Pinacoteca di Brera

On Wednesday we visited the Brera Museum called Pinacoteca di Brera. There are a lot of old Italian paintings related to the church, as well as a small portion of early 20th century paintings, and other paintings following the Renaissance. 

Two paintings especially stood out for me, both depicting Jesus at a supper. One was "Supper at Emmaus" by Caravaggio. The dramatic lighting effects that he implemented (called chiaroscuro, where there seems to be one light source creating dramatic contrasts in the image) lends much gravitas to most of his works. Another painting that stood out was Peter Paul Ruebens painting of the last supper. This one contrasted with the Leonardo version that I saw the previous day. One interesting element that I enjoyed is that Judas, Jesus' betrayer, is looking out at the viewer, almost as if he is the focal point of the painting.

Other interesting paintings I saw were of St. Francis by one of my favorite painters, Dominico Theotocopolous, otherwise known as El Greco. His paintings stand out for me because he had a very unique style that cannot be placed in one school or another. That said, this small painting was not one of his finer ones. Although I would have liked to buy a postcard of the painting, the museum did not have one, and even in their souvenir book, it was not included.

One final painting that stopped me for a few moments was a painting of St. Jerome by Jusepe Ribera, a painter I had never heard of. It was in the same room as the Caravaggio, perhaps because it helps illustrate the influence that Caravaggio and his chiaroscuro style had on other painters. However, the image of a frail old man staring at a skull he holds in his hands forced me to sit down and stare at the painting for several minutes.

Another side effect of going to an art museum with many different people is that many different opinions are heard about good art and bad art, and what art is supposed to be, and what artists are supposed to be doing. I find it humorous that non-artists would have such strong opinions on what another person's job is, especially never having performed that job themselves. I also find it humorous when people offer their strong opinions as if they were the last word on the subject, especially when it comes to modern art, and with claims that this period of art was far superior to that period, and the peaks and valleys that the evaluative quality of art has experienced through history. It seems to me that for any proper evaluation of art, or anything for that matter, one must look at the work in context of its place and its creation in history and location and social context. Rarely do I hear people talk about this; instead, it is "this looks ugly," or "This looks beautiful." Surely those are some of the reasons to enjoy art, and if one only focuses on what he finds beautiful, he may have a wonderful life. However, there is also so much more to explore within paintings, music, architecture, sculpture, and everything else. And so it seems to me that when I ask more questions about this or that, or explore curiosities a little deeper, there may be much more that can be enjoyed. 

Leonardo's "Last Supper"

We returned to Milan after spending the weekend in Tuscany. The drive was long and I was lucky enough to get the driver's side back-seat while driving north in the afternoon. This means that the sun was beating down on me the whole trip. It would have been cooler to drive with the windows open, but the air conditioner was on, and that seemed to suit the people in the front seats just fine. After refusing to for some time, I resorted to wearing a big brimmed woman's hat that blocked the sun very well. In any case, we got to Milan in one piece after a three and a half hour car ride.

Recovering from that ride, we didn't do anything on Monday. But on Tuesday we went to a church called Santa Maria delle Grazie. The church is certainly interesting enough, but the crown jewel of this church is the "Last Supper" by Leonardo da Vinci. The painting is not in the main church, but rather, is in the old convent. Apparently, during World War II, bombing had destroyed the building, and all the walls fell, except this one. Perhaps this was divine intervention.

They only allow twenty-five people to come into the room at a time, and only for fifteen minutes. The time limit is enough time to look at the "Last Supper" and one other painting on the opposite wall of Christ's crucifixion by a painter whose name I forget, and whose claim to fame just might be to have a the only other painting in the room with the "Last Supper." As I was lead into the room, we stop first in a glass covered space with electronic doors, where twenty-five people fit snugly. We wait there for a few minutes, and then are led into another room just the same. It felt as though we were entering a bank vault.

Having never been here before, I had expectations as to what to I would see, having seen the room and the painting on television shows, or books, or other media. However, when I walked into the room, the painting was bigger, and lower, and closer than I had expected. This had the effect on me of a coming on strong and fast. I sat at a bench and contemplated the painting for a while. I can't remember what I thought, perhaps nothing. Maybe it was just an attitude of meditation that over took me.

They did not allow photos to be taken of the painting, so I have none. I still don't have a cable for my camera, so even if I did take a photo, I would not have been able to post it. That said, I feel justified in offering the photo above from another source. 

Tuscan Vineyard in Bolgheri

(I have misplaced the cable for the camera, so please wait for pictures.)

