31 March 2006

you too can parla italiano



Walking around with new friends it was interesting to see what they noticed about the city. About it's substance. One is an engineer, the other is in construction, and they saw Milan in a way I never would. They noticed materials and structures and the million little reasons why the buildings we walk past every day are still standing.

They stopped to look at the rock with which buildings were constructed. Were the blocks cut or had they been poured? Was each chunk exactly the same or slightly different? Yes, I would notice that the building was made with special stones. I would think it was unique and pretty and point at it for others to see. But I would never stop to think about scientifically what it all meant. That each piece worked with the others based on calculations and formulas and facts. And that someone had to take on the responsibility of promising that this building would work.

I'm more likely to see the hints of old red on a giant door across from a favorite Sunday cafe. And then go inside for a macchiato.



These are the stairs that swirl up our building. They make a turn just tight enough to make you dizzy. And being marble they're just slippery enough to make you nervous. So instead of taking the stairs, a travesty I know, I tend to take the elevator. It's a quaint little cabin with a mirrored wall - perfect for one last check after lunch. And you're not likely to be dizzy when you step off.

Italian has not been what I would call an easy language to learn. True, it is beautifully full of sound and passion but it also involves a painful amount of little accordances one must get just right. But today is the day we can all speak Italian. Just start with an open mind and let your intuition guide you. Remember that large chunks of our languages are very similar and that often guessing is as effective as learning. So with that encouragement I unleash you on the Brokeback Mountain poster in Italian. Can we all guess what the title is in Italian?



I thought so. Bravo!

26 March 2006

white night

Notte Bianca is a night when Milan stays open and the city floods with people and cultural events. There are vendors selling Italian street food and teens drinking beer with a swagger. Concerts & dance fests & giant bouncy things for kids to jump on come out of the woodwork and fill the public spaces. It really is amazing to see the city so alive so late into the night.



We initially made our way to the Piazza Duomo to catch a little of the MTV TRL awards. The teens were out in force and for the first time since turning into an adult (when was that?) I realized how hard it is to be a teenager. You must rove in packs -- therefore you must find a pack with which to rove. You must develop an unhealthy obsession with pop stars, stalk them, and then shriek whenever they are within a cubic kilometer. In Italy, teens must also smoke. So there were a lot of youthful folks, wandering in groups and stopping to scream whenever a particularly famous or appealing Euro pop star appeared on stage. And by the way, to put it gently, Italy is not known for it's popular music and if it is, it's not a compliment.

The MTV awards were most enjoyable for the sheer number of people they brought into the Piazza. It was full! And there were people from every age group swinging through. Keep in mind that this piazza is gigantic -- the awards host kept saying there were 80,000 people there. I would believe it. I would also believe that at least 70,000 of them were smoking.



We also went to a performance in another Piazza at 10pm. It was billed as ballet although I would offer a bit more modern description. It was really colorful and involved young people in layered costume, wisps of fire, handheld rocks and Stravinsky. The performance as a whole started with the dancers approaching from the 5 thin streets that all combined into the Piazza -- pounding rocks together in unison. The sound bounced off the walls and surrounded us. The dancers filtered through the crowd to make their way onto the "stage" -- an area of the piazza we had all stood around, with candles and other accoutrements marking the space. It was touted as featuring 80 dancers and they were all young people who were very into what they were doing.

Seeing the performance in the middle of a vast public space, surrounded on all sides by buildings featuring stately institutions (banks, etc.) was incredible. The way Notte Bianca uses the public spaces of Milan is very powerful and to me indicates a very strong value in the arts, people, and culture. And to have all of these piazzas and parks and streets come alive on one night is a tribute to the city and its vast cultural wealth.

And with all of the talk of culture & public appreciation of the arts & a night devoted to performance you might be thinking that Italy is culturally untouchable. That these people are not only the captains of design, fashion, food, and art but that their people appreciate and embrace these things in a way that sets them apart from the rest of the world. With that I introduce to your attention this piece of advertising displayed on a bus shelter in central Milan. Yes, that's the Fonz. And yes, it is 2006 in this country as well. So any time you catch yourself thinking that the Italians have got it going on -- remember this piece of cultural interest. Italy may be the home of Da Vinci, but I'll be damned if they don't still love the Fonz.



