“How blessed and full of grace are these days, scented by the jasmine vine along the courtyard rail and set to music by songbirds! The hours are, at last, warm embraces with a freshening breeze, and the time is my own to color. How, and why, I have been so gifted as to have this life I am not sure, but I’ve certainly chosen paths not often selected. So I find myself seated in my own secret garden, with my afternoon coffee resting on my little table made of two stacked stones. All is precisely right.”
What rain in the night! The raindrops must have been a half inch apart and hurled at the ground with such velocity! And I haven’t heard thunder, or seen lightning like that since living in the midwest 40 years ago. I had my “tapparelle” – shutters – down, but my windows open so the freshening air rushed through the slats briskly.
My courtyard plants got their thirst quenched, but this morning my neighbor’s hydrangeas seem a bit battered from the pummeling. That was quite a storm.
I was sitting in my room typing today and heard “snip, snip, snip.” I looked out my window into the little private courtyards to see a woman in her 60s, trimming in her garden which neighbors mine. I said “buongiorno”, and we started politely talking.
We exchanged names, and after chatting a little bit, I asked Enrica if I could take her photo. She was shy about being photographed, but agreed. She stood back in her garden demure and reserved.
When I showed her the pictures on the back screen of my camera, she lit up. “Oh, one of those modern cameras!”
Everything changed. She came over to my windowsill and we talked for half an hour about Milano, language, life, patterns, long time friendships, neighbors, gardens, etc. She became animated and lively (and didn’t realize that my camera, perched on the window sill with my finger on the button, was still going). She mentioned that she and another in the complex had mentioned “the blonde woman” that was living here.
She offered that if ever need anything I could come next door and borrow it from her. “But if you need an onion, don’t bother. I don’t cook.”
Enrica is so expressive!
I LOVE being able to speak the language and have spontaneous encounters like this. It thrills me so much! I’ll invite her over for coffee some time…
Pope Benedict XVI arrived in Milano yesterday for an evening greeting to the citizens that welcomed him at the Piazza del Duomo (Milano’s central cathedral). The event had slipped my mind, so I didn’t make it, but heard the huge piazza had been filled with thousands of people.
This morning though, I got up early, took the subway into the center of town, rose up into the piazza, and found enough space to squeeze into right against the front barricade. I waited, along with countless others, for the Pope’s arrival.
Why did I go? Some of it was morbid curiosity. Some was sociological observation. Italy is 92% Catholic and I am face-to-face with the Church’s presence, literally, at every turn here. Going to see the Pope was like going to see any other festival or holiday event particular to this country. I went because it would, perhaps, inform me about Italy and her people.
Also, I was raised Catholic, but haven’t followed Catholicism for decades. Still, it’s part of my history and I have family and friends for whom it remains vital.
Of the last 4 years, I have spent an accumulated near-2 years here in Italy. And in these 2 years, I have been to mass and in church more than in all the last 30 years combined. For one, it has seemed a part of the “Italian Experience”. Secondly, I’ve often stepped into a church to shoot photos, and have found myself at the beginning or in the middle of mass, so I stayed. And thirdly, there’s something satiating about the ritual, symbology, artistry and essence of spirituality that speaks to me.
But I can no longer abide by the Catholic Church’s teachings, leadership or system. I feel too much conflict with the Church to be a “good Catholic girl” ever again. There are too many things that amount to an affront to me and to those I love.
Granted, my Catholic upbringing is part of what formed who I am today, and of course that influence will always remain. But anymore, I think that I approach spirituality much like the way I cook: I don’t follow any recipes, and I throw a little of everything into the pot. So Catholicism is but one of the many spices in the soup of who I am.
– – –
I stood for a couple hours at the edge of a crowd of thousands waiting for the Pope to arrive. The church was full-to-the-brim with local “religious”: priests (of all titles and levels) and nuns. The public was not allowed in, but could view events inside the Duomo on two large video displays set up on the piazza. As the 10:00 a.m. arrival time neared, the crowd grew larger and more anxious. A helicopter circled overhead. Security personnel, in chic Italian suits, milled around, and volunteers bridged the space between the crowd and the Pope’s planned path.
When the Pope-mobile first came into view, the crowd erupted in cheers and exclamations of wild adoration, screaming all around me: “Viva il Papa!” “Ciao, Papa!” Pope Benedict rode behind bullet-proof glass in an elevated enclosure on a custom vehicle. Security was tight around him. He was driven to the main door of the Duomo, slipped out of his car and right into the church.
From that moment, we were left with only the large video display shot from inside Milano’s Duomo, showing us the Pope’s every move. The greatest disappointment to all – and it truly nearly caused a riot – was that there was no audio with the video! You should have heard the people outside yelling! Elderly, missing perhaps their only opportunity to hear the Pope, were outraged and flashed every classic Italian gesture you’ve ever heard about. The young, all-so-accustomed to the wonders of technology, were disbelieving that they were given visuals with no sound. These rumblings went on for close to half an hour as we all watched the Pope’s silent pantomimes.
