Finally, we come to Veneto, our home region—and honestly, I could write a novel about why it’s so special. It’s not just because Venice is a short train ride away, or because our city Treviso is nicknamed “Little Venice.” It’s not even because the mountains and the sea are within easy reach, or because Verona gave us Romeo and Juliet. (Though let’s be real, if Juliet had a cat like Gigia, she’d have ditched Romeo in a heartbeat.) No, Veneto is a region as diverse in landscape as it is rich in history and art, where romantic canals, rolling vineyards, and historic cities come together like a perfectly crafted aperitivo.
Sure, Venice steals the spotlight (and rightly so, with its gondolas and dreamy canals that make honeymooners swoon), but Veneto is so much more than its floating gem. There’s the Arena di Verona, where opera lovers gather in a Roman amphitheater that’s basically the Beyoncé of ancient venues. (It’s also one of my favorite places, though it’s a shame Gigia isn’t allowed in. Can you imagine her strutting across the stage mid-aria? The diva energy would be off the charts.) Then there’s Valdobbiadene, where the hills produce Prosecco so good it makes Champagne blush. And let’s not forget the Scrovegni Chapel in Padua, with its jaw-dropping frescoes that could make even the most art-illiterate go, “Wow.” Oh, and the medieval villages? They’re like stepping into a fairy tale, minus the dragons (usually).
But let’s be real: while Veneto is known for its art, culture, and culinary delights, it’s also known for something else—Gigia’s spotted fur. That little rascal has left her mark (and probably a few paw prints) all over this diverse region. From the vineyards to the piazzas, Gigia’s adventures have turned Veneto into her personal playground. Who needs canals and Prosecco when you’ve got a spotted mischief-maker stealing the show?
Given the sheer number of places we’ve been to in Veneto, this section will be dealt with on a per-province basis, unlike the others. (Otherwise, we’d be here all day, and Gigia’s nap schedule is non-negotiable.) Veneto isn’t just a region; it’s a backdrop for countless memories, a stage for Gigia’s antics, and a reminder that home is where the heart (and the cat) is.
Belluno (BL)
Belluno (BL)
Known as the "Gateway to the Dolomites," Belluno is famed for its breathtaking mountain views and endless outdoor adventures—cycling, climbing, picnicking, you name it. But for me, Belluno will always be the place where Gigia’s acrobatic career began. It was in a little store here that I picked up a Hula Hoop, not knowing it would turn my spotted sidekick into a feline circus star. Who knew a simple hoop could unleash such grace, agility, and sheer drama? Move over, Dolomites—Gigia’s the real showstopper in Belluno.
While there are many places worthy of visiting, the one that left me and Gigia with the fondest memories is a quaint little village by the name of Stabie, just half an hour from Belluno, nestled in the hills. Frozen in time, it was the perfect playground for Gigia to explore—narrow cobblestone streets, ancient stone houses, and a peaceful charm that made it feel like stepping into a postcard. After a day of sniffing out every nook and cranny, we enjoyed a hearty meal by the side of the village church, soaking in the serene atmosphere. (Gigia, of course, was more interested in the local birds than the view, but she appreciated the ambiance.)
Belluno may be the gateway to the Dolomites, but for us, it’s the gateway to unforgettable memories—of hula hoops, hilltop villages, and a cat who thinks she’s the star of her own adventure movie.
Cortina d’Ampezzo (BL)
Cortina d’Ampezzo (BL)
Cortina d’Ampezzo, the jewel of the Dolomites, sparkles with alpine glamour, designer boutiques, and breathtaking mountain vistas. But Gigia? She remained blissfully unimpressed by human notions of luxury. For her, the true riches were the crisp mountain air filling her whiskers, the endless admiration from staff at the Cooperativa di Cortina, and those sweeping views that even made a nap-prone cat pause to appreciate nature's grandeur.
