New Year’s Eve. 1:14 on a sunny afternoon. My tall doors open to the cool, 43-degree air, sun and the canal view streaming in. How delightful to sit here, cat-like, enjoying this bright winter day.
I crave light and this south-facing balcony satisfies my yearning. Doors wide open, I’ll warm the house back up later.
The bubbling chicken stock has made the house smell good, though I now realize I’m flushing all the scent out with this fresh air. A fine trade.
This moment is a perfection and I made the choices to create it. I recognize my good fortune to be able to do so.
I could sit here all afternoon just feeling the sun transit the sky!
Just arrived this morning after complex travel prep due to Covid-19, two days of almost no sleep, and 24 hours of travel. Door-to-door.
But so content as I sit here in my canal-side appartamento, hearing the apperitivo hub-bub along the Naviglio Grande (Grand Canal) through the double-pane windows. The Christmas light decorations illuminate my apartment.
I’m on the third floor, as Americans would call it. “Secondo Piano” as Italians would say. What we call the first floor is the “terra piano“, the ground floor. The “first floor” is the floor up from that.
“Ho messo tutto a posto. Tutto in ordine. Sistemato. Organizzato.” I put everything just right. Everything in order. Systematized. Organized.
A great flat with a quite ample kitchen, dining table (desk), living room, and non-scary stairs that go up to the loft bedroom and bathroom. (Going up the stairs during the day to use the bathroom is better than having to navigate the stairs down…and back up…in the dark middle of the night.)
I’m on the north side of the canal, so I will get morning and daylight sun streaming in from the canal-side, tall, balcony doors. That thrills me.
And I’m in my traditional neighborhood: “Zona Navigli“. The Canal Zone. I’ve always been in this area and it feels like home. Only a couple of times smack ON the canal, but this has become my default spot. I have friends, favorite restaurants, grocery stores, little shops that I frequent.
Two years have passed since I was last here. It feels like ages, but also like no time at all. Feels like almost yesterday as I move through town to get “home” to my apartment.
But also, the world has changed. Milano has changed. I’ve changed. Italy… and the whole world, bore horrible onslaught from the Covid pandemic… and we still bear it, and likely will for who knows how long.
Italy has “strict regulations” in place, not wanting to endure the loss they bore when the pandemic began. But I do see caution being set aside more than I imagined. So I have to navigate and create my own personal safety as I am comfortable.
I am so glad to be here. This place…Milano…Italia…has been feeding my heart, my brain, my soul, since 2008, every year adding to the bank of inspiration, reference and memory.
I just couldn’t imagine staying away another year. My time here feeds me. Feeds my being.
My Apartment Along the Grand Canal
My “block” along the canal
My apartment along the canal, with it’s bedroom dormer
Entering my apartment, into the kitchen
My living room with high doors that open to a balcony with the canal view
My loft bedroom
My bathroom, with a big shower
Classic “ringhiera” courtyard, outside my apartment
The stairway up to my apartment
My Neighborhood in the “Zona Navigli”, Canal Zone
The view from my balcony, looking out along the “Naviglio Grande”, the Grand Canal.
Looking west along the canal, past my apartment
Auguri and Vativision
“Auguri”. Best Wishes
Piazza 24 Maggio
San Gottardo
Market stalls at La Darsena.
Looking south down the Naviglio Pavese.
I know how to eat!
Linguine with teeny, tiny “seppiolini”, little squid
Bread platter at Al Pont de Ferr
Cauliflower. Foamy, and neither soup
Gnocchi with black truffle
Warm “salad” of octopus, potato and taggiasche olives. My favorite
Mussels
Shrimp, tomatoes, pane carasau
“Alici”, fresh anchovies with lemon juice and EVOO
Smoked tuna
Pane carasau, octopus and potato, smoked tuna, scallop
Journal Entry: Wednesday, 12 September 2018 – Milan
Did I really just arrive in my home-away-from-home, Milan, this morning?! Here I am again. And it all feels so easy and familiar. Not that there is nothing new or no challenge. There is still much to see, explore, discover, learn. This place stretches me differently than Burien and Seattle. AND it’s a time entirely for me. (This is my 11th year of coming here.)
