Sunday 25 September 2011

Milan with a Plan

48 hours doesn’t give you time to absorb the essence of many places, but that was the challenge laid down for us on this weekend’s adventure. Never mind that Perri is teetering on the precipice of total emotional breakdown with the imagined spectre of repeating grade nine looming over her at every moment (“c’mon, you’ll only be missing one day. What’s the worst that can happen?”). With that same ‘can do’ attitude our settler forefathers displayed, we boarded a discount airline flight to Milan. The plan was simple: see a bunch of old stuff, buy some expensive, but hopefully not too expensive clothes, see a soccer game, eat too much good Italian food, and get home safely.

At the end of the weekend, I can say, with confidence, we met expectations.

After finding our bed and breakfast, which included only two stops to ask for directions, which for us is a record, we set forth upon the multi-faceted public transit system armed with our newly minted 48-hour passes. Milan has an extensive underground metro, a comprehensive bus system, as well as a trolley and tram system. Please, no questions about the difference between a trolley and a tram. Let’s just say there were all kinds of public conveyances available, and move on. At our first stop, as we emerged from the underground, ours eyes were assailed by the image of our first significant ‘old thing to be seen’: the duomo, Milan’s grand cathedral.


It might have been better planning had we gone somewhere else first, as the Duomo is quite spectacular and everything after that felt less so. It was built over a couple of hundred years and finished during Napoleon’s reign (I think he was crowned ‘king of Italy’ there). I’ve seen a few big old churches in my day but the Duomo manages to be imposing and delicate at the same time. We took advantage of the hike to the roof where the attention to detail is overwhelming. Why somebody decided to put all that detail 100 meters from the ground I’ll never know. Maybe you get to have a close look on the way to heaven. I have pictures for those of you destined for other eternities:












I got a shot of some dumb tourists taking their own picture. They must have been Americans (no insult intended to those of my readers from the land of undefinable national debt).






Ooops. Wrong tourists.

We spent the rest of the day exploring the sites and shops around the Duomo. We saw the Castello Sforzesco, which was interesting but quite un-photogenic. I’m afraid the trip to Carcassonne has set a minimum standard for castles and Castello Sforzesco doesn’t make the cut.  
It also happened to be fashion week in Milan, punctuated by giant posters and billboards, as well as the occasional freakishly tall and skinny 20 year-old girl. The main shopping street had a three-block-long red carpet and Perri couldn’t resist:




We closed the day with a tremendous meal, which, by itself, would have made the trip worthwhile.

Up early the next morning (at least by Milan standards), we wandered through the streets leaving no shoe store or boutique unexamined. By accident, we found ourselves standing in front of La Scala, one of the greatest opera houses in the history of such things. Not much to look at on the outside, we ventured into the opera house museum, which occasionally allows visitors to stick their noses into the opera house itself. It was not to be that day, as the company was rehearsing. The upside is that we were allowed to watch some of the rehearsal, and it was … fantastic. If they had offered tickets to that night’s performance on the way out, I’m sure I would have paid whatever they asked (tickets start at 200 euro for the cheap seats, when they are available, which they weren’t). I was busy that night anyway.


Near the opera house, and the Duomo, is the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele, a funky shopping mall containing very exclusive designer stores … and a McDonald’s. One of the other curiosities within the galleria, is a tile mosaic whose centerpiece is a bull, whose naughty bits have been replaced by a shallow hole in the tiles. The local traditional suggests placing your heal in the hole and giving yourself a quick spin will bring you good luck. When in Rome, or Milan…




A couple of more meals, one technology museum with too much information, and what seemed like 100 stores later, we were on our way to Milan’s second great church: San Siro, the soccer stadium for both of Milan’s professional teams. I’ve been told that Catholicism is the ugly step-sister to soccer in Milan, religiously speaking: she never gets dates on game-day. And, with two professional teams, I imagine there are a few poorly attended masses over the course of a season. At the risk of wearing out sports clichés, there was a buzz in the air as we emerged from the metro. The fans were there in force and we merely had to keep our feet moving with the crowd to get to the stadium. Outside the stadium were probably 100 different food and paraphernalia vendors, and the joint was jumping! I had already looked into the match for the evening and was pleased and disappointed, in equal measures, that the opposition was a fairly useless team who was not considered a significant rival. This meant a good chance of a victory, and a small chance of a full-scale riot (but not a zero chance).


Once we got our tickets, we approached the stadium, which holds over 60,000 fans when required, and I can say it is an impressive structure. 


What was more impressive was the security: tickets were reviewed with photo id twice, metal detector, bag search, electronic ticket-entry gate system, and one more ticket review for each section. Ann wasn’t sure whether or not to be pleased with security exceeding that of an international airport. I expected a fairly full house, as acquiring tickets was a fairly arduous process.  Once we’d settled into our filthy seats (I quickly understood why many of the fans brought seat cushions sporting the team colors), I realized it wasn’t going to be a full house.


Once the game actually started, I would estimate the stadium was perhaps half full. However, the team booster section, was full, and, oddly enough, fenced-off. They were so loud I was pretty sure I would have permanent hearing damage. I also noticed a significant lack of ushers and security personnel in the same section and once the road flares started going off (how did they get those through security?)


I realized being in an almost empty section wasn’t so bad. The home side won 1-0 and I missed the only goal because I was watching the shenanigans going on in the crazy fan section. The giant video-tron seemed determined to only show us the time of day, not even the game time, rather than the score, or any replays we might be interested in. I imagine the lack of replays helps the life expectancy of the referees and linesmen.

The next day we were up at 8 and back in Bordeaux by 2 p.m.. Perri got her homework done and, Bob's your uncle, we’re all ready to face the week.

A few random thoughts on Milan: They like their baked pastries filled with custard or cream – so do I. I didn’t see a single insect the whole time we were there until the lights went out in our B&B, at which time the local mosquito breeding facility came to life (of course the windows were open – it was 26C). I believe the nearest green space was 6 blocks away, so I am interested to know from whence they came. There aren’t nearly as many kids in Italy as France. Ann tells me they are having a population implosion because it costs too much to get your own place and raise kids. One result is an even higher number of momma’s boys than before. Hard to believe. 


To close I’d like to cast aside all doubt as to the inadequacy of seeing a place with as rich a history and culture as Milan in the brief time we were there. We didn’t even get a chance to see Da Vinci’s ‘The Last Supper’ (you had to book ahead) although we saw a rendition at the technology museum (not the same, I know). I would estimate at least another 6 or 7 hours would have been necessary to see the whole thing.

No immediate plans except for Tuesday, when Perri’s teachers embrace their right to strike for the day. Thankfully, I have a tee time booked already. The October school break requires us to find something to do for a week and Sardinia, or Corsica, is on the radar. I favor Corsica because I’ve never really liked sardines. Ann also mentioned one of the Stans but I'm not in favour because I don't know one from the other and I think half of them are not particularly safe right now and I'd hate to get it wrong (Khurdistan? Khazakstan? Derkaderkastan?).

2 comments:

  1. You failed to address one of the most important questions, did Ann get a new handbag?

    Also, you need to try sardines again...they can be absolutely delicious. I fear that you have a severe hate on for these tiny fish, considering you have mentioned them in a negative tone in two posts already.

    Cristina

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  2. Wow, the duomo is spectacular. And, it was both comforting and disheartening when we were in Italy to see a McDonalds in a strange place...like across from the Pantheon in Rome...looks like a great weekend. Hear there are nicer beaches in Sardinia, if that helps.

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