While Cortina boasts world-class ski slopes and celebrity sightings, Gigia measured its worth in simpler pleasures: the way sunlight dappled the cobblestones perfectly for afternoon naps, how shopkeepers instinctively knew to compliment her spotted coat, and those panoramic backdrops that—let's be honest—only served to highlight her natural elegance. Whether sniffing out geckos in the historic center or "assisting" at the Cooperativa (where she guarded the cash register with the intensity of a feline auditor), Gigia proved that even in Italy's most glamorous alpine town, the real attraction was her.
For those wary of Cortina's lofty prices, Gigia approved of nearby Birreria—where hearty mountain meals cost less than one of her gourmet treats. But no matter where you dined, the best show in town remained watching Gigia hold court, her emerald eyes scanning the peaks as if to say, "Lovely, but have you seen how my fur catches the light?" After all, when you're Gigia, even the Dolomites become just another supporting character in your story.
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Pieve di Cadore (BL)
Pieve di Cadore (BL)
Pieve di Cadore wasn’t on our itinerary, but the search for a lunch spot led us to this charming town—and what a delightful surprise it turned out to be! Nestled in the shadow of the Dolomites, this picturesque spot feels like stepping into a Renaissance painting. Known as the birthplace of the legendary artist Titian, it’s a blend of history, art, and alpine beauty, with cobblestone streets, historic buildings, and a stunning mountain backdrop that makes time seem to slow down.
As always, Gigia lightened up every venue we stumbled upon—bars, restaurants, you name it. Her presence was an instant success, charming locals and turning even the simplest stops into memorable adventures. Pieve di Cadore may have been an unplanned detour, but with Gigia in tow, it became a highlight of our journey.
Arquà Petrarca (PD)
Arquà Petrarca (PD)
Officially named after the poet Francesco Petrarca, this quaint village should really be called the Village of Jujubes—those sweet, crisp fruits that are the true stars of the show. (Move over, Petrarch, there’s a new muse in town.)
For me, jujubes are the stuff of dreams. Fresh ones? I can devour them by the bucketful, their juicy crunch a symphony of sweetness. Dried jujubes may be a treasure trove of health benefits, revered in traditional Chinese medicine and sprinkled into soups, teas, and desserts like edible confetti—but during the annual Jujubes Festival in Arquà Petrarca, it’s all about the fresh ones. Stalls overflow with piles of these ruby-red gems, their glossy skins catching the sunlight like tiny jewels. The air is thick with their honeyed scent, and the streets buzz with the sound of people crunching their way through the festivities.
Gigia, however, had her own approach to the celebrations. As an agile cat, she could have weaved through the crowds, but let’s be real—she’s more of a “queen surveying her kingdom” type. Perched high on human shoulders, she observed the chaos from her lofty throne, her tail flicking with regal indifference. From her vantage point, she watched the jujube-fueled merriments with an air of dignified approval, as if to say, “I’ll allow it.”
So, while the village may honor a poet, for me, it’s the Village of Jujubes—a place where fresh fruit, cobblestone charm, and Gigia’s royal presence come together in perfect harmony. After all, what’s a village without a queen?
Este (PD)
Este (PD)
Este is a town with ancient roots, a delightful blend of history and charm that could make even the most jaded traveler swoon. It’s got everything: a majestic medieval castle that looks like it’s straight out of a fairy tale (or a cat’s daydream of ruling a kingdom), Roman ruins that whisper tales of the past (probably about how even ancient Romans couldn’t resist a good nap in the sun), and vibrant ceramics that are so beautiful you’ll want to take them all home (but don’t—Gigia tried, and let’s just say her paws weren’t designed for delicate pottery).
Oh, and let’s not forget the cherry festivals—where the town comes alive with color, sweetness, and enough cherry-themed treats to make you wonder if you’ve stumbled into a fruit lover’s paradise. (Gigia, however, was more interested in the cherry pits. Don’t ask.)
