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
The day of the Mercatone Antiquariato—big, antiquarian market—here in Milano, stretching out along both sides and the length of the Naviglio Grande—the Grand Canal. Always the last Sunday of the month, and always attended by hordes, both Italian and foreign. It’s fascinating just to LOOK, whether you find anything to cart home with you or not.
I also go to the other, smaller markets with painter Loredano on Sunday mornings, bright and early. Vendors are out there setting up by flashlight, and buyers/browsers also come with flashlights, hoping to catch sight of some treasure before someone else snatches it.
Antiques are older here in Italy. I overhear “the regulars” discussing items: “Oh, it’s not very old. It’s only from the 1800s.” It’s very funny to me. In the U.S., if it’s 50 years old, it’s an “antique”, or thereabouts.
Another curious thing is how they note the centuries. They say “Ottocento“—800—rather than 1800. The same with 700, 600, etc. They drop the 1000.
At the flea markets, I find things that are centuries old, that have traded hands who knows how many times, have ended up bouncing around in an old cardboard box in the back of some vendor’s van, and then displayed on the pavement. A select few of those things have ended up back in Burien with me. One notable treasure is the Big Old Book I brought home a couple of years ago that is a collection of documents with the earliest date of 1576. What a history these things have! If only I knew all the places they’ve been.
8:15 P.M. and someone out there is playing the violin. There are also sounds of dogs, kids and dinner dishes. Occasionally a baby’s cry and people sneezing. This inner courtyard is a neighborhood unto itself, and very typically Milanese.
As you walk around Milan, the sidewalks are all faced with storefronts and “portoni”, great big gates sized for car entry, with small person-sized doors included. Behind those gates, one finds a courtyard, a garden, a mini-paradise sometimes. Bikes have their spots. There’s a patch of grass, or more. Some trees. Parking stalls for those that venture having cars. But none of this would you know from out on the sidewalk.
I’ve never been in an apartment with such a grand, expansive inner “courtyard”. That word seems hardly descriptive enough of the number of neighbors that must look out into this inner square of peace in the city. The multi-use buildings surrounding this enclosed space are 8 floors high. Out on the street around me, one finds a very large book store, cafés, bakeries, a kebab restaurant, a natural foods store, and a large grocery store, along with other smaller businesses. So much is all right here.
And my terrace! “La mia terrazza!” It’s bigger than my whole apartment! I could have a party with 50 or more out there enjoying the evening balm. (When I lived here for a year, my “terrace” was so small we called it “the shelf”.)
This really is a fabulous location. Because it’s encircled within this “courtyard”, it’s mostly shielded from city traffic sounds. For the most part, I hear the “neighbors”. Yet, in two blocks’ walk, I can be at the grocery store, or an even shorter walk to the metro. I can walk on the paths through two green parks to arrive at Leonardo’s Grand Canal, the Naviglio Grande, lined with restaurants, shops, artists’ studios and nightlife. I can easily hop onto the metro subway and get into the heart of town within 15 minutes, or rather choose to stroll and enjoy the sights along the way.
Che divino! How divine. Oh yes, it’s city life, but I did my stint on The Farm for 2 decades, so I’m not interested in “Under the Tuscan Sun”, renovating a dilapidated farm house. I want the hubbub and offerings of this big, international city. I want easy access to it all. I want the buzz and energy of it. But I also appreciate the peace offered to me by this giant terrace, jutting out into this enclosed space, private and yet oh so visible by all the other “neighbors”.
It’s been a pause, a respite from one endeavor so I could shift energies and surge headlong into others. I took a break from documentation so that participation could be intense and entire. And it has been.
After the visual lushness of Prague last July, I returned to Milano for just a few days before heading back out for a 12-day whirlwind typographic tour with Legacy of Letters. Our days started early, ended late and were filled in between with letterforms and conversation. These months later, many of us still keep in touch. The lasting connection is a surprise gift.
The tour ended and I returned to Milano to gather my things and my wits, suntanned, thinking in Italian and in the dreamy end-days of goodbye. I had no plan to return to Italy 10 months later and didn’t know when I would.
