The Italian “Umm”

Allora…

I hear it all the time, and I did 2 years ago when I was here… so much so that I asked about it. It’s the Italian “umm”, the bridge between thoughts. The pause. The word that says, “give me a minute”. It’s the drawn out “wellllll…”

Every language has these words so laden with function, if not meaning. It’s just funny to hear them so clearly.

(I suppose that if you don’t speak any Italian this post means nothing to you. But if you do, you might be chuckling to yourself in acknowledgement right about now.)

“Fatto a Mano”: Wingtips

“Fatto a Mano”: Wingtips

“Made by Hand”.

I so love the traditional handcrafts at home in each country and culture. Over time there are those things that have developed that are either functional, decorative or both, and are crafted of fabric, paper, leather, metal, stone, wood, plant matter…

They begin with the hand and the mind of their maker, and usually reveal both. It’s a particular pleasure for me when the touch of the maker shows in the stitch, the edge, the union. Those details allow me to reach back to that person, however long ago, and sense the working of the hands.

The “classics” often spring from these traditional handcrafts and are elevated through their ties to those handcrafts. They have an extra layer of specialness and are much more than whim. They harken to history.

Italy: Among other things, leather goods. I’m not a “handbag person” so, although I’ve remarked to myself on the design, beauty and craftsmanship I’ve seen from the street market bag vendors, I haven’t been tempted. But I wanted to bring home some tidbit of Italian leather work as a nod to my time here…

Handmade wingtip shoes. I’ve had my eye on these for months as I’ve walked by the 8 foot wide storefront whenever I’ve done my shopping. Yesterday I actually tried them on. And they fit. And they came home with me with their satin ribbon ties!

I both marvel and am amused. Black-and-white pattern (which in Italy they say in reverse order as bianco-e-nero, white-and-black) is a perennial draw for me. The shoes are simple and classic. Timeless. And made by hand in the town of Vigevano, to the west of Milan. I’ve added a little train trip to my list of places to see before I leave. How I’d love to talk to the people making these shoes!

Rice Green and Sky Blue

Rice Green and Sky Blue

Late afternoon. High 80s. Hot, humid and sunny. Perhaps not the best time to get out on my bike, but quarter-til-five on a hot day is better than quarter-til-one. In the late day sun, the rice growing along the east side of the bike path was brilliant green topped by a deep sky that hints of a coming thunderstorm. That green stops me every time.

Mako & Ma Qing Sheng

Mako & Ma Qing Sheng

Two Chinese and one American strolling together along the Naviglio Grande speaking Italian, their only common language. Now if that doesn’t make you smile, I don’t know what will.

I had gone back to the Mercatone Antiquariato – The Big Antique Market – (the last one before my departure) in search of the few, last treasures. Three things called my name and came home with me and they will be some of the many things that bring Italy to mind when I’m back in the Pacific Northwest. I bought an old book, a wooden hat form, and a medallion… and then I was hungry.

The Naviglio Grande is lined with trattorie, osterie, cafés, gelaterie and pizza joints selling by the slice. I know better than to be indecisive when I’m hungry, so I stepped right into the Vintage Café (decorated with Marilyn Monroe), because I saw their lunch buffet arrayed like the typical evening aperitivo. My hosts, Piero and Élena, seated me and brought me a crisp glass of cold, white wine. I loaded up my plate and began to calm my rumbling belly.

Two men walked in and took the table right next to me. As I’ve found here in general, space is tight and so are tables. People sitting NEXT to you might as well be eating WITH you. We started chatting and comparing our purchases. Mako and Ma Qing Sheng are son and father, here for two months from China. They had purchased and showed me a set of an elaborate, engraved serving spatula and fork, with matching appetizer forks. I showed them the old book and hat form I bought. Piero, our host, joined the conversation and pretty soon we were all one big, happy family in conversation.

Ma Qing Sheng liked the hat form and I told him I’d take him to the seller so he could buy one. We paid our bills for lunch. Piero gave me a European kiss goodbye and we started walking and talking. I was amused by the absurd unlikelihood of the situation: being in Italy and carrying on in Italian with two Chinese men. (The little bit of Chinese I know was buried too deep in the recesses for any access or assistance as we chatted.)