But the real drama of Este unfolded in a charming little bookstore. Gigia, ever the socialite, spotted a local feline lounging near a stack of books like it owned the place (which, let’s be honest, it probably did). Instantly intrigued, Gigia strutted over with all the confidence of a cat who knows she’s the star of the show. Tail high, whiskers twitching, she delivered her best “hello, darling” look, ready to make a new friend.
The problem? The bookstore cat was having none of it. Instead of a warm welcome, Gigia was met with a low, warning hiss—the kind that could curdle milk and shatter glass. She tilted her head, blinking slowly in what she thought was the universal cat language for “let’s be pals.” But the bookstore cat couldn’t be bothered. It was too busy being the literary critic of Gigia’s social skills. Defeated? Embarrassed? Confused? Gigia flopped down in submission, as if to say, “Fine, you win this round. But I’m still the star of my own book.”
It was a blow to her ego, to say the least. Here she was, a worldly traveler with a penchant for charm, being rejected by a bookstore cat who clearly hadn’t read the chapter on hospitality. Meanwhile, the store owner, Sernella, played the role of feline diplomat, trying to patch things up with soothing words and the occasional treat. I, on the other hand, stood in the background, fully engrossed in the cat show unfolding before me. Forget the books—this was the real drama. I silently rooted for Gigia (while also hoping the hissing wouldn’t escalate into a full-blown cat fight).
On the bright side, Este also gifted us a lovely food shop brimming with local produce. I loaded up on jujubes (because, of course), while Gigia sniffed disdainfully at the cherries, still nursing her wounded pride.
So, while Este may be known for its history and ceramics, for us, it’ll always be remembered as the town where Gigia’s charm failed her—but where the jujubes (and my shopping bags) came out victorious.
Monselice (PD)
Monselice (PD)
A town steeped in history, Monselice is a captivating blend of medieval streets and a majestic castle that seems to guard its timeless charm. It’s famous for its wines, ancient walls, and a general air of “we’ve been here since forever, and we’re fabulous.” But Gigia? She had her own agenda—and it didn’t involve sipping vino or admiring architecture. No, her fascination was with the floating waters near the Pescheria bridge, where she prowled way too close to the river’s edge like a daredevil auditioning for a feline action movie.
The parapet was made of thick, wide stones, so she wasn’t exactly balancing—but that didn’t stop her from strutting along the very edge, her tail flicking with the confidence of a cat who’s never heard the phrase “safety first.” Every step she took had me mentally rehearsing my “cat rescue” plan, which involved a lot of flailing and probably yelling something like, “Gigia, nooo!” Meanwhile, she casually ignored my panic, probably thinking, “Relax, human. I’ve got this. Also, why are you so dramatic?” It was like watching a nature documentary where the narrator whispers, “Will she make it?!” except the star was my cat, and the stakes were my sanity.
Monselice may be celebrated for its history and flavors, but for me, it’ll always be the place where Gigia turned a leisurely stroll into a heart-pounding adventure. Who needs wine tastings when you can have a full-blown adrenaline rush courtesy of a cat with a flair for the dramatic and a complete disregard for personal safety?
Montagnana (PD)
Montagnana (PD)
Celebrated for its prosciutto that rivals even Parma’s, Montagnana is a town that knows how to put on a show. Its crown jewel is the Paglia dei 10 Comuni, a vibrant festival that brings the town to life with medieval reenactments, colorful parades, and bustling markets overflowing with local crafts and delicacies. We were here for this grand spectacle, ready to soak in the history, the flavours, and the sheer joy of it all—under the bright midday sun, no less.
Gigia, however, had her own plans. At first, she watched the festivities with wide, surprised eyes, as if wondering why no one had consulted her on the event planning. But it wasn’t long before she decided to take matters into her own paws. Strutting through the Piazza Maggiore and past the Duomo di Santa Maria Assunta, she moved like she was the guest of honour—tail high, whiskers twitching, and a look that said, “Yes, I belong here.”