My apartment on the 5th floor, (circled), above the Naviglio night life.
I’m in a 5th floor walkup apartment*, no elevator. 90 Steps up to the front door. The entrance looks out over inner courtyards, gold-hued stucco, tile rooftops. Inside, there is an opening window from floor to ceiling that looks directly down onto the Naviglio Grande (the Grand Canal) and it’s changing bustle. The white noise of wine-fueled conversation during the evening aperitivo is oddly comfortable. *(The Italians call it the 4th floor; the ground floor is floor zero.)
The view to the south from the apartment entry door.
The view to the north from the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Naviglio Grande.
Other than celebrating my birthday in 3 days, and honoring Patti on the 2nd anniversary of her death, and having 2 girlfriends come here for 2 weeks… I don’t have a big, new goal or purpose for this trip. It’s just that I can’t not have my time in Italia, for whatever it is to me.
Journal Entry: Friday, 14 September 2018 – Milan, 8:30 a.m.
Sitting canalside, way up high, listening to morning sounds of church and cyclists’ bells, deliveries on cobblestone, traffic, sidewalk conversations. The city awakens.
Yesterday, I made my pilgrimage into the center of town to the Duomo (Cathedral) di Milano – which I love – and then strolled around through the adjacent Galleria and to Luini’s for a Panzerotto. Just being here with ease and familiarity… Feeling nestled in as much as a foreigner can.
The Duomo di Milano
Near the southeast corner of the Duomo, there is a sculpture of a disemboweled man. I suppose the sculptures and paintings were meant to inspire the illiterate masses to live according to the Church’s tenets… or suffer the consequences.
The domed, glass roof of the Galleria.
One of the Louis Vuitton window displays in the Galleria.
Luini’s was established in 1888 and is a popular spot with locals and those that stumble upon it, tucked onto a side street just north of the Duomo. They sell Panzerotti: stuffed, deep-fried (or baked) hot pockets. Lots of filling options!
Along the Naviglio Grande (Grand Canal) the San Cristoforo dragon boats and kayaks cruise through every day, to the beat of a drummer to keep time, occasionally accompanied by the church bells. (CanottieriSanCristoforo.it)
Journal Entry: Thursday, 20 September 2018 – Milan
Days have been hot and humid, but have turned delicious, from 75 – 80 degrees and a freshness from a few nighttime showers.
View from the sleeping loft, down into the living room and beyond, to the Naviglio night life.
It is rather dreamy that I “get” to do this. But really, there’s no “getting” involved. I have made and do make different choices and I’ve structured my life so that I can spend some of it here in an entirely different place and mode.
My Farmer’s Market Purchases: Clockwise, from upper left: Taralli with black pepper, produce bag with the Duomo on it, Borlotti beans, castelvetrano olives, pickled onions, turkish figs, yellow peaches, onions, tuna stuffed red peppers, green string beans.
This feeds me, and it pushes me. Foreign country, language, customs. And Milan. An international seat of design, which gives it such contrast and stark visual appeal. The old history, side-by-side with clean, high design, honed and spare. I thrill at Milan. Every city could take a lesson from its well-defined branding and identity.
The recycling trucks start along the Naviglio Grande at about 6:00 in the morning. Since the Naviglio is such a restaurant and drinking hot spot, there are thousands of bottles to be collected. The sound they make when dumped is such a crashing clamor to wake up to!
Journal Entry: Saturday, 22 September 2018 – Milan
Warm day. The Naviglio is in a relaxed stroll. A street musician is playing his guitar along the canal, out in front of the elementary school. The white noise of conversation at outdoor, umbrella-covered cafè tables drifts up to my open window, high above. I marvel that this is possible. That I can pack my bags, bring my work and step into this life for a period. Remarkable.
Saturday morning, 11:30. The church bell just tolled. Birds in the courtyard. A lovely, fresh breeze through the open windows. Sunny and warm. And someone in the neighboring building has been playing scales on a synthesizer keyboard creating the kind of repetitious, monotonous sound that makes me “fuori di testa” – out of my head. But it can’t be changed, and that acceptance allows me to ignore it.