Ma Qing Sheng picked out one of the very sculptural forms, and the father and son playfully modeled some of the vintage hats on display (probably to the chagrin of the seller, but she had just sold another hat form, so wasn’t putting up a fuss). Mako and his father and I exchanged contact information and we may get together for dinner sometime in the next month.

These unlikely moments will make me smile and sparkle for years to come…

Earl & Matthew

Earl & Matthew

How do you give a 13-year-old a whirlwind overview of Milano and other spots in Italy?

I had grown up picking rocks off of Earl’s parents’ waterfront on Three Tree Point, just down from the house I have in Seattle now. (In other words, he’s known me since I was born.) So when Earl decided to take his grandson, Matthew, on a tour of Italy, and knowing that I’m here in Milano, he got in touch with me and we started planning the whirlwind. By the time the trip was only a week away, Earl wrote to say they were “counting the hours”.

The two travelers arrived at Milano Malpensa Airport, jet-lagged but excited. We caught the train into the city, with one minute to spare.

Like Hannah and Zibby two days before, Earl and Matthew’s first stop, with mere 21-pound packs still on their backs, was the Spezia Milano Pasticceria. They needed a little something to take to their hotel room and picked out a dozen sweet treats. (The best in town.)

The guys needed a break after their long travels, and a little freshening up. We met up a couple of hours later when they came over to my apartment just 2 blocks away to “skype” family back home. Then we walked up the canal, Naviglio Pavese, to a pizza restaurant with a wood-fired oven. I don’t know what was so funny, but Matthew enjoyed his 5 cheese pizza. Much of it was packed home though, and ended up in my frigo (and made a high-fat breakfast for me the next day).

Earl and I shared an antipasta plate of mixed cheeses and meats, then a pizza of prosciutto, mushrooms and artichoke hearts.

Still recovering from the trip, “The Boys” called it a night early without the evening stroll along the canal (to the gelato shop), and headed back to their hotel for a good, long night’s sleep.

In the morning, having missed the breakfast part of the “bed & breakfast”, they came to my apartment for made-to-order, prosciutto/grana/peperoni/cipolla omelettes with bread, jam, blood orange juice and strong coffee. Once they had been fueled for the day, we headed for the subway.

It was a day to scout for Leonardo around town; he had lived in Milano for 20 years as a young man and left his mark across the city. Our first stop was the Castello Sforzesco, an impressive moat-encircled castle in the center of town. From there we moved on to The Museum of Science and Technology and its Leonardo da Vinci exhibit.

We saw some incredible models representing the ideas in Leonardo’s Codex Atlanticus!

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We had 3:30 tickets for The Last Supper and needed to check in a half hour beforehand. Their tours are very precise in their beginnings and endings so that they can best control the atmosphere within the chamber that hosts the fragile mural. To actually SEE the original painting, the inspiration for so many reproductions and college lectures, is an experience to add to a lifetime.

Earl and Matthew were both spent after our sightseeing. We each wolfed down a panino of prosciutto, brie and “red mayonnaise” then headed back to the subway. I was heading north to buy our train tickets for the next day, and they were going to test their navigational skills and get themselves back to their hotel. (Matthew had great fun later trying to convince me that they had gotten lost and had been wandering around for hours.)

We regrouped later for evening skype sessions with the folks back home. (At 6:00 pm here, it’s 9:00 am on the U.S. West Coast.)

The big question was “where shall we go for dinner?” With so many options, I wavered in my recommendation, but kept thinking about octopus and potatoes at the Carlotta Café south along the canal. I wasn’t sure how adventurous Matthew would be, but we went anyway, and took a cab since neither the subway nor our feet would get us there easily.

Dinner was DIVINE. If you ever want a good meal in Milano, head to the Carlotta Café! Matthew ordered gnocchi with speck, (like a lightly smoked prosciutto) and rucola (arugula) in a fabulous, creamy sauce.

Apparently, Matthew really liked the sauce! (Matthew! I can’t believe you did that!)

Earl and I ordered the evening special, a 7-course, fish-based meal that kept the food coming all night. At our first urging, Matthew took a little taste of the fresh-caught anchovies and he was hooked from then on. He quickly swooped in on a half dozen of the slim, silvery filets, then scooped up a portion of the much-anticipated octopus and potatoes. I was pleased by his willingness to sample the seafood variety.

