With just a few days left, I headed back to Milan to actually see a bit of the city, outside the impressive train station. Heids and mine’s flights were virtually identical times, but unfortunately in different terminals. So I settled into my lounge life while she sat with the masses.
Spain has good lounges from what I can tell. Barcelona’s says “Up with cava”.
Milan fairly drips money.
I know northern Europe tends to be wealthier and more expensive, but I guess I didn’t realize it extended to northern Italy. And it feels unlike anywhere else I’ve been in Italy. Here’s there is less antiquity, more intentionality. Here I think someone has a plan. Which is perhaps odd, since Milan was bfounding 600 BC by a Celtic tribe and conquered by the Romans in 222 BC and was actually an important city to them. So it seems like it would have every right to some old shit. But basically just got conquered and destroyed a lot.
I learned that you can’t talk about Milan without talking about the House of Sforza. This is basically the Medicis of Milan, but no, I’d never heard of them before. The family ruled the Duchy of Milan from the mid 1400s until 1535, bringing a respite from the conquering and a time of prospertity and technological advancement. During their rule, they rebuilt/remodeled what is now the Sforza Castle, developed mulberry production and the silk industry, and were patrons to the arts, most famously attracting Leonardo Da Vinci. They modernized roads, tax systems, and agriculture.
Milan has continued to be Italy’s economic and industrial powerhouse and it does result in a very different vibe than other parts of Italy I’ve been to.
I arrived in the afternoon on Friday and left Sunday mid day. But I was very successful in packing that time.
It was an easy, though kinda long, train ride into the city and then my airbnb was just a few blocks away from the Milano Cadorna train station in the Magenta neighborhood of the city. Though, I gotta say, my well worn suitcase was not loving the bumpy journey and I honestly had to trash it when I got home.
This was definitely a central neighborhood, but a tree lined, residential central, with broad sidewalks, cafes, and restaurants. The apartment was a huge one bedroom with parquet floors and romantically draped windows that opened to balconettes.
This was an interesting trip in that I’d had so many places to research and plan for that honestly Milan got the short end of the stick and it was only part way through my trip that I started to turn my attention to the city.
So that afternoon I had no agenda, I just wandered my neighborhood and found a place that had pasta. More specifically spaghetti alla nerano.
Made famous by Stanley Tucci, I’d actually had this one before as a favorite dish of my pasta making guru friend Alex. I’d even made it many times as an excellent way to use a bunch of zucchini as they threaten to overwhelm you in their prolific glory. But at the heart of this dish is a very specific provolone, provolone del Monaco. This is distinct in the world of provolones and difficult to find in the US. It is rich, sweet & buttery with an almost spicy finish. This is your nonna’s provolone. So even though I was in the wrong region of Italy for the dish, (shout out to the Amalfi coast) I was excited to try it.
My walk to the restaurant took me through a park, that happened to have a castle. As it turned, I would pass Sforza castle pretty much time I went every where, but this first time I came upon it unawares. Sempione Park surrounds the castle and has been green spaces and manicured walkways. There are lot of runners in Milan.
I meandered through the park, feeling both ready to be home, sad to be leaving, and so surprised that I was still in Italy. I headed through the northwestern end of the park that opens into a lovely little circle of commerce. And they have a trolley that’s out of like the 1920s, complete with wood paneling.
There I found my pasta place. Now, the other thing about this dish is that there is variety of ways to put it together, but at it’s core, you fry thin zucchini slices (younger and smaller is better here). Some get set aside, some get added to the sauce. The sauce is a combo of pasta water, garlic, cheese, and the zuchinnis. It’s then topped with the remaining zucchini, more cheese and basil. It’s simple and delicious.
I think I like mine better… but I also think I want the cheese.
The next day I had a tour booked to see the Last Supper, the city center, and the Duomo di Milano. The light the apartment was really lovely and while I woke up early I had a cozy read in bed before deciding to be up/up. Then I went in search of something other than a Keurig.
The Last Supper is kinda a weird experience. You get a ticket to see that, there is no entry to the rest of the church. Nor is there a museum or really anything else. It was painted in the dining hall of the convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie in the 1490s as part of an effort by the Sforza family to renovate churches. And man has this painting had a go of it. Part number was due to the medium. Da Vinci preferred to work with oil, work slowly and make changes, which the traditional fresco style of murals does not permit. So he chose to use tempera and oil, which allowed him to achieve those goals, but also made the painting more vulnerable to the elements, particularly humidity. And it was painted on a thin exterior in the room next to the kitchen. So it kinda had problems from the start. In the 1700s someone had the clever idea of covering it with a curtain to protect it, but this only served to trap moisture. Then Napoleon captured the city and the church was used as an armory and a stable. Then in 1800 it became a prison. Numerous attempts were made to restore, including one disasterous attempt to remove the “fresco” which was of course not a fresco. In the early 1900s science and art were applied to begin to restore. Then the freaking building was bombed during WWII.
The painting actually wasn’t significantly damaged.
The 1980s saw a huge change. The refectory was convereted to a sealed and climate controlled environment and extensive studies were done to determine the painting’s original form. Twenty one years later it was returned to display. A limited number of people are allowed, I think there was maybe 25 people in there, and you’re allowed in for 15 minutes. It is a bit nice to not feel crowded.