We ended our night in the park. Found ourselves a bench at around 1am and people-watched. People watching in Milan is a true embarrassment of riches. There is fashion, there are canines, and there is a lot of affection between couples. I dare say I have never seen so much public affection let alone flat-out making out. Not to say that the humans are more interesting than the dogs -- often the interactions between small dogs who don't get out of their apartments much is deeply entertaining as well. In the end it's all about the simple things.

And sometimes it's just about the Fonz.

window shopping

We spent a good part of our Saturday morning poking around the world famous shopping streets of Milano. Everyone who's anyone in fashion really does have an address in Milan. Chanel, Gucci, Armani, Ferragamo, Krizia... the streets are lined with them. We were merely looking in windows but there are people of the world who are here to truly shop. For the most part they are already dressed in several thousand dollar outfits and at the very least have a miniature dog trotting at their heels.



Please note the above fashion disaster. If nothing else it serves as a reminder that everyone, and I mean everyone, is invited to poke around the shops. And should you be feeling particularly un-fashionable that day there will always be someone who looks far worse, and she may even have a daughter that she has taught to do the very same.

Additionally, guys in Italy love the color orange. Mostly because it goes with their tans.



I was thinking of popping into Dolce & Gabbana for a hayride gown. Nothing says "I've wasted a sackful of euro" and "I've never sat on the ground before" like a Dolce & Gabbana evening gown on straw. Are we laughing? Are we crying? Or are we just trying our best to understand the way the rich think?



Viktor & Rolf, a very fashionable & hip team, has the best designed shop here. If you'll notice, it is upside down. The chandelier hangs upward, the door handle is strikingly high. And when you look inside the furniture is sitting on the ceiling. We may not be able to afford their clothing but we must love their ideas.



And being Italy, there is always food not far away. This pastry shop & cafe was doing a very brisk business. The dove-shaped torta with the wild strawberries on top is only one of many Easter-themed food goods that is starring in shop windows of late. Easter is apparently a big holiday here if the sheer number of pastries devoted to it are any indication. Doves seem to be a central theme and also immense chocolate eggs worthy of display. I imagine these eggs weigh several pounds each being well over the size of an American football on average. No reports yet on whether the Easter Bunny comes to town.



And finally, a nod to the American tourists. This 480 euro Balsamic vinegar was in the window aging gracefully. Another American couple was taking a photo of it and in noticing that the signage is in English I think this shop knows exactly what it's doing. Maybe the Americans who take a ha-ha photo of our expensive vinegar will find our 35 euro porcini mushrooms a bargain and buy some for the plane ride home. We didn't fall for it and went home for a pizza.

19 March 2006

Cities with secrets

After visiting the Certosa (see previous posting) we took the train back to Pavia proper and explored the city. We got there just as the mass exodus for lunchtime closing began. It was very clear that by walking into the town center we were proceeding in the absolutely incorrect direction. We were swimming upstream -- a true cascade of Italians rolling over those foolish enough to believe that there was any reason at all to go into the city at this time of day.



We found lunch, and were happy to sit down and relax. When we came out of the bar we were starring in our very own western. The streets were deserted. The shops had closed. There could have been tumbleweed rolling down the strada. It was, however, the perfect time to explore the medieval towers and buildings that are never really open or closed. You just find them, stand in front of them, and like the busloads of various tourists we're becoming used to in Milan, stand in front of them for a commemorative photo.



The town itself was twisted and cobble-stoned. There were no great drawls of grey space but rather colorful walls, rounded stones, and intricate balconies. Despite the crisp cold... (Stefano even went so far as to wear his mismatched gloves. Long story but between the two of us we managed to leave the store with two right hand gloves rather than the usual one for each hand. They're a highly fashionable pair too, aside from the fact that he's had to jam a right handed glove onto his left.)... despite the crisp cold Pavia had a warmth we appreciated.