Our 29 Euro-per-person meal included:
– “Paper Music” bread, hot, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with salt
Piovra tiepida con patate e olive (Octopus with potatoes, olives and olive oil)
Alici marinate (Fresh anchovies on a bed of rucola)
Carpaccio di spada (thin slices of raw swordfish)
Ostriche (Raw oysters)
Paccheri all’isolana (pasta, tomato, tuna, basil)
Spaghetti con bottarga (spaghetti with grated, dried tuna roe)
Branzino vernaccia (Roasted branzino fish with olives)
Mirto (an after-dinner liqueur from myrtle leaves and berries)
Pardule (a star-shaped, pastry desert from Sardegna)

We ordered a nice, chilled bottle of Vermentino di Sardegna vino bianco to go with our seafood.

By the end of the evening we were having quite the time chatting with Erik, our wonderful waiter. When other restaurant patrons ordered a roasted, suckling pig, Erik brought it by to show us. And when it was time to leave, we met the chef/owners and the others in the kitchen, complimenting them on our fantastic meal.

Carlotta Café
Alzaia Naviglio Pavese, 274
20142 Milano
Tel: 02-89546028

The next day we hopped the train northeast, to the town of Varenna, along the eastern shore of Lago di Como (Lake Como). Earl and Matthew were scheduled to meet with a travel group at 5:00 that evening to continue their whirlwind tour. Since I hadn’t seen Varenna before, I accompanied them on the train trip and to their steep hillside room-with-a-view. From their balcony, they looked almost due west to Bellagio (hidden by the 3 tall cypress trees), and north to the town of Varenna.

We had a little wander around the town and a lunch by the lake shore.

After lunch, we walked just around the bend for a treat of pistacchio, coconut and vanilla gelati, which we ate while leaning on the railing looking out over the water. We said our goodbyes, gave each other hugs, and then went our separate ways for our own exploration.

We had two very full, delicious and beautiful days! What an introduction for Matthew – nicknamed “Mateo” – to the sights and food of Italy. I’ll be curious to know what his highlights are.

It’s Tomato Season

It’s Tomato Season

It’s hot. It’s sunny. And this weather is exactly what tomatoes love. They are deep red, full of flavor and SWEET! Some I buy directly from the farm down the road. Some come from Sicilia. It is tomato heaven and there’s no reason to eat anything else except as an accompaniment to the tomatoes: fresh basil, fresh mozzarella, olive oil, oregano, bresaola, bruschetta, etc. Ahh! You should be here!

Hannah & Zibby

Hannah & Zibby

The excitement of a college-time trek through Europe! Hannah & Zibby started together on June 8, in Newcastle Under Lyme. They went on to Amsterdam and Berlin, took a wrong train into Switzerland, and arrived in Milano yesterday. They’ll go on to Venezia, Firenze, Roma, then Athens and Santorini. A time to discover themselves and the world.

There’s always the charge of newness when arriving at a train station in a new, as-yet-unvisited city.

Following their afternoon arrival, we took off on both subway and foot for a whirlwind tour of the city. We wasted no time and stopped at the Spezia Milano Pasticceria, suitcases still in hand, to buy a tray full of the best pastries in the city.

Trying a “BaBA” was a must for these girls and their yen for sweets. These little sponge-cake gems are SATURATED with rum, and filled with a sweet ricotta cheese with chocolate bits. The first bite sends a stream of rum down the arm and leaves a puddle of the alcoholic syrup in the little decorative paper cup. Tip the cup to sip every drop.

The girls freshened up after their overnight train trip, then we headed for the subway and back to the center of town: the Duomo. We studied the gargoyles, doors, and gory statues all over the church’s exterior. In addition to the pious saints and cherubs, there are pensive philosophers, ominous monsters, and poor unfortunates in all states of torture, beheading and disembowelment. We remarked on the many different artistic styles.

Of course we walked through the grandeur of the Galleria, a must-see for any visitor.