I just got word that they will start today to completely tear out and rebuild my little courtyard. They will leave 5 of the large plants and all else will be removed: the Day Lilies, the delicate, purple “Mouth of the Lion” that I had just photographed, the hidden yellow flower I found, the wild strawberries. Granted, the courtyard is jungle-like, but it’s given me little pleasures. It will also be torn up as my place to enjoy my coffee in the morning, and it will no longer have the privacy afforded by foliage. But I am transient here and will always find my joys. I hope they create a new treasure.
Moments before the gardener returned this afternoon to cut, I made one last bouquet (set with a bowl of fresh figs from this morning’s market).
At 10:15 last night, I stepped out the front gate from the public courtyard of my apartment complex and headed north along the canal for a couple-mile walk.
I crossed over the small foot bridge near my place, then glanced over and noticed a couple of older women sitting out on their second floor balcony, also enjoying the evening.
The place was hoppin’. Milano has turned warm and humid and the evenings are for socializing. It’s the “passeggiata”, the walk through town to see and be seen. It’s the social hour… the pre- or post-meal digestif… the expression of social position… the time to hypothesize, criticize or seal-the-deal… the time to procaim romantic status, whether available or not.
Thousands of people were out strolling with friends, seated at sidewalk tables, riding their bikes or standing at the canal balustrade with a glass of wine or beer, chatting. It’s the thing to do here. It’s part of the day’s fabric in Italy. (Balmy evenings certainly encourage the outdoor visitin’, but I saw this in the middle of winter, too, just without the number of outdoor tables.)
I live in the “Zona Navigli”, the Canal Zone, (approximately where the number 1 is on the map below). (Naviglio means one canal, roughly pronounced “nah-VEE-lio”. Navigli is plural.) Each time I’ve been living/staying in Milano it’s been in this neighborhood. Though the broad area around and including Milano has a series of inter-connected canals – which Leonardo da Vinci played a part in devising – the neighborhood IN the city is referred to as the “Navigli” and includes the triangular area between the Naviglio Grande and the Naviglio Pavese, and areas closely adjoining these two canals.
When I lived here for 14 months, I rode my bike several times a week south along the Naviglio Pavese, then west into the farmland. I’ve been on my bike as far south as Pavia, as far west as Abbiategrasso and as far east at Trezzo Sull’Adda. (Click on the map for a larger view.) Note the locations of Lago (Lake) Maggiore and Lago di Como up north. I’ve been told of bike routes from Milano up to the lakes, but have not been fortunate enough to ride them. “Fiume”, by the way, means river.
The Zona Navigli is a pretty “hip, young, creative” neighborhood, with schools in the area, and one of Milano’s design hub areas. At canalside, one finds art galleries and antique shops, used books stores, gelaterie, pizzarie and every other sort of place to get a bite to eat. It’s also one of Milano’s Happy Hour Aperitivo hot spots. Eight euros will get you a drink and food from the buffet table. (It can be a cheap dinner, but if you want one more glass of wine or beer, you pay the 8 euros again.)
This first video was shot at the junction of the north-south Naviglio Pavese, (along which is located my casa) and the east-west Naviglio Grande. Listen to the voices, the street noise, the general hub-bub. Note, also, that there are two local police officers there if needed.
People have asked me whether I feel safe out walking around so late. Tell me, does it LOOK like danger? I’m appropriately aware and vigilant, but I think the evening crowds are a lot like bees when they’re swarming: they’re not interested in stinging, they only care about following the queen. In this situation, people are just relaxed, talking and people-watching. There are likely some on the prowl for theft or mischief, but I never sense any red flags rising.
Here’s a second video taken just a few feet away from the first, looking at the display case of the pastry shop open late to satisfy a sweet tooth.
This second video shows a 180 degree view, which looks down the Naviglio Grande, then scans the large, stone-paved street. Note the wide flat barge-type tour boat in the middle of the canal.
At the point where I turn around in my walking loop, there’s a building with highly stylized graffiti lettering. It’s been there for a number of years, but still pleases my eye with its character. “No name, no fame. No?”
