On to Milano: Bright Lights, Big City

Musings

It has been said that home is where the heart is. And yet, we put our “heart” into many things: our work, our family, our hobbies, our faith, our friends, perhaps even our travels. Our heart may long for these things in different ways and at different times. Our feelings of affection may ebb and flow in this regard but is our heart more steadfast?

Here, so far from what we call home, it is easy to see, and feel, the difference. The awe and wander of this journey sit on top of the foundation of home. They rest upon the deeper roots underpinning and reinforcing our ability to go forth into the broader world knowing there is such a place as home – a world of comfort and familiarity – to which we might return.

But that only scratches the surface. The place we call home is what it is because our heart is ultimately attached to those people who make it the familiar, safe, and comforting, harbor that it is. The farther away awe go, the more we long for that which we left behind. Long ago, Dorothy closed her eyes and proclaimed, “There’s no place like home.” No Toto, we are no longer in Kansas…I mean, Indiana, and there is still no place like home.

Culture Shock

Yesterday morning, all worked to plan. We awoke to a sleepy Venice, eyes heavy with rain, cold, and cloud. Even the mosquitos who were enjoying an “Indian Summer” along the canals felt their annoying little selves crimped by the crisp, cool, wetness, of a more normal Venetian October morning. Our water taxi appeared right on time, took us for a lovely last spin around Venice, and we found ourselves back at Venice San Lucia Terminale. This time, we anticipated the baggage grabbers and waved them off in time to carry our own luggage the 50 feet into the station. 25 Euros saved is 25 Euros earned.

Our 2.5 hour ride to Milano was mostly uneventful, although we did feel badly for the American family who came aboard thinking they were on a train to Rome. I get it, the train stations are a bit overwhelming and confusion can easily set-in if one hasn’t figured out the system of train and platform numbering on the big boards overhead.

Now in the north, but not yet to the mountains, the countryside was pretty flat. We had numerous stops along the way and they all seemed a bit more urban as we got closer to Milan. Rolling into Milan, it was clear that we were in a major metro area (1.3 million people in the city and over 4 million in the metro area). Stepping off the train in Stazione di Milano Centrale we found ourselves in a whirlwind of humanity in all of its frenzy. The flow of bodies moving within this terminal was astounding. Walking along the platform with the masses, I looked up and noticed massive concrete pillars and archways leading into the main terminal – the large Art Deco-looking eagles carved into the edifice looked like something from the Capital in The Hunger Games.

As the highest volume train station in the EU, Milano Centrale is literally the Grand Central Station of Europe. The massive terminal is three levels high (we came in at the top). We were swept with the herd into the outer hall and down three large rampways past Five Guys, KFC, and McDonalds, and then ushered outside to the waiting Taxi line. Uscita (exits) signs pointed toward buses, other trains, a subway (the Milan Metro), and multiple points of egress from the station. On the street, our senses were overwhelmed with the sound and energy of a bustling city that felt more like Manhattan than anything else we have seen.

As the Taxi moved away from the terminal, I looked over at the massive structure, even more evocative of The Hunger Games on the outside. The terminal was built in “Fascist” design in 1931 and meant to evoke the great power of the central government; Hitler and Mussolini came to mind and I wondered at the stories of this Piazza Duca d’Aosta, its history, and 120 million passengers per year.

Historic Center

We had a fifteen minute cab ride into Milano’s historic center. However, this historic center was nothing like anything else we had seen. Our apartment is in a high rise building and nestled among Milano’s version of 5th Avenue – every possible fashion label, including our own Under Armor, has a presence. Sporting my Under Armor athletic pants and pullover, I entered the world of Milano Fashionistas, however unknowingly. Buses, people, taxis, and an electric train that runs right up to the sidewalk (do not stumble as the massive railway wheels are inches from the steady flow of pedestrians) marked the moment and added to the frenzy.

The historic center holds the Duomo and the Basilica of St. Ambrose (more on them tomorrow) but it is clearly tourist central and a fascinating contrast to the walled villages of Tuscany and the old-Europe feel of Venice. Our apartment is actually quite modern, and other than figuring out how to operate a Moka Pot or the mysterious bidet, similar to what we would find at home.

It was now about 4:30pm and we realized we had not eaten all day so job-one was to find some food and perhaps an aperitivo. I was able to find a rooftop restaurant (that was actually open which can sometimes be a challenge) just around the corner. If you are ever in Milan, The Dome Milano is fun because it is 8 stories above the chaos below, serves mini cheeseburgers, fries, and a club sandwich, and offers a full bar. Totally built for the tourists, expensive, and perfect for the occasion. Sitting on the covered terrace, we could see the top of the Duomo, Milan’s skyline, and all the action on the street. Perfetto!

Best Yet

Mom and Dad wanted to go to the market to pick up some things for the apartment (we are here until Sunday) so Sally and I wandered around the shops…well, actually these aren’t shops, they are hard-core stores meant for shoppers. Tommy Hilfiger, Under Armor, Vans, North Face, etc. American chic was on full display though there appear to be some different styles. We passed Sophia Loren’s Restaurant (which felt simultaneously nostalgic and exotic) and enjoyed the people-watching. The continuing drizzle did little to dampen the flow of humanity or the energy of the area.

We had made 7pm reservations at Al Mercante Ristorante (yes, we’re still eating), a Silvia recommendation that did not disappoint. This was by far the best meal we have had since arriving in Italy (sorry Mom and Dad, you missed it!). The restaurant itself was upscale in decor and finish, service was outstanding, and the food was fantastico! We started with a ham and mozzarella appetizer – they somehow managed to make thin sliced ham and a mozzarella ball upscale and tasty in an elegant way. We’ve had lots of ravioli but the creamy sauce and walnuts took it to a different level and my lightly breaded and fried veal (is there such a thing as a bone-in, Cowboy Veal cut?) was delightful. Chianti Classico Riserva – we’re now totally loyal to the Black Rooster label – accompanied dinner. Dessert was gelato on some kind of apple cake and a decaf macchiato to close it out. Hungry yet?

2nd to Last Friday

Today we will visit the Duomo and explore historic Milano on our own. A week from today, we’ll be finishing our adventure and preparing for the journey home. There is that word again: home. Now three weeks in, we feel it acutely. We miss our grandchildren. We miss our kids. We miss our dog, our bed, our street, our fall colors, our harvested fields, our friends…our life in that place and with those people we call home. It turns out that our hearts may journey with us but they will always long for, and love, all that is home.