It’s essentially just a large mostly white room. On one side is the Last Supper. On the other is The Crucifixion, a fresco by Renaissance artist Giovanni Donato da Montorfano. It’s a funny thing to think about authenticity while looking at the Last Supper. It’s been restored so many types with so many different tools, artists, theories of restoration, and across centuries. Is this still it? What version of this painting do I even know? It’s one we all know and grow up with, and most certainly it looked like that, but does it look as did when Da Vinci finished? Is the idea more importantly than the fact? Or rather, where is that tipping point?
I actually think it would not stand out to me in a collection. But here you’ve gone through multiple special doors to control the temp and humitidy. There’s nothing else in this space other than these two wall paintings, there’s nothing to look at, it’s an austere room. It’s imbued with a certain import. It got me thinking about the David, I believe I’d stop and notice him wherever he was, but maybe I wouldn’t. I certainly don’t have confidence in my knowing “good art”, but I buy what I like and to me, it’s good. Art philosophy is a slippery slope and perhaps one of the most manageable examples of the distinction between Platonic and Aristotelian thought, it is or isn’t good vs what is good for?
The narrow streets in Milan aren’t as narrow, the buildings are shorter and brighter, the sidewalks clean and crisp with a mathematical evenness. And as you get toward the center, you remember this is a fashion capital passing designer store after designer store. And these are not “someone might actually wear that” designer stores, these are straight off the runway designs. I just kept thinking “ok, if one does not have an invite to the Met Gala, what does one do with this?”
We passed through the narrow streets into the plaza that houses La Scala. So I literally know 2 opera houses and La Scala is one of them. I’d actually checked earlier to see if there was a way to get opera tickets, cause indeed Verdi’s Nebucodonosor was being performed while I was there. Tickets were nearly 300 euro, which was more than I was willing to invest.
The opera house sits on Piazza della Scala which connects to the Piazza del Duomo (naming conventions are a little lackluster here) via the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II (guess who built it?), the oldest shopping mall in Italy. Though to call it a shopping mall seems to undermine it’s existence.
It’s enormous with glass topped hallways spreading out in 4 wings of high end fanciness. Mostly it’s just jam packed with folks taking pictures. The floors are intricate tile work with patterns, the seal of the duchy of Milan and other imagery. And it’s all surrounded by designer stores.
You spill out into the Piazza del Duomo.
The cathedral’s construction began around 1386 and was completed in 1965, so it’s been an economic win for awhile. It replaced ancient basilicas in the area and was designed in the height of the Gothic era, however the facade wasn’t even embarked upon until late 1700s. Even Napoleon had some skin in this game having captured the city and ordering the completion of the facade to be finished in 1805 with guarantees that the French crown would provide reimbursement. This spurred the work to be completed with in 7 years. They’re still waiting on the reimbursement.
As a result of the centuries of work and over 75 main architects/engineers, the building is a collection of styles influenced by the period in which that section of the church was completed. Some find it off putting, some find it beautiful, it would be really difficult not to find it impressive. It’s especially famed for the 3 enormous stain glass windows at the back of the church that depict stories of the Bible. It was both crowded and not a particularly spacious area to begin with, so you’re getting a gist more than a good pic.
And it is a unequivocally beautiful church, meant to awe and inspire one with God’s righteous power. It’s intricate, enormous, and chockful of tapestries, stained glass, statues, organs, and pictures. But I think Sagrada Familia spoke more to his grace and that message resonates much more with me.
The tour concluded there and I booked it back over to La Scala cause I’d read about a way to get last minute “standing” tickets for 10 euro.
The process by which one does this is archaic. First you go into a room and register with La Scala on a computer that no one seems to know how to use, so also with the help of a lovely woman. She then tells you to remember your number and go around the side of the building. I was assuming this would be in an office. But no, you go to a gaggle of older ladies planted in the portico on folding chairs who write your name down next to your number. You are then told to come back at 6.
I had an aperol spritz, a bruschetta, and was introduced to the concept of a table fee (yup 4 euro for the table) and then headed back over.
A crowd had formed. One of the women from earlier was there. She shouted out numbers in Italian which then rippled through the crowd in a variety of languages both cause diversity and cause she wasn’t very loud. Every 15 or 20 people she’d lead away and then return to call out more numbers.
This went on and on and on, until at last she called my number 85 and I went to the line gathered. She led us back over to the original office and we were handed off to another of the older ladies and led downstairs where were able to buy our tickets for the 8pm show. I believe everyone was able to get tickets.
The process was kinda amazing to watch and I was grateful to have experienced it as you rather suspect it will not stand the test of much more time at least. However, it did present me with another dilemma. I had reservations at Confine, the #4 pizza place in the world at 7:30pm and no longer had enough time to safely go change and get back for the reservation, additionally it was gonna cut it close with the performance. I opted to head over there early and see if I could get in a bit earlier and just deal with my wardrobe.
