OK the long awaited Spring Break 2009 Tour de Italia blog entries! I will preface my posts with a few things: first off, sorry this took so long to put up, I’ve been back in Madrid for a week now and just getting to it. Thank you for bearing with me and continuing to check back in. Secondly, the structure of my trip was fabulous, flying into Milan then taking trains to Venice, Florence, and Rome and then flying out of Rome. I enjoyed each city more than the one before and it kept the trip exciting and fun. Lastly, a disclaimer for people who want to go to Italy: if you have even a moderately significant other (or in my case a formerly significant other) and you go to Italy without them you are going to see and experience things that will make you hurt to some degree. It’s just the nature of the beast. It’s a splendid country and wonderful place to be, but a tough place to be alone. This will be the only reference to the sad moments of my trip; in truth there were only a few and a fun story is more enjoyable for me to write about and certainly more enjoyable for you to read. So here we go.
Milano
Brandon and I arrived at Madrid Barajas International Airport with luggage on our backs, a one way ticket to Milan in our hands, and vague idea of being back in Madrid ten days later. That was it. No return ticket, no hostels booked, no copies of Rick Steves’ Italy, nothing. This was spawned from the fact that Brandon refuses to book things or make plans and that philosophy is growing on me. There is charm in being spontaneous and not knowing where you’re going to sleep that night but it has obvious drawbacks. Part of this school of thought is embracing the notion that the Universe will take care of you, and then having it happen. With this being our mantra we found our gate and waiting for the same flight to Milan as us were 8 SLU students with the same itinerary as us: Milan, Venice, Florence, and Rome. All of them were more than agreeable people and they had booked hostels with two other people that backed out, leaving them to pay for the two extra beds. Universe looking out for us: Check.
The flight was painless, actually Lufthansa is very pleasant little airline, and when we got into Milan and took a bus for 30 minutes from the Malpensa airport into Milan proper. The bus had at least 3 male models or at least want-to-be male models, this is Milan after all. Since it was my first trip to Italy I was wide eyed and hungry to take everything in. Once we got into the city you could feel a different rhythm than in Madrid. The pace was different, the city was dirtier, English more prevalent, but mostly there was a different feel. The distinction is difficult to describe but was absolutely palpable. I was in tune to it and curious to learn more.
And learn I did. I learned that our hostel (yes, I will refer to it as “our” hostel even though I played no role in finding or booking the hostel) had overbooked and moved us to a different hostel. A few buses later we arrived at our hostel and discovered that we were essentially out of the city. Milan’s public transportation, and indeed all public transportation in Italy, is grossly inferior to the metro system in Madrid. I knew that Madrid was efficient by comparison to US cities, I didn’t realize the dominance extended over Europe as well. The metro in Milan, along with other problems, looked (and ran) like it was from the 1940s. It fit in better with an Edward Hopper painting than the sterile, streamlined briskness of 2009 Madrid.
Despite metro deficiencies I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Milan is a really cool city for about 2 square miles, maybe even less than that. The downtown area with the Duomo (the third largest Cathedral in Europe), art museums, and the famous high fashion district is really a lovely spectacle. Outside of that area is very okay. We spent the day walking around downtown, visiting museums (including one with Raphael's sketch of the School of Athens and original pages from Leonardo’s sketch book, both of which were absolutely stunning) and gelato stands along the way. Side Note: I had 3 servings of gelato in Milan and a microscopic portion in Florence.
I think some of my friends got gelato with crack in it the first time because they were making an average of 3-4 gelato stops a day, everyday. Insane. It was good, but not that good. I think my spiked gelato theory has some merit. After the latest gelato binge we had a tremendous dinner and Brandon and I split a fabulous bottle of wine. I had warm feelings towards Milan and Italy by the end of the meal and the magnificence of downtown Milan at night cracked the door of my heart to Italy.
The next day my compatriots went to see Leonardo’s Last Supper, I tagged along to see if they had any walk up tickets. They didn’t, I wasn’t surprised and waited in a small piazza while they went into the church to see the painting. While I was waiting I saw a different sort of art. The scene I’m about to describe has lingered with me and I’m still not really sure how to categorize it or what sense I can actually make of it. My friends had just paid their money to go into this church to see the painting; I was sitting on a bench outside of the church when a hearse backed up to the door of the church. Shortly there after the doors opened and a few people walked out and the casket and its pallbearers followed. The casket was loaded into the back of the hearse leaving a melancholy handful of people standing outside the church. While all of this is happening text message notifications were going off on the cell phones of my fellow piazza dwellers, British tourists were asking for directions, and young Italian boys are playing, running, and throwing dirt at each other. This is the one of the boys playing; in the background is the hearse with the casket and in it.
My mind fizzled watching this. Youth, death, tourism, the Last Supper, and text messages. I still have no explanation for what I saw or what it made me feel. I don’t think it was simple as some sort of Lion King “Circle of Life” BS, or maybe Lion King “Circle of Life” BS has a lot more to it than I originally thought. I don’t know. I just have these pictures.
Later that afternoon we climbed to the top of the Duomo and had an incredible view of the Alps. Seeing all those mountains made me miss Colorado. It’s strange but after 5 years, Ohio, St. Louis, Ireland, Spain, and now Italy I can say with certainly that Colorado is home. I’m usually flaky when people ask me where I’m from, giving them the rundown from Marin Country to St. Louis U, but I think from this point on I can just say Colorado and be content with that. That night a few of us ate at a local pizzeria, had a few bottles of wine and rubbed elbows with the employees there. Elliot ordered a second pizza, it came back in the shape of heart. All the employees were male. I think this was more Platonic love, or love or the American tourist’s money, or maybe he just thought Elliot was dreamy. At some point when we were in Milan we were on our way back to the main square we crossed paths with a rally, and I think it was pro-communism, I can’t be sure since I don’t speak Italian and I’m too lazy to look up what the signs said online.
No comments:
Post a Comment