With the deserted streets to ourselves we were prowling around, listening for church organs and keeping an eye out for the random Italian tooling by on a bicycle. You must remain on watch because they are often truly multi-tasking and therefore cannot steer appropriately -- there is rarely an Italian female on a bicycle who is neither smoking nor chatting on her cell phone. And usually she is doing both. It's very impressive but at the same time a touch frightening. I suppose I should simply take pleasure from the fact she is not on her Vespa instead.



As we explored we passed the man above, cleaning in front of a random building. You may notice the small door within the larger door. The glimpse of green beyond the streets caught our collective eye and I stopped to take this photo. The man noticed and beckoned us with invitational gestures to go through the little door and quickly see what was inside. And we did.



It was beautiful, old and stately. And it truly explains what it so charming and delicious about Italy. It's the secrets hidden behind giant walls with tiny doors. It's the trees that climb from isolated courtyards and the art that is everywhere you would never expect it to be.



Behind the tiny door in the giant door were columns and gardens and old bicycles and staircases into the dusty afternoon light. The man followed us and made sure we gazed towards the ceiling and saw the devil with the angels that was painted as high as the sky. That we saw the hand-worked iron that blanketed down from the railings. That we noticed these wonderful things that were hidden from everyone but those we were lucky enough to live inside the beauty.



But this is Italy and it was an invitation from a stranger that reminded me of what travelers are truly trying to find.

uno, due, tre ... lift



We went to Pavia yesterday -- pronounce with the accent on the second syllable. It took only a few mispronunciations in front of a real Italian to be quickly corrected.

There was a twenty-five minute train ride to get to Pavia. As we disembarked at the station other passengers were boarding; one of these passengers being a little Italian grandmother. From a distance we could see she was trying her darnedest to get a foot up onto the train entry step. The step was well higher than her knee height and she had resorted to lifting up her leg with her hands and trying to place it on the step. When she got it up there she couldn't get up the momentum necessary to rocket herself into the train. Enter Stefano who hustled up to the lady and asked if he could help. He grabbed her sides and lifted her up into the train. She thanked him and pronounced him "molto gentile" -- very kind -- with which I heartily agree. Seeing your husband lift an old lady into a train car would make any wife proud.



We then took a nearly immediate 10 minute ride on a local train to get to the Certosa of Pavia. There was some walking involved and it was along the road. Sometimes with a shoulder and sometimes without but either way I don't like feeling Smartcars and BMWs alike testing their maximum speed only a foot or two away. Eventually we found ourselves at the entrance to the world famous monastery commissioned in 1396 by the Visconti family. It was intended as the family mausoleum and is, but it is also the home for Carthusian monks who have taken a vow of silence. Thankfully there is a guided tour by one of the monks who has been allowed to speak and even though it was in Italian we understood a fair amount. We also understood that the people on the tour with us were, ahem, rude. There was one joyful creature who not only clonked her high heel boots around like a Clydesdale but also answered her cell phone within the church. Should I mention that she let the ringtone sing for a good twenty seconds before she even answered it? The monk was not amused.



This monastery is large, intricate and gorgeous. It is also freezing cold and breezy. One of the more interesting elements is the houses in which the monks lived. Built around a large and calm central cloister you can see them in the distance of this photo. Each home is for a single individual and allowed him to pray and eat without outside contact. His food was delivered via a secret spinning door system that permitted his meals to be delivered without the recipient or the messenger ever seeing the other. These gentlemen were, and are, very serious about their life's calling.



In the midst of great structural beauty and solemnity there was also a cleaning technique by which we were captivated. Apparently there is an herb that smells truly magnificent, is bright green, and cleanses terra cotta without unnecessary strain and damage. I'm not clear on what this herb is and there seemed to be confusion even among the native speakers. I heard the word bergemot bounced around... Regardless, it smells incredible and leaves behind little dustings of neon green within cracks and corners of the tiles. Had I not seen a man actually cleaning in this manner I would have thought there a vibrant moss colony thriving alongside the monks.