When out in front of the Palazzo Reale – the Royal Palace-turned-art-museum – we had a lesson in paving patterns, learning that, though attractive, the round, embedded pebbles were actually not very comfortable to walk on. That’s the reason for the inlay of broad flat stones.

Throughout Italy there are water fountains in the major cities that provide potable water from natural, underground sources (or so I’ve been told). Locals and tourists alike refill water bottles, or take sips on a hot day. One man knew the trick of blocking the water flow coming out the bottom of the spigot, which then diverted the flow out through a small upper hole, creating a drinking fountain arc of fresh water. Hannah just had to test the waters.

The tired travelers were getting hungry, so we descended into the subway maze, caught the red line, then transferred to the green line. We got off at Porta Genova to stroll through the Navigli – canal – district, the hip, energetic, trendy, scenic zone of antique fairs, flower markets and exhibiting painters. We had come for aperitivi, Milano’s traditional all-you-can-eat buffet for the price of one drink, usually 7-9 euro. We picked the restaurant on a floating green barge docked at the junction of the Naviglio Grande and the Naviglio Pavese. In addition to the usual carbs of pasta and pizza squares, they offer roasted peppers, eggplant and zucchini, balls of fresh mozzarella, and an amazing bruschetta of Italy’s summer-ripe tomatoes. A very nice Montepulciano and a strawberry mojito are what we selected for making our toast to being in Milano together.

The collective sweet tooth reigned and our meal would not have been complete without a further stroll along the canal and a stop to buy gelato. Hannah and Zibby learned a lesson about design and merchandising. This particular gelateria has very nice signage and interior display… and a line of people out the door waiting to get in. A gelateria 3 doors down is NOT visually impressive and the place was empty.

I was proud of Hannah for ordering her gelato IN ITALIAN! “Vorrei stracciatella.” “I would like stracciatella” (A vanilla gelato with little bits of chocolate chip throughout).

By 11 o’clock on a lovely, warm evening, we were walking along the smaller of the two canals amidst umbrellas, street musicians and candle light. We took a detour for a late night showing of some of Milano’s best graffiti, then headed home for a skype session with folks back home.

Hannah and Zibby were gracious, curious and great company during their personal tour of my Milanese haunts. They enjoyed seeing and hearing about some of the particular details of a “local”.

My “Tricolore” Year

My “Tricolore” Year

One year ago today my plane landed at Milano Malpensa Aeroporto. I caught the train into the center of town, to the Cadorna Station. It was a hot day. I started sweating quickly. My Irish/German skin was bone white in contrast to all those on the street and I laughed. I was whisked through the city here to my apartment where the French doors were open to afternoon light and air pouring through the sheer curtains.

It’s been a YEAR!

(NOTE: “Tricolore” – meaning “three colors” – is the nickname given to the flag of Italy. The colors are listed “green, white and red” (never “red, white and green”. Currently, many Italian flags are flying or hung from windows and balconies in support of the Italian soccer team at the 2010 FIFA World Cup in South Africa.)

Recent journal snippets:

25 Maggio – May 25 – Milano
“The morning sounds have changed to those of summer. Our days are in the low 80s and I sleep with windows open (until the mosquitoes discover me and even the nights require air conditioning).

The birdsong is loud and constant and a joy to me, as it is in Seattle. The other night/morning, I heard the first bird song at 4:14 a.m (I had stayed up late reading). I hear courtyard neighbors chatting. The drone of T.V. Distant traffic and the passing train. I hear the breeze in patio foliage and sounds throughout the building as people go about their morning. Cars come and go through the courtyard gate. All these sounds move through the ever-heavier, ever-warmer air as summer blooms.

Returning to Milano last week has begun a new stage in my time here. It points out my ease and familiarity with this place and its people. Spontaneous conversations come more readily. What a time to leave now that I’m having so much fun! It’s no longer a daily struggle. (It really isn’t much of a struggle at all any more.)

I’m moving in on the 1-year mark and what a year! What an absolutely amazing time this has been (and still is). I’ve really settled into a rhythm. My Italian has advanced enough that I can discuss more complicated ideas, not just my rudimentary daily needs. This allows meetings and connections withheld from me otherwise. Language lets me in. Without language, one is on the outside.