The Paglia may have been the star of the show, but with Gigia around, it felt more like her personal red carpet. Under the golden sunlight, she paraded past medieval knights, flag throwers, and market stalls, her regal demeanour earning her more attention than the festival itself. At one point, I swear I saw a vendor offer her a slice of prosciutto, which she accepted with the grace of a queen accepting tribute.
Montagnana may be famous for its ham and history, but for us, it’ll always be the place where Gigia turned a grand daytime festival into her own personal stage. After all, why blend in when you can steal the show?
Padova
Padova
Padova deserves several volumes, but we’re here to talk about Gigia’s experiences—because let’s face it, the city’s real star is a cat with a penchant for croissants and drama. This is a city of art, learning, and enough espresso to fuel a small army (or one very hyperactive tourist). It’s home to the Scrovegni Chapel, where Giotto’s frescoes make even the most distracted tourist stop and stare, and one of the world’s oldest universities, where students have been pulling all-nighters since the 13th century. (Fun fact: The first all-nighter was probably fueled by medieval espresso. Probably.)
Padova is also famous for its aperitivo tradition, because nothing says “higher education” like a spritz at sunset. But Gigia? She’s more of a “croissant at any hour” kind of cat. Given its proximity to home, she’s a regular here, and she’s experienced the city in all its glory. She once graced a 3-Michelin-starred restaurant with her presence, lounging like a feline dignitary at a state banquet. The waitstaff, clearly recognizing royalty, treated her with the reverence she deserved. (I, on the other hand, was just there to bask in her reflected glory.)
But Gigia isn’t just about the high life. Ever the down-to-earth queen, she’s just as happy at Bakery & Bistro Biasetto, casually nibbling on a croissant as if it were the most natural throne accessory. Because whether it’s a Michelin-starred masterpiece or a humble pastry, Gigia knows how to turn every moment into a purr-fectly regal affair.
Of course, not every Padova adventure went according to plan. At the Giardini dell’Arena, Gigia encountered two other cats traveling in backpacks—a modern twist on feline exploration that she found both intriguing and slightly offensive. (“Backpacks? Really? I prefer to travel on a human shoulder, thank you very much.”) Ever the socialite, she approached with her usual charm, ready to make new friends. The problem? The backpack cats were not impressed. They rejected her friendly advances with the kind of aloofness only cats can muster, leaving Gigia to wonder if she’d lost her touch. (Spoiler: She hadn’t. They were just jealous of her impeccable fur and undeniable charisma.)
Padova may be a city of art and learning, but for Gigia, it’s just another stage for her endless charm. Whether she’s lounging in luxury, nibbling on pastries, or navigating the complexities of cat social dynamics, she does it with the grace of a queen who knows the world is her oyster—or, in this case, her croissant.
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Piazzola sul Brenta
Piazzola sul Brenta
The monthly antique market in Piazza Paolo Camerini routinely outshines even the grand Villa Contarini Camerini—until Gigia makes her entrance. With the regal bearing of a Medici princess, she holds court among the stalls, her emerald gaze spotting 18th-century porcelain flaws invisible to dealers and her delicate paws testing textiles with museum-curator precision. Vendors pause their haggling when she arrives, knowing her presence alone doubles interest in their booths.
Between appraisals, Gigia retreats to the villa’s manicured lawns—her personal digestivo course—where she samples the finest grass blades with the discernment of a sommelier. The palace grounds become both her salad bar and throne room, while the market transforms into her stage: mornings spent critiquing gilded mirrors in optimal light, afternoons holding court by the silverware stall where admirers queue for petting privileges.
"They say these treasures have history," she seems to muse, batting at a vintage lace collar. "But my standards? Timeless."
Gigia’s Tip: "The southwest lawn has the sweetest grass—perfect for post-shopping nibbles."
Valsanzibio (PD)
Valsanzibio (PD)
Sometimes the best adventures happen when plans go awry. We were actually looking for another destination that day, but thanks to our tardiness (and a closed gate that clearly didn’t get the memo about our arrival), we ended up retracing our steps to the Garden of Villa Barbarigo in Valsanzibio—a place we’d stumbled upon earlier. And what a happy accident it turned out to be!