It was beautiful and solemn place and well worth the highway walking -- especially since the monks seem to have a taste for secret doors and stairways. We were also very lucky in our timing -- just as we were exiting the church the giant wooden doors were quietly shut behind us, and as we exited the grounds we discovered by the waiting crowds who were unable to enter that even Monks embrace the two-hour-plus lunchtime closing that all of Italy seems to practice. When it Italy...

16 March 2006

a pause from eating

For those of you who must think that all we do is eat Italian food and wander the streets of Milan admiring the overwhelming fabulousness of it all... we also go to museums.

This past weekend we visited the Milan Triennale, a museum seated at the far end of the Parco Sempione. It's a very large space and memorably unimpressive from the outside. But inside is what it's all about.



We saw two exhibits. The first one, "Looking for," was free and featured the display of a private collection of objects designed in Italy over the years. The objects ran the gamut. Displayed were radios and chairs, plug adapters and type writers. Every kind of common object. They would not have been nearly as captivating had they been displayed separated and single. However, en masse the room itself and the objects displayed along its walls became its own large-scale object d'art.

You might get a sense of it from the photo but it doesn't really capture the cell-like repetition of the objects displayed, and the sleek system of shelves and ladders. There was minimal signage (difficult to really learn anything) but that kept the design pure and of itself. Nothing to distract but, it's true, also nothing to instruct/educate the viewer.

In sum, Italian design is gorgeous but I know nothing about it.



The second exhibit was entitled "Beautiful Losers" (8 euro each) and is probably the only art exhibit in Italy in which we, as Americans, could feel superior in our grasp of the pieces before us. It was basically a collection of the grungy and bizarre; street level art that Americans created on the fringe but eventually came to be embraced by mainstream culture. Graffiti and skateboards, indie music and grainy photos. Before MTV could rock the look, these people came up with it.

There was an intriguing display of hard-form teddy bears that had been decorated by various artists. Each of the bears was about the height of a three year old and displayed standing on a thin platform hanging from the ceiling. The room was darkened and there hung an army of these bears. People wandered in between the rows looking more closely at the details, noticing who had created which bear. Again, the joy of the exhibit was in the replication, the multiplication of the idea; the absolute squadron of bears that hung before the viewer.



The skateboard display was impressive and raw. I could appreciate most of the imagery and I could certainly see how it was/is ground-breaking, but I am also not a teenage boy. And skateboarding, by and large, seems to be dominated by individuals whose tastes might be a bit different than my own. That being said, silk screening a bunch of wild imagery on the bottom of a skate board is pretty cool and seeing them all hanging in a museum is also refreshing.

There was most certainly some eating done after the exhibits but I will leave that for another posting. If I look at the photos I might not be able to wait until dinner.

14 March 2006

eating away the weekend



One of the best ways to spend a weekend is eating. I can personally attest to this having spent the last weekend doing just so.

Case in point, example 1: Where else can you eat something unashamedly named "brutti ma buoni" -- "ugly but good." With a strong hazelnut flavor and a caramel crisp texture these cookies were light and sweet. The only problem is that they were also very crumbly. We both ended up with little bits sprinkled down the fronts of our coats and thus had to shake off the "ugly" before continuing our day.



Case in point, example 2: Gelato is the Starbucks of Italy. Everyone walks around with one. Women who are shopping like fiends always have a hand free for gelato. Business men are not too macho to nurse a cone during the lunch hour. And tourists seem to collect them in numbers rivaled only by postcards and naughty pastas.

There's a reason for this. Or more than one. In fact there is every reason. Gelato is amazing. Gelato is inexpensive. Gelato is everywhere. And it comes in more flavors than you would imagine. Pictured are pistacchio, chocolate, cherries & cream, and plain cream.

To be perfectly honest, we'd had gelato the day before as well.

And maybe the day before that.

Have I mentioned there's tiramisu flavor?