I’m a veteran of re-entry now, but it still plunges me deep and solo and quiet. It takes a while to get my head together after returning from life off-and-away. It’s as if I’ve been to the moon and back. I hunker down and get private, and very selective.
Really, it takes a couple months to get back in my groove here, not feeling jarred and jolted by contrasts and absences.
In time, I got my momentum back up and strong. I’ve explored snow crystals and cloudscapes. HTML and CSS. Intimate, heartfelt time and public, community time. I have enjoyed satisfying work and creative, personal expression. I took a big bite, savoring flavors both sweet and sour, and filled my belly in these last 10 months.
Yet still I felt a pang at the idea of not tasting Italy, not setting foot along the Naviglio Grande – the Grand Canal. Not sharing meals with friends I cherish there. Italia… Milano… has become a second home for me. My heart and mind have been pierced with a barbed and complex arrow which cannot be removed.
And so I find myself on the eve of departure. I look forward to a “going home”. It’s not the external excitement of a first visit I feel. It’s deep and fundamental; it’s in my gut and my core.
I have crafted a life which twines two places half a world apart. I marvel at it, find it jaw-dropping and am humbled and grateful more than I could ever communicate. It is a “well-wrought life”, as a friend once said.
Just days from now, I will make my pilgrimage to my beloved Duomo of Milano. I will take very late night strolls along the canals. I will ride a bike into the farmland for fresh ricotta, share meals with dear friends, switch to Italian 98% of the time and fill myself with inspiration. My time in Italy is deeply challenging, deeply nourishing, deeply invigorating.
It is an incredible gift to live so full-on, to be so vital, so stimulated.
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.
A bunch of friends and I met up for a lecture at 9:15 pm at the Design Library. I walked almost a mile along the canals and side streets to meet them there.
Afterwards, we all went out for a bite to eat at 11:00, walking to the restaurant. We each ordered our own pizza (I ate half of mine) and some limoncello afterwards. Then we walked part of the way back together; we split up and I continued on home alone, arriving at 1:30 am.
Whether it’s naivete or genuine security, I walk home alone late at night and don’t feel concerned. Especially here by the canals, there are always a lot of people out walking, riding their bikes, talking, gathering in front of the local bars.
It should be no wonder that Italians are, for the most part pretty trim and not fighting the weight issues seen in America. It’s routine to walk 2 or 3 miles to and from dinner, in addition to everywhere else they go on foot and by bike!
The Naviglio Grande – The Grand Canal – is between my casa and the metro subway station, Porta Genova. This gives me plenty of opportunity to stroll the canals and see what I can see, to allow my eye to be caught by sight.
Pharmacy and Sweet Shop, with residences above.
This is the door to an artist’s studio. The Naviglio Grande is lined with studios, antique shops, restaurants and gelato sellers. It’s a hot spot in the evening!
Classic look in signage and appearance satisfies the stereotype of “Italian Style”, likely drawing the tourists.
A pigeon wandered into the other bedroom, twice, off the balcony.
A child was practicing lessons on a recorder flute, playing “Somewhere (There’s a Place for Us)”. The sound was amplified through the courtyard, allowing us all to “enjoy” the practice. It actually wasn’t too bad.
The neighbors next door must be good cooks, or at least they use aromatic ingredients. Our corner balconies are just 10 feet apart and I’ve been enjoying the scent of their meals wafting through the balcony doors at lunch and dinner.
– – –
I arrived in Milano yesterday after my southern tour, and got into my apartment at 5:00. After a bit of a breather, I launched into nesting, making it mine. This is a “student-grade” apartment, for 19-to-22-year-olds, and they’ve cleaned it about like one would expect of 19-to-22-year-olds. I scrubbed grime until 1:30 in the morning. I had bought groceries, but couldn’t put them away until I cleaned the fridge. I couldn’t clean the fridge until I had a clean sink and counters to work on. And so it went. I couldn’t go to sleep until I had a clean bed to sleep in.