The garden, with its meticulously trimmed hedges, serene water features, and whimsical statues, was nothing short of enchanting. It was like stepping into a fairy tale, except instead of a princess, we had Gigia—a cat who clearly believes she’s the main character in every story. She strutted through the garden like she owned the place (which, let’s be honest, she probably does in her mind), pausing to play her favorite game: “Who’s the prettiest statue of all?” Spoiler: she always wins.
But the real showstopper was the black swan gliding gracefully across the pond. I was utterly mesmerized—its sleek feathers, its regal presence, its air of mystery. It was like watching a living piece of art. Gigia, however, was not impressed. She glanced at the swan, yawned, and sauntered off as if to say, “Been there, seen that, and I’m still the most majestic creature here.” Was it jealousy? Or just her way of reminding us that no bird, no matter how stunning, could steal her spotlight? Either way, it was classic Gigia.
Whether she was striking a pose next to a marble nymph (who, let’s face it, paled in comparison to Gigia’s natural elegance) or admiring her reflection in a tranquil pond (because even cats need a little self-appreciation), Gigia turned the garden into her personal stage. At one point, I swear a statue winked at her in admiration.
Valsanzibio may not have been our original destination, but with its beauty and Gigia’s antics, it turned out to be the perfect Plan B. After all, when you’re “The Institution,” even a detour becomes a royal procession. And if anyone questions why we spent the day in a garden instead of wherever we were supposed to go, we’ll just say it was all part of Gigia’s master plan. Because, really, who needs a map when you’ve got a cat with a crown?
Delta del Po (RO)
Delta del Po (RO)
The Po Delta unfolds like a sun-drenched dream, where the landscape shimmers with Caribbean hues—turquoise lagoons, golden sandbars, and waters so clear you can count the fish darting through swaying reeds. The only things missing are the palm trees. Our weekend escape took us to the tiny island of Refugio Il Ghebo, reached by a chugging ferry that cut through the brackish waters like a time machine to simpler days. The island emerged like a secret—driftwood-strewn shores, whispering grasses, and not a single scrap of shade for poor Gigia.
Ever the resilient explorer, our spotted tabby endured the blazing sun far better than her heat-stricken humans. While we wilted after barely an hour on the beach, Gigia made the most of it—rolling gleefully in the sandy grass (undoing her pre-trip bath with one shameless flop), then turning the sparse trees into her personal jungle gym, batting at insects with the focus of a big-game hunter. By the time we retreated to the ferry dock for a much-needed cold beer, Gigia was still going strong, her energy undimmed by the Mediterranean sun. (Of course—with a natural body temperature of 38.5°C, she was basically built for this.)
As the ferry carried us back, the delta’s magic lingered—the salt-kissed breeze, the distant pink smudges of flamingos, and the certainty that, while we may have come for the Caribbean-like beauty, Gigia had claimed it as her own personal safari.
"They say the Caribbean has better beaches. But does it have herons who gossip about fish prices? I think not."
—Gigia’s delta musings
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Asolo (TV)
Asolo (TV)
Asolo, the “Pearl of the Veneto,” is a hilltop gem where cobblestone streets and Renaissance vibes meet views so stunning they could interrupt even a cat’s nap. History whispers from every corner, and every meal feels like a feast—though Gigia insists the real magic lies off the beaten path.
Sure, Villa Cipriani is famous (their milk-free hot chocolate has been on the menu since, well, forever), but let’s skip the tourist traps. Instead, head to Osteria al Bacaro, a cozy spot that’s not technically a wine cellar but feels like one with its charming botte (wine barrels) and food that tastes like it was stolen from your nonna’s kitchen. Or Caffè Centrale, which, let’s be honest, would’ve crowned Gigia their mascot if she’d stayed longer.