They were lovely and gracious and definitely going after a Michelin star. They opened at 7 and seated me as soon as they opened. They had my name, the silverware sat on a small metal bar to avoid touching the table. I had in my infinite wisdom chosen a tasting menu, which I’d also forgotten. In the interest of time, I probably would’ve abandoned this notion, but that was not an option. I did let them know about my opera tickets and they worked hard to try to get all my food out.
This was really incredible pizza. I think may have actually left the land of pizza and just been something else. I opted for the Signature tasting menu, mostly because it was smaller. The menu started with a small tube, fried into place, of cacio e pepe topped with tuna tartar and caviar. So this is what we’re working with. Then there was a cream and zucchini & cheese pizza topped with zucchini blossoms & chips, balsamic and dots of mint aioli. This was the most beautiful pizza.
Next up was a simple slice with tomato and eggplant sauce, a ton of super nutty parm, basil and olive oil.
The last slice I was able to cram in, actually came in a box and I ate it while running to the opera through the streets of Milan. I felt terribly romantic.
This one featured a cheese sauce base with slightly sweet escarole, sausage, parm, and olive oil. It was actually kinda difficult to eat on the move.
I did feel a little bit like I should’ve gotten a discount on the table fee.
Despite my running (and arriving with exactly one minute to spare), I was told that the doors had closed and I could watch from the 2nd gallery. So I meandered on up.
La Scala is what you picture when you picture the inside of an opera house (incidentally it’s also what I picture for where Lincoln was shot, which I didn’t fully realize). Thick red curtains with gold trim, gilded boxes in tiers, a huge chandelier.
At first I couldn’t find a seat and just stood, but finally snagged an empty one at the very end close to the stage, but up above the lighting. This was not an excellent view, but I could lean forward from my seat and see stage right at least. There is, semi helpfully when you’re leaning forward, a screen on the back of each seat that shows the word being sung in the language of your choice.
Nabucco is the biblical story chronicalling the Babylonian king Nebuchadenezzar’s conquest of Jerusalem and the exile of the Israelites. Not being super familiar with the bible, I can’t speak to how well it followed the story there, but I lean toward not so much.
There is a high priest comforting his people. There’s some dude named Ismaele who both of the Kings’ daughters’ love, but he only returns the love of Fenena. When the Babylon army threatens to burn and sack the church, the High Priest threatens to kill Fenana. Ismaele intervenes, saving Fenana, but condemning the church and is cast out as a traitor from the Isaraelites. Meanwhile, Abigaille, the other daughter, has uncovered a secret- she is not really the daughter of the king, but of slaves!
Nebuchadenezzar has gone forth to conquer more land, leaving Fenana is regent, leading to tension between the sisters. A rumor circulates that the King has died and Abigaille seizes the throne. The king reappears discovers that Fenana has embraced the Jewish faith, repeats a conviction of his own divinity and God strikes him with madness. Cue intermission.
After intermission I went and found my proper seat. It was in gallery 1, so a bit lower, but unfortunately in the backrow of seats and I began to understand the concept of standing seats. Even the front row is high enough above that the sides have to lean forward to get a good view.
From the back you stand and hang on to a bar overhead and lean more or less over the person in front of you (it’s very helpful if they are also leaning) to catch a partial view.
Acts 3 & 4.
Abigaille is now in firm command of the kingdom and intends to kill all the prisoners and Fenana. The king, still out of his mind, is tricked into signing the warrants for these deaths. Wracked by grief when he realizes what he has done, he prays to the Hebrew god in desperation. It works. Soldiers support him, Fenana and the Israelites are saved. Abigaille poisons herself and begs for forgiveness.
The opera was written by Verdi in 1841 and its opening performances were in La Scala the same year. I’m not an astute judge of these things, but it was lovely.
I walked home in the dark. Milan feels very safe at night.
The next morning I had enough time for breakfast before getting out of the airbnb. So I walked over to a place called Debbie’s that was highly recommended by the internet.
I walked through the park and finally found a cat in the moat. I’d been told that it’s where all the strays hang out. The day was already heating up, even though it was barely 9am. Nonetheless, I knew that next I’d be spending about 3 hours sitting at the airport before about 14 hours of sitting on planes, so I was grateful to get some movement in.
Debbie’s was a cute little place. Mostly with outdoor seating extending into the street. The inside is packed. You order inside from the case and then find a seat. I’d seen this menuless model before and it leaves me a little daunted in languages I don’t speak, but it worked (mostly cause I just pointed). I got a sammie, a juice and a latte. And sorry, I ate part of the sammie before remembering to take a picture.
Then I headed back and packed up.
I think I could’ve happily just stayed.
However, the cleaning man was terrifyingly prompt, like showed up literally 1 minute after I was supposed to have left while I was peeing. So I scurried on out and lugged myself and my luggage to the Cadorna train station and bought a 15 euro ticket for the Malprensa express to the airport. So initially this seemed like a lot to me for a train ride, but then I looked at the cost of an Uber….
Getting through the airport and to the lounge was a breeze. And other than being restless and super ready for the plane from Madrid to touch down in Mexico (it’s almost 12 hours direct), everything went smoothly.
And here I am back in Mexico, having not eaten any tacos in Milan.
Year One Project 
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