While wandering around Vicenza I came across this notice outside a construction site.
Vicenza is home to a US air base, just outside the city. In February 1998, a military plane flown by US pilots flew far too low and sliced the cable supporting the gondolas of an aerial tramway of a ski field. The plane suffered damage but returned to its base, which was Aviano, not Vicenza. The gondola was far less fortunate. All 20 occupants, 19 tourists and 1 operator, all Europeans, were killed in the 80 metre plunge.
The pilots were not tried in Italy but in the US and were acquitted of involuntary manslaughter and negligent homicide. In a second court-martial they were found guilty of obstruction of justice by destroying a videotape recording from the plane and dismissed from service. The fact that the NATO treaty had precedence over Italian laws and the acquittal verdict stirred much anger in Italy and Europe in general and strained the NATO alliance.
So it was not surprising that the presence of a US air base in Vicenza still got some locals hot under the collar.
I had considered visiting Venezia again in the day, but after last night's adventure, I decided to pass that up. It's magnificent and everybody should visit it at least once, but it really is a theme park, because it exists purely for arts and tourism. The glory days of La Serenissima were back in history. It's said that many locals have to live outside and commute to work. Instead I decided to visit Vicenza, the city of Palladio.
At the station I found that the trains to Vicenza were actually buses leaving from outside the station. This wasn't apparent in the timetables. And as luck would have it, I got the milk run, which took minor roads and stopped everywhere. Still, I was in no hurry and I got a good tour of the countryside.
At Vicenza, a short walk took me to the gates opening up on Corso Palladio. Even I, with no eye for architecture, could discern that Palladio's buildings are indeed well-proportioned, but unfortunately it was impossible to step far back enough to take undistorted pictures of any but a few, such as the Duomo.
It was an attractive city, but it felt forlorn and not as lively as Padova. That it was Saturday and that the weather was warm might have had something to do with it. Perhaps some people had chosen to shop, and the rest were relaxing at home.
I had a nice asparagus pizza for lunch, washed down with a glass of chardonnay. Now I'm bound to feel drowsy afterwards, I thought, never mind, I can nap in the train. Desert was irresistible cherries.
I ate them in this garden just behind the market.
The train back to Padova was delayed. Why was I not surprised? Back in the hostel, I showered and used up my phone card calling home since I would be leaving Italy the next day.
I went to Brek for the third time, because of the fresh food, the air-conditioning (it was a warm day) and the absence of a cover charge, which many establishments tack on. Then I digested dinner sitting in the piazza. An Italian kid noticed me eating cherries and asked his mother where I had got them.
When it was cooler, I walked to the end of the main street which opened up onto a park. I saw in passing that some wit had altered a street sign from Via Rogati to Via Drogati (I don't know what the Rogati were but Drogati means drug addicts). It really wasn't as dangerous as suggested, but I'm sure that like any city, Padova had some.
From the vans packing up and the detriti on the ground it looked like there had been a market with clothing stalls. In Italy I noticed many clothing shops and stalls run by Chinese. Do Italians really buy that much apparel? Imagine China conquering the world through clothing and variety stores.
There was a fountain and townsfolk out for their passeggiate.
I walked back to the piazza, found myself a gelato desert, and enjoyed the night air until it was late, then called it a night.