Today and yesterday my host showed me around the vineyard. There is, indeed, a lot of work that they do. He has a lot of farm land where the grapes grow. The area with the house is pretty big, too. There are two houses, one big, and one small. When I had first come here in 2005, the land owners were living in the big house, and the winemakers had to live in the smaller home Now, the land owners have moved out, and the winemakers live in the bigger space, and the smaller space is left for storage. Even the big house can be divided into two apartments. He and his wife have collected a lot of art and things like this, and their home is decorated very nicely. However, because they are running the business out of the house, clutter can also collect, even though they have a separate office in the home.

In addition to the two houses, there is a lot of space for equipment. There is an unpaved lot where they have to park the tractor, and that sort of stuff. There is another big building that is divided into two. One one side is a lot of storage for wine bottles and cases that are ready to be sold. On the other side are a lot of big machines where they make the wine, helping in the fermentation. They look like big cans of soda. Also, under the big house, they have a lot of room where barrels of wine are stored (it is basically a wine cellar) where the wine gets better with age. They are still building a lot more, too. They need one more building where they will store even more wine that is ready to be sold, and is currently housed at a rented warehouse in a different location.

It would be interesting to learn the business, but it would take up a whole life. When one wants to go into business, there is nothing easy about it, and any free time would have to be devoted to the business. In fact, in the little free time we had here so far, clients came over, and they had to be hosted. A couple from Belgium made an appointment that was forgotten, but as luck would have it, the Belgians arrived before they made their way to go out the door. Later that same night we hosted a client from Switzerland over dinner. Although they were Swiss, they have a summer home in a near-by village. There is always work, and hosting. With two people running the business, and maybe one very important employee, there is a lot of divided responsibilities, and the three of them seem to do everything!

Mont Blanc

Today we travelled to Mont Blanc, also called Monte Bianco, which both mean white mountain. It is the highest point in Europe, and serves as the border between Italy and France. One one side of the mountain sits the Italian town of Courmayeur, and on the other side is the French town of Chamonix. In fact, there is a cable car that connects these two cities by going over the mountain range, and is supposed to offer a beautiful view of the scenery. However, by the time we got there, the cable car was closed because they deemed it unsafe due to high winds. We thought that there might be a chance that they open the cable car again after the winds die down, so we sat down and had lunch, closely watching the trees bending, and hoping that they would sit still for a while. We thought it had calmed down enough, but the people who run the cable car disagreed.

In order to get to the other side, then, we had to drive. It so happens that there is a tunnel that cuts right through the mountain for 11 thousand kilometers. Because of terrible accidents that have happened in the past, there are strict speed limits, and requirements to maintain 150 meters of distance between you and the car in front of you. The drive takes about ten minutes, so it is not so bad. Although I am not claustrophobic, the idea of being in a tunnel like caused a little anxiety, until I considered that on a typical commute in New York, I am in a tunnel for about an hour.

The town of Chamonix was very charming, and even though there were many modern stores and shops, there were enough old style buildings to remind one that he was in a French mountain town. Not being acquainted with this sort of environment, I even caught myself thinking that this place looked like Disneyland; but it is Disneyland that looks like Chamonix.

After checking the cable car on the French end and learning that they wouldn't allow people to ride because of winds either (we thought that maybe the French might be more liberal than the Italians in their evaluation of the winds), we decided to take a train up to see the Mer de Glace glacier. The pictures at the bottom made it look as though it was an amazing site with a glacier that really did look like a sea of glass, but when we arrived, the glacier was very underwhelming. Perhaps it was due to the summer, or even global warming, but most of the ice of the glacier simply looked like dirt, with a small ice floe. The location where the train dropped us off was high above the glacier, and was surrounded by amazing peaks, which made up for the small glacier.

I was inclined to go down to the glacier, and do some exciting mountain hiking, but when we actually saw the people who were already down there, they looked like ants, so it was not as close as I had thought. Plus, I was with people who did not seem so interested to go on a hiking excursion. Next time I will remember to bring my hiking boots and tent. 

Lake Como and Lugano

Today we drove a bit north, to two places. The first was to Lake Como. the lake is shaped like a big inverted Y. There are many villages all around the lake, and while driving around, we stayed near the shore. It seems that many of these villages are situation so that there is not a lot of space to walk along the lake. Where ever there is space along the shore of the lake, someone has built an extravagant house or villa. 

One person who has a villa here is George Clooney. I didn't think that it would be a big deal to see his place, but once we found it, I did feel a short burst of being star struck. There was no one else treating his home like a tourist destination, and I am sure that all the locals are aware of the celebrity status of his home (in fact, in order to maintain peace with the locals, a law was passed against looking at his home for more than five minutes), so I felt a bit embarrassing when I noticed locals walking along the narrow road beside his villa.

