were unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Sometimes travel means trying things that would never occur to you at home.
Shopping Italian Style
Via Mazzini is Verona’s main shopping street, and it’s pedestrian-only, which makes wandering a pleasure. I’m not much of a shopper, but I loved people-watching and seeing how Italians dress and carry themselves. There’s a confidence and style that feels effortless but clearly isn’t.
I did stop at this little wine shop called Enoteca dell’Istituto, where the owner gave me a fifteen-minute masterclass on local wines. Walked out with a bottle of Amarone that cost forty euros – more than I’d ever spent on wine in my life, but after yesterday’s tasting, I knew it was worth it.
The Secret Garden Discovery
My last afternoon, I was wandering aimlessly when I noticed a small entrance with a garden sign. Giardino Giusti. Ten euros to get in, and I figured why not?
This place was like finding Narnia. A 16th-century Renaissance garden with perfectly sculpted hedges, classical statues, terraced levels that reveal different views as you climb. At the top, there’s this incredible panorama over the entire city and the mountains beyond.
I spent two hours there, reading my book, writing in my journal, just existing in this peaceful, beautiful space. There were maybe eight other people in the entire garden. It felt like discovering a secret that most tourists never find.
The Things Nobody Tells You
Verona is tiny. You can walk across the entire historic center in fifteen minutes. This is actually perfect – you never feel rushed, and you can easily revisit places that caught your attention.
The food around all the major tourist sites is terrible. Walk five minutes in any direction and you’ll find incredible local places at half the price.
Comfortable shoes aren’t optional. Those cobblestones are gorgeous but brutal on your feet. I watched so many people struggling in completely inappropriate footwear.
Learning even basic Italian phrases makes a huge difference. Locals really appreciate the effort, even if your pronunciation is terrible (mine definitely was).
Don’t over-plan. My best discoveries happened when I was just wandering without any agenda.
What Verona Actually Taught Me
Here’s what I learned during my accidental 48 hours: Sometimes the best travel experiences happen when you’re not trying to have them.
I went to Verona with zero expectations and a slightly bitter attitude about my flight situation. Instead, I found this incredible city that isn’t trying to be anything other than what it is. It’s not competing with Rome or Florence or Venice. It’s just authentically, unapologetically itself.
Sure, there are tourist crowds at the obvious spots. But there are also hidden gardens, incredible wine bars that feel like neighborhood secrets, locals who are genuinely proud of their city, and moments of beauty that have nothing to do with Shakespeare or Instagram or any external expectations.
My canceled flight turned out to be the best travel accident I’ve ever had. Sometimes you need to get knocked off your planned path to discover something really special.
I’m already planning my return trip, probably for next October. This time I’m staying longer, learning more Italian, and definitely bringing better shoes.
Have you ever had a travel accident that turned into something amazing? Or are you thinking about visiting Verona yourself? I’d love to hear your stories – drop a comment and let me know what unexpected places have surprised you!