All of this and now I’m leaving? Now that it’s become “easy”, I’m going?!
Yes.

My Italian Year. Complete with the cycle of seasons, a long, dark winter and blazing summer. Sights to inspire and make my head swim. Food and wine so good that I’m bringing 5 pounds of Italy home around my waist. I have met hundreds of people in hundreds of ways and those meetings are the highlights.”

17 Giugno – June 17 – Milano

“A year ago today I got on a plane after having packed up half my life and given the other half away. My coming felt providential. I was compelled without knowing why. There have been times more difficult than I had anticipated, and other times that will always make my eyes sparkle. I truly believe this has been one of the best things I’ve done in and for my life. How wondrous!

And now, just a little over a month before my departure, I find myself as wide-eyed and seeing about Milano as I was about Seattle before I left. My senses are keen. I’m open to all of it with an intensity. I want to take it all in to carry back with me.

I feel a sadness about leaving. Now I know people. Now my heart is tied. I went out for pizza last night with Ewa, at the same restaurant where we met last July, a month after my arrival: Il Kaimon, (in the artsy Brera district. A street musician played classical music on a violin throughout dinner). Last year I was ecstatic to meet her and Piotr. They were my first spontaneous, independent friends here. Ewa and Piotr have remained friends all this time and their friendship has been a blessing. Ewa has fed me countless meals at their home. We’ve shared language, conversation and confidences. As my language grew, so did the depth of our talks. (She has invited me to stay with her when I return to Milano to visit.)

After our dinner, Ewa and I walked back to her apartment arm-in-arm, in Italian tradition, chatting all the way.”

Ewa was shy about my having the camera out.

– – –

The Tricolore shows up in many ways. Yes, I really did see these two t-shirts hanging out to dry over the canal today as I was riding.

 

Jackrabbit or Kangaroo?

Riding my bike along the canal today, I saw two jackrabbits loping through the now-mowed rapeseed field. These weren’t sweet, little bunny rabbits. They were the size of kangaroos! They were huge! I should have chased them through the field with my camera. My mind’s eye is still disbelieving.

– – –

27 Giugno – June 27

I was told yesterday that the animals are “lepre“, hares. I saw a small one yesterday two feet away at the edge of the bike path. It was only a quarter the size of those I had seen earlier.

Meeting Signora Ada

Meeting Signora Ada

Last September, with just a few clues in hand, I wandered around Venice in search of Trattoria da Ignazio. Having heard about the exquisite meals freshly prepared by Signora Ada, I was disappointed to find the restaurant closed for the day, but vowed to return. With wide eyes, my wonderful Italian teacher in Bellevue, Josefina, had raved about the trattoria.

At the top of the list for my visit to Venice last week with my friend, Sally, was a dinner at Signora Ada’s. I was able to navigate right to the trattoria (an amazing feat in Venice) and was surprised by it’s large size. I had expected a much smaller restaurant with one woman in the kitchen. I was puzzled and thought that maybe someone else had taken over the restaurant.

We entered and were greeted by a waiter in a white tux. I asked if Signora Ada was still there. The waiter immediately went to the kitchen and I heard him say (of course in Italian), “Signora Ada, someone’s out here asking for you.”

This pixie-like, spry woman with a bright yellow scarf tied around her neck came out to say hello. I relayed what I had been told of her, and that I had been “commanded” to eat there. We talked for a few minutes, two short women, eye-to-eye. Her sparkling warmth was a delight. We were told she’s been cooking for 70 years (?!)

The restaurant has a large internal dining room, and an even larger outer courtyard, with a vine-covered trellis ceiling. (Choosing to avoid cigarette smoke while we were eating, Sally and I chose the inner dining room.)

I began my meal with Cape Sante au gratin, delicious scallops baked in their shells.

We were well-tended by our waiter, Fausto, who recommended the whole, baked branzino. He even brought it to us on a tray before cooking; it looked like it had been caught just 5 minutes earlier! We ate our appetizers, drank some of the house wine, and then were presented with the fish when simply cooked to perfection with just a little olive oil.

Here’s Fausto, ready to debone the fish for us.

The fish was moist and succulent. Not overdone one minute! Delicate and so freshly flavored.