Case in point, example 3: Apertivo in full swing. At our favorite bar, drinking our favorite wine, at our favorite price. This plate of delicious samplings, along with a glass of wine worthy of someone far more educated in wines than myself, was had for the delicate price of 5 euro. The bar is gorgeous, the patrons are Italian and the saffron risotto arrives at your table just because you're there. Ching, ching!

10 March 2006

the language of appliances



I am happy to report that we are functioning at a high level with regards to our new appliances. Without fail their buttons and guidebooks are all in Italian, which is hardly surprising. And, in fact, we're happy to have found the guidebooks at all because at first we were operating on sheer luck and creativity -- and a bit of google-ing.



Take a glance at the above set of buttons, knobs and dials. The illustrations themselves are quite amusing. Now imagine that your clothes will be clean only after you are able to discern exactly how this machine functions. The perfect challenge, eh?

In 2006 the way you respond to such a challenge is to utilize a little service by the name of google. We google-d appliances and managed to find a users guide that explained a similar machine and thus were able to presume that this alien appliance might function in a similar fashion. And then with detergent we had chosen based on fragrance alone -- because our detergent vocabulary is not very strong -- we were able to wash our clothes. Success!

But the far greater success was the lighting of the pilot light for the gas water heater. No google. No idea. Only a technical guide in technical Italian. Oh, and a machine that uses natural gas and a flame to produce large amounts of boiling water. No pressure there.

But we did it. And have had hot showers ever since.

After less than a week in a new country, we have managed to clean our clothes and light the pilot light -- in Italian! That's got to count for something.

09 March 2006

here's to the ladies...



Today, March 8, is a bit of a holiday in Italy. Called "le feste delle donne" it is a day on which women are celebrated for the simple fact that they are women. Traditionally, they are given heaping piles of mimosas from their loved ones, co-workers, friends, etc.

It is not the same event as Mother's Day (which Italy has) or Secretary's Day (which I've been told Italy does not have). If you are a woman you are entitled to celebrate that fact. It is that simple.



The sidewalk florist shops were doing a brisk business and the sidewalks themselves were dotted with both men and women carrying their requisite bouquets. It was a nice touch of color to a city that's a bit gray this time of year. I should, however, clarify that Milan is far from ugly and there is a distinct beauty in it's cento per cento (100%) urbanity.



And there are some surprises for us newcomers as well. Earlier this week there was a very clear view of the alps from Milan's higher floors. It was magnificent to see the snowy peaks arcing around us in the distance. They felt very close and familiar, as if they were gates to the city that the earth had raised simply to protect us.

If I hadn't seen them with my own eyes, I would never have believed they were so close. In a big city like this, with people rushing everywhere, traffic charging ever forward, and absolute & utter modernity in every direction, one hardly thinks of mountains. Yet, they are there. And we are quite tiny in comparison.

06 March 2006

milano = milan = home



We are most certainly in Milan.

It is not Chicago, it is not Rome. It is its own fast and furious creature with a heart of style.



On both of our parts there is lingering shock that we've been placed in this city to live. That we are allowed to call it home. That we are residents here. We will become regulars in bars and trattorie. We will buy our fruits and vegetables from one store. And we will know the family who sells them to us. We will buy salami from another store, another family. And we will have a bakery that we love for it's focaccia and another that we visit for its pastries. We will have our cheese shop, our wine shop, our meat shop and our bar. And by bar I mean a place where you pony up to the bar and order a coffee.



Coffee here is not the coffee most people will think of. It is actually something that is strikingly different and stunningly complex and delicious. It is thicker, stronger, and depending on the brand and barista has a flavor that shifts with each sip. It comes in a very small cup and is barely more than a shot and a half. You can add sugar but you will not add creamer. You've already ordered your café with the milk (latte) within if that's how you prefer it. It's an incredible system. I order a Macchiato which is an espresso with a small amount of foamy milk on the top. To this I add sugar and then swirl it in which breaks down the foam a little. You could drink the entire cup with one prolonged swig but I like to slow the flow and have about 10 healthy sips. The thick strength of the café gives it a caramel nature, the milk a creamy touch and then the sugar... it's like putting a bow on a present, not necessary but a fine idea nevertheless.