There are a couple of foot bridges the cross over the Naviglio Grande in this stretch closest to town. In this third video, I’m standing on the second bridge, giving a full look around. By this time it was almost 11:00 pm.
I was amused by the music being broadcast across the canal from the small trattoria on the other side.
Happy Father’s Day to my own “Pop”, and to the other men that I know that get to say that they are “Dad”.
Sunday morning, 10:00 a.m. Father’s Day. The sun is bright in my courtyard and I’m out enjoying a CUP of coffee (not a two-sip Italian shot). Since construction workers have been rebuilding the adjoining courtyard 6 days a week, Sunday is the only time for privacy in my garden.
New flowers are blooming here in my secret green space. The hydrangeas have come on with vivid magenta. Daylily flower heads are ready to create their own profusion of bloom. And some delicate flower on 3-foot, leafy plants – that I almost pulled out! – is blooming in clusters around my stone shard patio. I have no idea what they are. (See below.)
The day is early, yet already warm. Outdoor activities should be done early or late today, with a nap in the middle. I hear couples talking, children playing, birds singing in the trees and shrubs, and the street-sweeper truck cleaning the Saturday night debris. Sunday morning with a warm sun; do things before the midday heat.
Standing in my skinny kitchen, washing the dishes, I heard a couple of women talking. I looked out my kitchen window and its security bars, across the long, common courtyard and saw two women chatting, five floors up, at the corner elbow of the building.
This must be the Italian city equivalent of “talking over the fence”, like I do with my neighbors back at home.
I ran to grab my camera, leaned over the sink of sudsy water, shot between the bars on the window and caught a couple of images of women that have likely been telling stories from balcony-to-balcony for years.
I pushed my camera to its max and caught what might have been a moment of shocking news.
Do you think they also get together for a coffee or snack, in the same room, now and then?
Living in an Italian apartment, a “casa”, I’m privy to moments of “real life” that I wouldn’t be if I were isolated and insulated in a traveler’s residence or long stay hotel. I just go about my day like “the rest of the Italians”.
Shortly after arriving in Milano, I had a nesting moment and went out to pull weeds in and around my little courtyard just to tidy it up and make it a little less jungle-like. It’s really a pleasant garden spot in the midst of these 8-story city apartments. It’s tucked in a narrow passage on the north side between two buildings, just an easy stone’s toss from the canal.
This narrow, verdant swath is divided into 6 separate gardens by chicken wire and chainlink. Between my garden and the canal is a plot that’s being torn up and rebuilt as part of a new art gallery going in along the street. (I’ve been hearing jackhammers and sledges start early in the morning as a part of the remodeling.)
Seeing the demolition going on, and seeing the hydrangeas that were just starting to bloom on the other side of the chainlink, I called out to the workers and asked if the flowers were also being torn out. They were unsure of the flowers’ fate. I suggested that it’d be a shame not to cut and enjoy a few of the flowers, and they agreed. I loaned Marco a pair of scissors, and he cut 2 big stems for me.
I made a lovely bouquet of “Neighborly Hydrangeas” rescued from the rubble, arranging them in a “quartino” pitcher (quarter liter) I found in the kitchen cupboard, and placed it on a vintage tray and damask table cloth, also found amidst the house odds-and-ends.
So simple and so beautiful, here in my Italian home-away-from-home.
The mid-afternoon sunlight is coming into my almost-three-foot-wide, skinny kitchen and it strikes me as so beautiful. It’s almost a black and white shot, except for that delicious green mug, a sprinkling of red, painted petals on another mug, and red pepper lip stains on the cotton napkin. Nothing contrived or set up, yet it is all so perfect. I smile.
May 15 Journal Entry – London Heathrow Tarmac. Departing soon for Milano.