During the meal, I had to get up and take a peak in the kitchen. Signora Ada was hard at work putting her expert touch into each dish for every fortunate restaurant patron.

After our long and wonderful meal, Sally and I went back to the kitchen door to say goodbye. Signora Ada and I chatted a few minutes more, gave each other kisses on both cheeks, and shared twinkles in our eyes. Her Trattoria da Ignazio is a must for any visit to Venezia!

TRATTORIA DA IGNAZIO
2749, S. Polo – VENEZIA (VE)
Tel: 041.5234852
Web: www.trattoriadaignazio.com

After La Montanara, Why Eat Again?

After La Montanara, Why Eat Again?

“I don’t have to eat anything the entire rest of my life. Nothing could be better than this meal”, said Sally.

It’s worth a trip to Bologna just to eat at Trattoria La Montanara. This small restaurant serves food that will make you swoon. (Be sure to reserve a table ahead of time so you’re not disappointed.)

Sally and I took the train from Milano to Bologna, just a little over an hour. After sightseeing, our day’s highlight was the delicious dinner, seated next to the open doors at the sidewalk’s edge.

The antipasti plate included a prosciutto mousse, quiche of zucchini and smoked scamorza cheese, eggplant pudding with olive tapenade, and a spinach/sausage combo (already devoured by the time I shot this photo.)

Creamy, cheesy, risotto of asparagus and zucchini flowers. Oh my!!! Divine.

Tortelloni of potato and pancetta with a butter and sage sauce.

If you’re a meat eater, what could be better than a perfectly cooked filet with a thick, balsamic vinegar sauce?

Trattoria La Montanara
Via Augusto Righi, 15
40126 Bologna, Italia
Tel: 051 221583

Sally in Milano

Sally in Milano

Sally flew over from Seattle a week ago to share the sights of Milano, the wonderful food treats available and the simple efficiency of my apartment. She came off the plane and out of customs beaming.

We took the Malpensa Express train from the airport into town, and got out at the Cadorna station. We walked out in front so she could see the “Needle, Thread and Knot” sculpture by Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen. The knot is across the street, as if the needle had taken a stitch under the roadway.

Our first breakfast was a caprese salad with mozzarella from the farm, lovely ripe tomatos, just-picked basil, served on a bed of songino – watercress – and some freshly sliced proscuitto. Not a bad welcome to Milano!

On Sally’s first day in Milano, we walked over to the Saturday street market where the vendors were selling fruit, vegetables, cheese, meat, fish, clothes and a few household goods. We stocked our kitchen with fresh basil, red pepper, asparagus, spicy salame with fennel, fresh eggs, cherry tomatoes, blood oranges, pickled onions, both “sweet” and spicy olives, burratina cheese, smoked mozzarella, dried figs from Calabria, prosciutto and bresaola.

With hot weather, we opened the french doors and sat on my “shelf”, as Sally called it. Not quite big enough to be called a deck, or veranda, or lanai, it held our two chairs while we put our feet up on the railing. We chatted in the sun and greeted neighbors as they walked past to go dump their garbage in the room below us.

No trip to Milano would be complete without going out for aperitivi. We walked along the Naviglio Pavese Canal and stopped into one of the many restaurants that were hopping and lively on the hot, muggy night. We selected from their buffet of pasta, cheese, meats, pizza squares… and ribs (of all things). Sally’s martini was oddly sweet and not at all martini-like.

Sally enjoyed online communications, keeping in touch with family through Skype and e-mail.

There’s a wonderful graffiti wall outside of a garden center between Corso Como and the Monumental Cemetery. What a great backdrop! This is one of my favorite photos of Sally in Milano.

We just had to take a stroll through 10 Corso Como, the city’s legendary fashion, accessories, art and design boutique. This is NOT the place to pull out your credit card, but rather just harvest ideas for garment design and construction.

We made reservations for dinner on Saturday at Malavoglia where you ring the doorbell to get in and are greeted by bow-tie-adorned owner, Aldo, and a complementary glass of bubbly prosecco. We shared a primo of fresh pasta with black squid ink sauce. It was delicious.