Il cibo (the food) is loveable. Adorable. Stunning. Even when it's cheap, it's fabulous -- and fresh. We've had pizza, pasta, salads, dessert... and apertivo. Apertivo is very Milano -- you go to your favorite restaurant/café and have a drink. For example a layered and smooth red wine. And as you sip your vino you peruse the apertivo table. It is covered with specialties of the house: salads, pastas, meat dishes, breads, salami, vegetables... and well beyond. You pick up a plate and then you delicately cover it with as much of the apertivo as feels appropriate. One wants to maintain a bella figura (a good image) and not pile on too much. You then take your plate over to your drink and enjoy the two insieme (together). As we were enjoying our apertivo the waiter brought over a plate of a regional specialty for each of us. It was a saffron risotto and was part of the whole system. And what did this system cost? 5 euro. Beautiful!

Milano, here we come!

03 March 2006

the raspberry blessing

St. Peter's Basilica at the Vatican is stunningly large and imposing. It could fit a hundred small chapels inside yet has enough nooks and coves to make a person feel comfortable in its vastness. Through the columns, with the moon above, it looks delicate and gentle. But is it not and at any other angle it seems as if it would swallow the moon whole.



I must highlight a disturbing trend in tourist reportage. The cell phone has quickly become the number one device for preserving vacation memories. The use of a real camera ranks a disturbing second. For example, the man below is viewing Michelangelo's Pieta. By his balding head and grey hair we can discern that he is of a generation that should be more than passingly familiar with the film camera. But... But... he has decided it is a far better plan to use his cellphone in a church to photograph a masterpiece. This does not bode well for the future.



Below are the disturbing and distorted feet of St. Peter. Over the years visitors to the Basilica have rubbed the toes into surreal lumps. For luck? For blessings? Maybe just to see what metal rubbed by millions of grubby hands feels like.



Stefano received his own very special blessing in the piazza. We had walked past an old man who was blowing raspberries randomly as people passed. He was quite skilled, making the sound without using his hands and maintaining a completely serious and non-commital face. As we headed out of the piazza this man chose to stealthily approach Stefano from behind and give him a sharp clap on the shoulder. At the same perfect moment he blew one of his signature raspberries and was on his way.



Tonight we dined with friends and this is my ravioli. Ricotta and spinach with sage and butter. It was absolutely amazing and if all of our meals taste this good there are going to be some serious waistline problems in the future. Although you will note that the portion is a delicate one, and with food this savory it's quite enough. (But I wouldn't have refused a few more should they have found their way onto my plate.)

02 March 2006

andiamo a roma

After a flight filled with people speaking a language that is no longer foreign to us we've arrived in our new country of residence. Upon checking in at our beautiful hotel there was a prompt nap during which we received no fewer than two phone calls (hi mom!) and an "oops" bellman entry. After the nap we both felt -and still feel- a combination of enebriated and uncoordinated and so took a walk to the Spanish steps for air and exercise.



The streets were crowded with shoppers, tourists, smokers, fashionistas and more smokers. We enjoyed the people watching and managed to find our way back to the hotel. But not before running into a renegade group of Italians in safari wear who were shooting a short digital film on the sidewalk. And there were other groups wearing the same ensemble and seemingly participating in a similar project. I am convinced that only the Italians can walk the cosmopolitan streets of Rome wearing khaki safari gear and rocking the look. We had gym shoes on and felt not half as cool as them. Nice.



Our hotel is gorgeous by the way. It's across the street from the embassy and features gorgeous furniture, a roaring fireplace, and staff who indulge our desires to speak Italian. Perfect! The stairway is featured above - spiraling upwards - and is the central feature of the building.



There are also some very small cars here. The tiny smidge of a vehicle pictured barely reaches Steve's chest -- tiny, tiny, tiny. And somewhat space age as well.

Tonight we've been promised an introduction to nutella pizza... who are we to say no to that? Ciao!