But the real highlight? One evening, after a hearty tripe-and-beans dinner, Gigia and I followed the sound of piano music to the Chiesa di San Gottardo, a hidden church that’s a treasure trove of history and charm. Built on Longobard ruins and once part of a bustling 13th-century convent, this church survived centuries of change, preserving its medieval frescoes, a striking bell tower, and a serene sagrato. Unique for its dual dedication to Sant’Angelo and San Gottardo, it hosts an annual festival, and a quirky tradition of blessing oil believed to cure arthritis. The haunting melodies of a modern concert echoing through its ancient walls that evening were an unexpected delight—even for Gigia, who listened with the focus of a meditating monk. (Though she was mildly offended no one asked for her autograph.)
And don’t forget the surrounding area, dotted with osterias and restaurants where Gigia has left her paw-sonal touch. Asolo isn’t just a destination—it’s an experience, especially when you’ve got a feline foodie and music critic by your side. So, whether you’re here for the history, the food, or the hidden gems like San Gottardo, Asolo will leave you purring with delight.
k not."
Castelfranco Veneto (TV)
Castelfranco Veneto (TV)
Almost synonymous with the Renaissance master Giorgione, Castelfranco Veneto is a town where art and history are as rich as its iconic ruby-red radicchio. Encircled by medieval walls so impressive they could make a castle jealous, this charming town is a feast for the eyes and the palate. Sure, Giorgione’s masterpieces are stunning, but let’s be real—Castelfranco’s true claim to fame is its bitter, beautiful radicchio. This isn’t just a salad green; it’s the Beyoncé of vegetables, turning humble dishes into culinary rock stars. Creamy risottos? Check. Hearty soups? Double check. Grilled or roasted as a side dish? Absolutely. It’s the kind of ingredient that makes you wonder how something so bitter can taste so perfect—kind of like that one friend who’s brutally honest but always right.
At the heart of it all is Piazza Giorgione, the town’s bustling main square, where a statue of the famed artist stands proudly as if keeping watch over the radicchio kingdom. Surrounding the piazza, you’ll find historic buildings, lively cafes, and Borse Bistro, a fun and trendy spot perfect for people-watching while sipping a spritz or nibbling on local bites. For a taste of history with a modern twist, don’t miss the bar Borse Bistro converted from the old market exchange—a clever nod to Castelfranco’s Renaissance-era hustle and bustle.
Just a short hop from our hometown, Castelfranco is the ideal spot for a lazy summer afternoon. Grab a drink at Borse Bistro, soak in the historic vibes, and let the town’s art, history, and radicchio work their magic. Whether you’re here for the culture, the cuisine, or just to figure out why bitter tastes so good, Castelfranco is a bite-sized gem that leaves you smiling—and maybe craving a second helping.
Montebelluna (TV)
Montebelluna (TV)
Ah, Montebelluna, the self-proclaimed “Footwear Capital of Italy”! Because, let’s face it, the world can never have enough shoes. But for Gigia, this town holds a far more personal tale: it’s where she “lost her womanhood” (aka her spaying operation at a local vet). Yet, despite this life-altering event, she holds no grudges. Why? Because Montebelluna is home to one of the planet’s best gastro pubs, with a menu so divine even Gigia gave it her paw of approval—though, let’s be real, she was mostly there as an appraiser.
While the town is a paradise for shoe enthusiasts and foodies alike, for Gigia, it’s simply the place where her culinary dreams came true. Who needs stilettos when you’ve got steak tartare? And let’s not forget, Montebelluna is also the gateway to the Dolomites, where almost every mountain road seems to pass through here. Whether you’re stocking up on shoes, savoring gourmet bites, or just breezing through on your way to alpine adventures, Montebelluna has something for everyone—even a cat with a taste for the finer things in life.
So, lace up your walking shoes (or don’t—Gigia certainly doesn’t care), and dive into this quirky town where footwear, food, and feline adventures collide. Just don’t ask Gigia about her vet visit—she’s moved on to bigger things, like perfecting her food critic persona.