One of the highlights of Sally’s time in Milano was her visit to the Duomo. We spent time in the piazza, “the living room of the city”. We walked its circumference marveling at the variation in details and gloried at the cathedral’s interior. We topped off the tour with time on the rooftop, getting up close to the sculptures, finials and gargoyles, and looking out over the city.

My Room with a View

My Room with a View

This two-room apartment of mine is really pretty great: A bedroom with lots of storage, two skinny little less-than-twin beds, and a table for sorting things. A well-functioning bathroom. A loft space that I’ve blocked off with fabric and use to store anything I don’t want to look at or use. And one big, high-ceilinged room with a cozy couch, long work table, room for my bike and more kitchen space than most of the kitchens I’ve seen while here in Italy. And I can clean the whole place in about 10 minutes!

When I’m home, I spend most of my time at the table, working at my computer. For the first few months, the lack of light was putting me to sleep, so I rearranged the space and put the table in front of the tall french doors. I also bought some inexpensive but bright lighting which gives me daylight at midnight if I want it. What a difference it made in my energy level!

Here’s an introduction to my “view” out of the french doors while sitting at my desk. I can look upward through the scrolled bars and see the plants in the neighbors’ terrace above me. Nice to see the green! I hung a sheer, white curtain at a 4 foot height so that I’m not in such a fish bowl. I’m on the ground floor and people walk right past me as they go down into the garbage room below me.

If I look up from my desk and too the right, I can see a patch of blue sky. I hadn’t realized how important it was for me to see the sky. Until I put up that 4 foot sheer, I had the full-height curtain closed all of the time, and I felt so enclosed! With the sheer, short drape, I can look out and still have privacy.

My french doors actually face out into a tight, dark cubby. The afternoon light hits my windows for a short time each day in summer. In winter, the light is nil. In this photo, my bathroom window is to the left, and the window at my kitchen sink is to the right of the french doors.

The bottom floor and part of the second floor of this building complex are filled with offices. The windows open up into this courtyard which serves as parking for workers and the few residents. You can see my neighbor’s garden terrace. It really is a bright spot for me.

I live on Via Bordighera, a couple miles south of my beloved Duomo. This shot (below) looks north on our dead-end road which stops at the train tracks a half block north of my apartment. That’s my bedroom window circled there. They park the glass recycling trucks on the street right outside my bedroom window when making their collection. The mural on the south wall takes an otherwise bland face and dresses it up.

These two apartment buildings sit askew on their lot and are surrounded by trees. The birds love this lot, so the neighborhood sounds like an aviary, believe it or not! I’m thrilled by the prevalence of the bird song.

Street signs are typically made of slabs of marble, about a half inch thick.

This is the intersection at Via Bordighera and Via Imperia: my neighborhood, looking west. All the buildings at this corner have their corners chopped off, so it creates a wide, octagonal intersection and cars park every which way. I buy my water and chat with Enza at their little shop on the corner at the farthest left.

From this intersection, I would turn around and go one block east to the Naviglio Pavese (canal) that I love so much. It’s SO close!

This is where I live.

Certosa on a Sunny Day

Certosa on a Sunny Day

A sunny holiday in the middle of the week calls for a bike ride. Apparently every family in Milano had the same thought; the bike path along the canal was crowded with those rolling tra-la-la along. I, on the other hand, felt full of vim and vigor so I pushed myself hard for an hour until I was further along the canal than I had gone before: Certosa di Pavia.

What a beautiful little town about 15 miles south of Milano. I saw spires to the east and followed them to a gem of a church I had been unaware of.

“The Certosa di Pavia Gra-Car (“Charterhouse of Pavia – Gratiarum Chartusia”), Shrine of the Blessed Virgin Mary Mother of Grace, is a monastery and complex in Lombardy, northern Italy, situated near a small town of the same name in the Province of Pavia, 8 km north of Pavia. Built in 1396-1495, it was once located on the border of a large hunting park belonging to the Visconti family of Milan, of which today only scattered parts remain.

Certosa is the Italian name for a house of the cloistered monastic order of Carthusians founded by St. Bruno in 1044 at Grande Chartreuse. Though the Carthusians in their early centuries were known for their seclusion and asceticism and the plainness of their architecture, the Certosa is renowned for the exuberance of its architecture, in both the Gothic and Renaissance styles, and for its collection of artworks which are particularly representative of the region.”