As I gaped at this carefully-ushered man of 85 years, who took very few steps unaided, whose every motion was tended to, I thought, “THIS is the man leading 6.5 billion Catholics?!” Figuring that half the population is female, THIS man is, therefore, guiding decisions that tangibly affect the lives of 3.25 billion women! What does he know about families and parenting?! What does he know about decisions women face every day that dramatically affect their own health and well-being, and that of those around them?! I was incredulous and felt all the more distant from the Church.
So, the event WAS eye-opening for me. I was closely surrounded by people that felt a fervent ardor for Pope Benedict and the Catholic Church. And yet I left feeling all the more disconnected.
My late mother, a very devout Catholic herself, once told me that “all roads lead to Tacoma”. It was her way of saying that the eclectic, spiritual soup that I am is OK with her. Perhaps we would have had a rousing discussion today after watching Benedict ride away in his Pope-mobile. And perhaps her comments would have happily surprised me; she had become quite vocal and imperative about change at the parish level in the years before she died. We may have agreed on more things than I realize.
– – –
Just like in the “May Procession” as a little kid (always the shortest, so placed at the front of the line), and pressed against the barricade by thousands of people, all I could do was grab skewed shots of the large video displays off to the side. I haven’t bothered to straighten and fuss with them, but you’ll get the gist.
(Click on the individual photos to see a larger view of each one.)
Milano’s Duomo announced the arrival of Papa Benedetto XVI – Pope Benedict.
The crowd held people of all ages, anxious for the Pope’s arrival. The Galleria, “cathedral to consumerism”, was in the background, adjacent to the Duomo, Milano’s real cathedral.
On the video, we watched an image of ourselves filling the piazza.
Inside the Duomo, the Cathedral, priests and nuns awaited the Pope.
The entry procession began.
Like “regalia” of any culture, the Catholic Church has its “uniforms” that communicate rank and affiliation.
Celebrating the “Festa della Republica”, tricolore flags were plentiful. The security helicopter is just visible to the left of one flag.
The crowds erupted in cheers when the Pope-mobile first appeared.
Security was tight around Pope Benedict’s vehicle.
The Pope set foot into the Duomo and soon began greeting and blessing people.
The cathedral was packed with priests and nuns, and a few non-religious.
The advance-procession led ahead of the Pope.
Pope Benedict’s hand was always raised in blessing.
He did not walk down the central aisle of the church. He was pushed in a rolling cart.
Please tell me they didn’t really segregate nuns to one side of the church!
The procession of blessings continued.
The Pope’s every move was well tended to.
Milano’s Duomo is a grand, awe-inspiring enclosure.
The crowd watched as Benedict prayed… without sound.
This is the altar in the Duomo. The floor is all inlaid stone of black, red and white. Pope Benedict is seated up and to the left in the photo.
Dressed and singing.
Assisted even in his praying.
The Pope addressed the congregation in the church, silent to the thousands outside.
After a brief visit to the crypts, the Pope emerged and exited the church, thrilling the crowd.
This moment was certainly a highlight in the lives of many.
Here is a video clip of Pope Benedict XVI riding in his vehicle in front of the huge crowd.
In the “Vatican Player”, click on the TV tab, then “video news”, then “Sat, 6/2/12” to see videos of the day’s events. http://www.vatican.va/video/index.html
As it turned out just by chance, my dish of gelato was my nod to Italy.
Today is June 2, a holiday celebrating the formation of the Republic of Italy in 1946. The Italian flag is referred to as the “Tricolore”, three colors. Whereas, in the U.S. we say “red, white and blue”, in Italy, they do NOT say “red, white and green”! Their colors are always listed “green, white and red”.
So, here’s to the “pistacchio, limone e mirtilli di bosco”, the pistachio, lemon and blueberry!
Granted, the video’s not great; it’s not intended to be. Just close your eyes and listen to the sounds I hear in my courtyard, most of all, that wonderful, lyrical birdsong that thrills me. There can be sirens and trucks, and conversations between canalside revelers. Kids can be playing nearby, and construction workers finishing their day. But above it all, I hear the birds.
(I’m hoping that someone with European birding experience will listen to this and tell me who’s singing.)
READ THE UPDATE BELOW THAT FOLLOWS THE VIDEO.
June 2, 2012
Walking along a side street in Milano today, I heard “my bird” loud and clear. At that moment, an older woman walked by, then I thought, “this is my chance!”
“Scusi, signora”… “Excuse me, but do you know that name of that bird singing way up there?”
“Usignuolo“, she said.
I thanked her. Wrote down the name she gave me, came home and looked it up.
English: the Nightingale! Latin: Luscinia megarhynchos Italian: Usignuolo
Here’s a page from Birdsongs of Italy and their listing for the Usignuolo. Listen to calls 1 & 3. They sound most like the birds I here around my courtyard.