This apartment building is two blocks away from the apartment I had when I lived here, but that one was on a quieter, dead-end street. This first floor (one floor up from the ground) apartment has one balcony that looks out onto a four-lane road that dumps right onto and off of the highway. At 1:15 in the morning, just before heading off to sleep, sure enough, the street cleaners – my nemeses – were out pressure-washing the streets and sidewalks, as if to say “Welcome Back.” The traffic noise is a constant “white” in the background, but I actually slept well last night.
Everything got scoured: floors, counters, stove, dishes, fridge, desktops, sheets, bathroom fixtures, shelves. I couldn’t put things away until I had clean places to put them. I took all of the unneeded items and stashed them out of sight in the other bedroom, or decoratively on the wall storage units. I rearranged. Then I bought some string and tied the two scrawny-thin beds together to get an approximately queen sized bed. Ahh. Room to turn over at night! I also bought a new shower curtain, and a few other cheap details that add a little character.
“My Room”, with shelves, desks, string-tied beds, closets:
The other bedroom, with my attempt at “art” of 4 fans and 3 lights. (My towels and toilet paper are similarly arranged in “My” room.) The poster was already on the wall, and I decided to leave it:
Of the shower curtains readily-available for cheap, this was the best option. (The old one was torn and mildewed. Being here for 5 weeks, I can afford to buy a new shower curtain for the pleasure – relief – it will give me!)
I’m 4 doors away from the best pastry shop in the city, Pasticceria Spezia Milano. Too bad I generally don’t like pastries. I make an exception for their “Babá” though. That’s the sponge cake that’s soaked in rum such that the rum runs down my arm to my elbow when I take a bite.
The apartment’s also only 2 blocks away from my treasured Naviglio Pavese Canal, along which the paved bike path runs! I’ve got a bike in the other room waiting for a ride tomorrow.
(If I told anyone that I have a two-bedroom apartment with 4 beds, 2 balconies, fabulous kitchen, full bathroom and ideal city location I’d probably have a crowd flying into Milano Malpensa Airport for a visit! What a great apartment, all to myself. Shhh. Don’t tell.)
Now that I’ve cleaned, organized and gotten settled in for my 5 weeks here, I can breathe easy and get back to work on my clients’ projects, and I can post some of the 1600 photos I’ve shot in the last 3 weeks. Stay tuned.
Always an exercise in “packing light”, I keep removing things from my one-and-only carry-on bag for two weeks in the south of “The Boot”. After a week in Milano, I’m heading to south to wander around. First, I’ll explore Sicilia for a week. Then I’ll take a train along the “sole of the boot”, to Puglia, right at “the heel”. I’ll stay for a couple of nights in a traditional Trullo in Alberobello (Google: trulli alberobello italy), then a couple of nights in Lecce, close to the tippy-tip of “the heel”. (I always like going to the most distant points of a place. What is there about that?)
After Puglia, I’ll train up along the Adriatic sea coast to Le Marché, and stay in Marotta for a couple of nights. Swimming pools and the seashore. Ahh.
During this time, I’m leaving my laptop and external harddrive behind. (Gasp!) I’ll be mostly unplugged and “off the grid”. (Double gasp!) But I’m experimenting with an iPad and will see what kind of wifi reception I have and whether I can get online or not. If so, there may be blog posts from the south. If not, there’ll be a loooooong silence.
After this two week flurry, I’ll head back north to Milano and get settled into an apartment for a month. I’ll be back to doing my client work, riding my bike along the canal, AND having twice-weekly tennis lessons!
Time to pack away the computer and zip up the suitcase. I’m off and away.
Given a beautiful, 70-degree, blue-sky, springtime day in Italy, it was a joy to get out on a bike again for a ride along the canal! It’s been 9 months, and I’ve missed it. That ride, and being on two wheels, invigorates me and makes me feel so alive. And I love the still and vast farm fields in contrast to the intensity of the city’s stimulation. One provides balance to the other.
The red poppies are blooming here and there along the canalside stone fences, and the rapeseed is sporadic, not filling the fields as it was last year. The distance of the bike path is fragrant with all sorts of blooming things and the cottonwood fluff is thick in the air and on the surface of the canal.