(Read more in Wikipedia.)

I enjoyed the verdant courtyard between the entry gate and the church’s door, and marveled at the detail-laden exterior. Photos were not allowed inside of the church, nor were such casual, immodest clothes as biker’s lycra, so I could only stand at the doorway and peer in at the vaulted, starry ceiling overhead.

How wonderful to hop on my bike, discover a place I hadn’t seen yet, and unexpectedly see something so beautiful! As I rode away, the sun was bouncing off the rice paddies alongside the church compound. The wind picked up strongly and required that I shift gears to ride against it, arriving home in advance of a northern storm that loomed dark but never materialized.

Festa della Repubblica

Festa della Repubblica

While here in Milano for the cycle of a full year, I’ve tried to get some sense of every holiday or special occasion. I’ve attended, or found myself caught in the middle of, festivals, parades, fairs and spontaneous crowds, and each one tells me a little more about Italia and her people. Yesterday was Festa della Repubblica.(See the wikipedia entry below.) I went online to find out what the city was doing for the holiday and I found mention of the ceremony at the Piazza del Duomo.

I came up out of the subway into the piazza at a quarter ’til noon. Being little, I weasled my way toward the front of the crowd so I could see better. A military brass band was playing, and a half dozen military groups were standing in formation.

At noon, they began raising the flags of Italia, Milano and the European Union. (I was amused that the visual backdrop for the ceremony was not the Duomo, but rather a sexy sunglasses ad for Dolce & Gabbana. I’m sure D&G planned their ad placement for this precise timing!)

When the national anthem played, the crowd around me sang with passion, especially the older folks. A marching procession followed, with each of the military groups in formation. Firefighters and local police were included in the groups.

It was a short march around the corner of the piazza then down to the side of the Duomo and the courtyard in front of the Palazzo Reale. (I was surprised when I got a little choked up.)

Small groups of city officials and military leaders gathered for informal portraits, then people dispersed into their midweek holiday.

Festa della Repubblica (literally Festival of the Republic or, in English, Republic Day) is celebrated in Italy on the second of June each year. The day commemorates the institutional referendum held by universal suffrage in 1946, in which the Italian people were called to the polls to decide on the form of government, following the Second World War and the fall of Fascism. With 12,717,923 votes for a republic and 10,719,284 for the monarchy, the male descendants of the House of Savoy were sent into exile. To commemorate it, a grand military parade is held in central Rome, presided by the President of the Republic in the role of Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces. The Prime Minister and other authorities attend too.”

An article (in Italian) on Milano’s web site:
“Festa Repubblica per recuperare i valori del Paese”
“Festa Repubblica to recover the values of the Country.”

The Milanese Man Purse

The Milanese Man Purse

Two “fashion” trends persist for men around here: orange-colored pants and the Milanese “man purse”, a sleeker, chic-er version of the multi-pocketed, safari vest. U.S. travel outfitters sell them as “travel vests”, but here in Milano, they are daily wear for the 60-80 set. Now that winter has gone, these functional garments have come out of the closets to populate the streets.

Yes, the term “man purse” has been used to describe the over-the-shoulder messenger bag and all its variations in which men carry cell phones, keys, PDAs, cameras, laptops, chargers, files, books and everything else they’re tethered to for the day. But man-purse-as-vest distributes the load, leaving men hands-free yet porting all of their necessaries.

As seen around Milano, the man purse vest comes in many colors, in both light and heavy weight fabrics, with zippered, buttoned or snapped pockets. They are either bulky or streamline, pared-down-basic or over-pocketed.

Along the Naviglio Grande on Sunday, after a long day at the antiques market, I stepped into an osteria for a bite to eat. I perched at a window table and set my camera for stealth photography of the steady parade of men in vests. It was a concentrated show of vest styles and their wearers. These surreptitious photos joined those that I began shooting last summer.

Who started this trend? When, where and how did this begin? Does it extend throughout Italy, or only here in the north? Will it go away any time soon? (Doubtful.)

Double jackpot! Man Purse plus orange (or yellow) pants! Yes!
(I’d like to see the yellow vest with the orange pants.)