(These recordings are close, and I’m unsure whether they’re quite right or not. But it’s the most I have to go on right now.)
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.
Brrr! It’s been chilly in Milano much of the last week. For late May, temperatures in the low 50s are quite a surprise. I hadn’t expected it, so I didn’t even pack full length pants! Sitting here in my house trying to get my work done, my fingers were cold, my toes were cold, my ankles were cold. I had to run out and get some cheap, long leggings, and a t-shirt, and then I layered them all together under my calf-length pants and other tops. Brrr!
How does one get warm when it’s unseasonably cold in Milano? One cold day I made a pot of chicken soup, with veggies from the street market.
Better yet, another cold night I went to the nearby osteria along the Naviglio Pavese Canal and watched the soccer game with the locals. (Napoli vs. Torino Juventus) The wood-fired pizza oven warmed the room. Add to that the crowd of soccer fans and a glass of red wine and my fingers finally warmed up for the first time in days.
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.
After sitting inside all day working, by 6:00 p.m. I had to get out and take a walk from here to my beloved Duomo. I had arrived late Tuesday evening, spent Wednesday getting settled and hadn’t yet been to my favorite landmark in town, 2 miles away from my apartment. I must always go to the Duomo, do a pilgrimage to the great cathedral.
I stretched the 4 mile loop out into just under 4 hours, shooting 200 photos along the way, catching sights that amused my eye. Come take a stroll with me and see what I see.
A Milanese fashion faux pas. I really think this woman needs a good friend to pull her aside and suggest a different outfit. Those are actually leggings printed to look like denim with funky strap markings. Very odd.
Milan has an intense cover of graffiti all over town, some of it quite artfully rendered. When is it acceptable, and to whom? When is it ugly defacing of property?
I find frequent evidence of fascination with Native American representations here in Italy.
These are the locking mechanisms operated by my funky-looking house keys.
Retro Levi’s signage.
One of Milano’s MANY bike-share stations! Swipe your debit/credit card and ride.
I specifically timed my walk to catch the early evening sun on the west-facing facade of the Duomo. (Note the red banner over the main door announcing the Pope’s visit coming up on June 3.)
The Piazza del Duomo is the “living room of the city” of Milano. This is the place to meet friends, people-watch, riot and celebrate. This piazza is the city’s heart.
The Duomo, (building commenced in the 1300s), has something like 4000 sculptures all over it, including this disemboweled man. Macabre! (And the point is?)
Yesterday was pretty chilly, so a warmer day today brought everyone outside onto the sidewalks and piazzas. The city was teeming with nightlife. Some bars had a couple hundred people outside, standing around with drinks and cigarettes.
All over Italy you’ll find freely running water fountains from which you can drink and/or fill your water bottle. (Though I never have.)
The Galleria is smack next to the Duomo: two adjacent cathedrals, one to consumerism, the other to religion and spiritual foundations (among other things, too many to discuss in a photo caption.) At the intersection of the Galleria, under the dome, is a Louis Vuitton store, Prada store and a McDonald’s!
The Galleria floor is richly embedded with mosaic. Last year I saw some men working to replace stone pieces, repairing the mosaic. I politely asked one of the men if I could have a square of black marble and he gave me one! (How many people have a piece of the Galleria floor?)
Part of the Louis Vuitton window display in the Galleria. (Milano has tremendous window displays!)
Of course I had to stop and pay Leonardo a visit. (He lived in Milano for many years and made many contributions to the city in the realm of not only art, but science, architecture, science and engineering.)
This one took me a minute… I did a double-take.
Since I often sign my letters with an “M”, I like these Metro signs scattered around town.
Not the best choice for a small meal, but at 8:00 p.m., with low-blood sugar and in the vicinity of the Duomo, I just needed food. For 5,40 Euro, I got one slice and a bottle of sparkling water. If I could have kept walking a bit, away from the tourist hub, I could have paid 8,00 Euro and had an apperitivo buffet and a glass of wine instead.
Piazza San Lorenzo Maggiore is illuminated and offering a place to sit with friends.
Here’s the same Piazza, earlier in the evening as people relaxed after work.
The street name is “Corso di Porta Ticinese”, which someone has translated with a rebus puzzle: the door is “Porta” + the letter “T”, pronounced “Ti” (tee) + plus the caricature of a Chinese man, which is “Cinese” in Italian. There’s an additional sign which I’d like to know the story behind: “The Way of Irony and Apathy”.
The Piazza XXIV Maggio is about 3 blocks from my home, at the junction of Corso di Porta Ticinese and Corso San Gottardo, where the Naviglio Grande and Naviglio Pavese (canals) meet. Year 1815.
Bike repair and sales shop late at night, at Piazza XXIV Maggio.
Fruit Map of Italy. (I’ve been to all of the places shown.)