Eat & Drinks
Oderzo (TV)
Oderzo (TV)
For ancient Roman ruins, you don’t have to go far—in Oderzo, you can literally dine among them. This charming town, with its Roman roots, is a treasure trove of archaeological sites and a historic center so picturesque it belongs on a postcard. But the pièce de résistance? Gellius Restaurant, a Michelin-starred marvel where you can feast on gourmet dishes while walking on glass floors that reveal ancient Roman ruins below. It’s like time travel, but with truffles.
Gigia, ever the queen of sophistication, took her dining experience to the next level. She lounged in her open backpack, perched regally on a chair at the table like a feline food critic. Between courses, she couldn’t resist investigating the ruins below, peering through the glass with the intensity of an archaeologist on a mission. For once, even tuna couldn’t impress her—history had stolen the show. Oderzo may be a haven for history buffs, but for Gigia, it’s the place where Roman ruins met her insatiable curiosity. And let’s be honest, the ruins probably felt honored to have such a discerning guest.
But Oderzo isn’t all Michelin stars and ancient stones. For a more down-to-earth vibe, head to San Gabriel Birreria, where the atmosphere is relaxed, the beer flows freely, and the food is hearty and unpretentious. This spot is famous for having the best stinco (roasted pork shank) in the area—a dish so tender and flavorful it could make a food critic out of anyone. It’s the perfect counterbalance to Gellius’ gourmet elegance—a reminder that sometimes, the best experiences come with a side of simplicity.
Whether you’re dining among ruins, savoring the best stinco in the zone, or simply wandering the cobblestone streets, Oderzo is a town where history, luxury, and everyday charm come together. And if you spot Gigia peering through a glass floor, don’t disturb her—she’s busy rewriting history, one paw at a time.
Eat & Drinks
Valdobbiadene (TV)
Valdobbiadene (TV)
Yes, we frequent Prosecco country alarmingly often. No, Gigia does not have a drinking problem. While the region's sparkling bounty flows like the Piave River (and we happily partake in the prosecco a fondo straight from small growers' cellars), Her Majesty maintains a strict tuna-water-only policy. What truly lures us back are those absurdly perfect emerald vineyards - cascading down precipitous slopes like nature's own amphitheatre - and air so crisp it practically sparkles with each breath.
The town thrives on wine festivals brimming with clinking glasses and laughter, but Gigia's agenda remains strictly land based. She patrols the legendary Cartizze hills like a furry feudal lord, surveying UNESCO-protected panoramas and inspecting every cobblestone in Santo Stefano with the scrutiny of a conqueror. Quaint osterias and sun-dappled terraces dot the province - places where humans linger for views of vine-striped hills, while cats commandeer the coziest sunbeams between tastings. (Spoiler: Everyone leaves satisfied, though for decidedly different reasons.)
Valeggio sul Mincio (VR)
Valeggio sul Mincio (VR)
We were searching for Borghetto sul Mincio's storybook watermills when fate—and Gigia's unerring radar for spectacle—diverted us to its "mother town," Valeggio sul Mincio. There, amidst the weekly antique fair's clatter of silver and porcelain, our spotted sovereign staged an impromptu coronation.
Vendors forgot their haggling to watch Gigia inspect 19th-century cameos with a collector's eye, then pause—as all royalty must—before a gilded mirror. Her approving blink said it all: Valeggio's true treasures weren't in the stalls, but trotting between them on four white paws. Even the famed tortellini (those silky, secret-stuffed pasta jewels) played second fiddle that day.
But the adventure wasn't complete without Borghetto, Valeggio's fairytale sibling. As the Ponte Visconteo's medieval arches framed the Mincio River below, Gigia transformed the bridge's narrow wooden rails into her personal high-wire act. Tail aloft like a banner, she paraded past gasping tourists as if to say:
"Watermills? Charming. Pasta? Plebeian. But this view? Finally, a backdrop worthy of me."
