Donna arrived in Trento last night. Walking around the town she commented she could understand how I had raved about it all these years, and how one would want to keep coming back to such a place.
Here is a picture of the Piazza Duomo, the heart of the old city, with its tower and the fabulous fountain of Neptune.
Right next to the rail station is a statue of Dante. The city of Trento shielded him once when he was in flight from his enemies. Of course, Dante, whose Divine Inferno caused his Tuscan dialect to be the father of modern Italian, is sort of like George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, though culturally rather than politically: every Italian town, at least in the northern half, wants to claim he slept there on one occasion or another....