“Sleepy and subdued after the long flight from Seattle to London, but I look forward to flying into Italian skies, seeing the distinctive Italianate architecture down below me. After arrival at Malpensa and retrieval of my one checked bag, I’ll take the train into Cadorna Station, then on to my apartment, my ‘casa‘.*
“Following my previous returns to Milano, there’s always the delight in the ride through town to my apartment, savoring the familiarity I feel for the city and its neighborhoods. Typical of most big cities, the street scenes are peopled and alive. But particular to Milano and to other Italian cities, are the narrow passages, the cobbles, the shutters, the ornate street-facing balconies, the stone work and visual details.
“Maybe this evening, I’ll go for a walk along the canal to stretch my legs and revel in my return (or maybe I’ll just get some sleep early!)
(A “casa“, though it means “house”, is also “home” and is used to refer to units within condo and apartment buildings. “Villa” refers to stand-alone homes on a private lot. I, therefore, live in a “villa” in Burien… and it feels like it!)
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“It’s always striking to me to see that the land surrounding Milano is checkered with glistening rice paddies. Italy is so very agricultural.”
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“I have not missed the omnipresent cigarette smoke!”
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My apartment is along Milano’s canal, “Naviglio Pavese” and this is the nightlife hotspot across the water from my front entrance. The whole length of the canal is like this, as is the Naviglio Grande. Filled with the hip, the young and the artistic.
Canalside view across the Naviglio Pavese (Canal) from my apartment entrance. (Click the photo for a larger view.)
May 16, Wednesday. Milano. 7:00 a.m. Journal Entry
“The wind howled all night and the sound confused me. I thought it must have been pouring rain as well, but the first birds sang at 5:05 in the midst of the gusts. When I got up and looked out into the main courtyard, I was startled. It was bone dry.
“What had been rattling and shaking all night were the ‘tapparelle’, the security/privacy shutters that all of Italy closes after dark, sealing themselves in against ___?____ Now, with my shutters open, I see morning sun on the building across the courtyard and welcome the light. The birds continue to sing.
“I’m in a 2 bedroom student apartment in the Navigli Zone, ‘my neighborhood’. This is home and familiar. It’s where I know and have lived each time before, so it warms my heart to have returned.
Canalside view. My apartment building is the one just to the left of the tallest building in the middle, on the right (west) side of the canal.
“Much of Milano has ‘secret gardens’, inner courtyards invisible from the streets. The building facades front the sidewalks and gates, and inset doors allow entrance.
The large green gate at the left opens wide for cars and motorbikes, but has a smaller door for foot passage to my apartment complex.
“Once inside, there is generally an inner courtyard, often lush green with plantings. My ‘casa‘ here now has a large public courtyard (for residents) with half a dozen large trees. I also have a small staircase off the other bedroom that enters my own private, planted courtyard, ideal for journaling and sipping a glass of wine. (My location smack next to the canal, however, puts me right in the midst of mosquito-heaven, so I may have to buy some citronella candles.)
At the very end of this video, you see my two tall, thin windows into my bathroom and kitchen, and the shuttered windows into my eating/sitting room.
“The wind is easing off. The sky is blue and sunlight is filling my bedroom. Light-junkie that I am, it pleases me.
“Now I will put on some music and set to work tidying this place and making it mine for the time-being.”
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Here’s a walking tour of my “casa” – my apartment – in Milano, along the Naviglio Pavese (canal).
House notes:
Doesn’t everyone have the Pietá on their microwave?
A wild piece of vintage fabric forms a curtain covering some shelving. There are cupboard doors in front of the curtain, but I couldn’t bear to close them and hide the fabric.
I can’t do much “decorating”, so I’m making do with what’s here. For instance, I rehung that painted plate and rooster pheasant painting. The baroque mirror, shelf and chair were already here, amidst Ikea-style. Funny.
The front door, not unusual, opens half-width to slip through. Entering with bags of groceries requires some shimmying… or I could open the full width. Note the locking mechanism and absence of a turning door knob. I use my funky keys for the locks.
The shower door opens to a maximum of 13.5″, so if your body is wider than that at its largest point, you will NOT fit in!
A bidet is standard-issue even in a student apartment.
My kitchen is 35″ wide. (I have not found this to be typical of the Italian kitchens I’ve seen.)
These large, quirky, quasi-skeleton keys are sculpture in themselves.