Eat & Drinks
Verona (VR)
Verona (VR)
Verona—the city of timeless romance—had no idea what hit it when Gigia arrived, turning Shakespearean drama into a feline fantasia. While lovestruck pilgrims elbowed for space at Juliet’s balcony, Gigia commandeered the Arena di Verona as her personal stage, striking poses between the ancient arches with the gravitas of a cat who knows her best angle requires golden-hour lighting. Her devoted Dream Gigia Team (comprising her long-suffering human assistant and a bemused Italian writer) scrambled to immortalize every whisker-twitch, though Gigia herself remained characteristically unimpressed—after all, 2,000-year-old Roman amphitheatres are merely adequate backdrops for a star of her magnitude.
The pinnacle of her Veronese reign came at Coin Excelsior, where the store’s entire digital display surrendered to a looping slideshow of Gigia’s greatest hits: lounging in Piazza Bra like a furry Medici, casting judgmental glances at tourists’ footwear, and contemplating the Adige River with the existential depth of a poet. Here, her literary masterpiece Gigia & Me—penned by her human scribe but undoubtedly dictated by Her Majesty—was unveiled to an adoring public. The presenter, an Italian writer of great renown attempted scholarly remarks about "interspecies connection," but the crowd only had eyes for Gigia, who held court from a velvet cushion throne, occasionally deigning to sniff a proffered hand like a Renaissance pope bestowing blessings.
By the time she departed, Verona’s cultural legacy had been irrevocably altered. The Arena’s opera singers now perform with renewed vigor, secretly hoping for a feline review. Juliet’s statue has developed a suspicious emerald-green patina. And somewhere in Coin Excelsior’s archives, security footage preserves the moment a small, imperious cat deemed their lighting "acceptable"—the highest honor in retail history.
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Asiago Plateau (VI)
Asiago Plateau (VI)
The Altopiano dei Sette Comuni (the Asiago Plateau) is nature's masterpiece—a highland realm where the Venetian Prealps pierce the sky, wildflowers dance across emerald meadows, and rifugi beckon with the promise of steaming canederli and fireside warmth. Winter wraps it in silent snow; summer sets its trails alight with colour. We came convinced this alpine dreamscape would be the perfect cover for the English version of our book Gigia & Me!
The plateau delivered every photographer's fantasy: golden-hour glow, misty mountain backdrops, even curious cows as "extras." But when we reviewed the shots, one truth became clear—no sweeping vista could compete with that headshot.
There it was: Gigia's perfect portrait, tail a proud exclamation mark, emerald eyes gleaming with quiet mischief against some humbler backdrop. The mountains? Majestic. The lighting? Divine. But Gigia's essence—her regal charm, her I woke up like this brilliance—needed no competition.
"Sorry, Asiago. Your peaks are glorious, but my best angle is always... my angle."
—Gigia (probably), flipping her tail at the rejected landscapes
Bassano del Grappa (VI)
Asiago Plateau (VI)
The Altopiano dei Sette Comuni (the Asiago Plateau) is nature's masterpiece—a highland realm where the Venetian Prealps pierce the sky, wildflowers dance across emerald meadows, and rifugi beckon with the promise of steaming canederli and fireside warmth. Winter wraps it in silent snow; summer sets its trails alight with colour. We came convinced this alpine dreamscape would be the perfect cover for the English version of our book Gigia & Me!
The plateau delivered every photographer's fantasy: golden-hour glow, misty mountain backdrops, even curious cows as "extras." But when we reviewed the shots, one truth became clear—no sweeping vista could compete with that headshot.
There it was: Gigia's perfect portrait, tail a proud exclamation mark, emerald eyes gleaming with quiet mischief against some humbler backdrop. The mountains? Majestic. The lighting? Divine. But Gigia's essence—her regal charm, her I woke up like this brilliance—needed no competition.
"Sorry, Asiago. Your peaks are glorious, but my best angle is always... my angle."
—Gigia (probably), flipping her tail at the rejected landscapes