A short ride from Lake Como is Switzerland. Not too far into Switzerland is another lake town called Lugano. Because Switzerland is not in the European Union, I was looking forward to getting my passport stamped. Because the border is so commonly traversed, however, the immigration officials don't bother stamping everyone's passport, so I was sad for about a minute.

It turns out that south of the Alps, the mountains that offer a natural division of Switzerland, everyone speaks Italian, and so Lugano seemed like an Italian town, but much more modern, and without much of the historical architecture that a comparable Italian town might have. As a result, Lugano lacked a certain charm I might have expected. One redeeming feature, however, that was not present at Lake Como was development around the lake that allowed tourists to walk along the water. The shops that were in the main town center were dominated by expensive stores, especially those catering to watches. It can be fun to look at watches that cost more than cars. 

Verona Arena Opera

The highlight of the night, and a primary purpose for going to Verona was to see the opera Aida by Giuseppe Verdi. As I had mentioned earlier, there are opera performances in Milan. In fact, arguably the greatest opera house in the world, La Scala, is in Milan. However, one amazing feature of Verona is the ancient Roman arena. It has been a tradition for some time that they perform operas in this arena during the summer. Being in an open space like this, certainly it is does not have the best acoustics, but it is able to present a spectacle not possible in other theaters.

One cannot argue with the music of Verdi, being a master of the operatic form, and the performances by the singers and the conductor and orchestra where wonderful and clear, even in the open air space. The choreographer made use of many dancers and the chorus, and extra performers on the stage to create an amazing show for people like us who were sitting so high in the marble seats of the arena. Because I now produce and direct operas (in addition to composing them), I now watch operas with a different eye, and pay attention to many of the finer details.

One small criticism I have is that there were big breaks in the show that were not intermissions. These breaks were to rearrange the stage for scene changes. Because this arena is not a modern theater, they do not have many of the advantages of stage and set that theaters typically have, and so they had to take their time for scene changes. Perhaps another director would have worked within these limitations differently, and the audience would have (I think) understood that the production would have had to work within these limitations, and would have been understanding when the production did not resemble that of a modern opera house. Another curious feature that I was not accustomed to was that there would be a break after each aria for the singers to bow and show appreciation to the audience. Perhaps this is how they do things in Italy, so I cannot criticize this.

All in all, it was a great production that did justice for to the great opera and composer. 

Verona

After a two hour drive from Milan, today was spent in Verona. It is a very pleasant city, however there are many tourists. Along the many strip, there are many fashionable stores to get the tourists to spend their money. I have to be reminded that everyone does not live in New York, and thus might not have access to these stores back home. Because I live in New York, however, I do not feel the need to spend any money on things that I can just as easily get at home. Perhaps there is some degree of exoticism in buying a fancy shirt in Italy.

While the main strip was very crowded, one did not need to walk too far into the side streets to be alone and find charming gems. Of course there were the medieval churches that had art spanning from the early 11th century to the later Renaissance and beyond. One that struck me was the church of the Holy Resurrection, or San Anastasia. The reason this church appealed to me is because sometime in its history, it developed a relationship with St. George, and so there were two images of the saint standing over the slain dragon. I always appreciate and look for the many different ways St. George is portrayed, as if I have some relation to the legend in virtue of my name.

Another curious attraction in fair Verona, where we lay our scene... with all the admired beauties of Verona, is a balcony that local lore claims is the actual balcony, where Juliet called, "O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo?" I found it astounding that a from a work of fiction, one would claim that this is the one and same balcony that Shakespeare wrote about 500 years ago. They even have a small plaque where they lay out their argument. They claim that a family, Capullo, which certainly must be the same as Capulet, owned this home, and this is the only balcony in the whole city which matches the description and time period that Shakespeare wrote. However, a quick glance at the famous scene from Romeo and Juliet will reveal that there is no description of any balcony, but instead the directions say that she comes from a window. Further, the scene is set in Capulet's orchard, where one would expect plants and vegetables to be growing on the ground, and not the small, enclosed stone space where we were. Even in fair Verona, we can see that people would take advantage of the dreams and romanticism of tourists.

Perhaps my cynical side has been revealed too much in this argument. However, I do not want to lead one to believe that I do not appreciate the romanticism of Juliet's Balcony. Whether the real Juliet actually spoke Shakespeare's words from this spot is not relevant. What is relevant is the hopes, dreams, and ideals of each individual who comes here, just for a glance of where true love may have blossomed in the face of a reality whose only purpose seemed to be to strike it down and crush it; to be where two lovers had the passion to discard this reality and strive to make the substance of the world conform to their inner most heart.

Bergamo

Today we went to a small village called Bergamo. At least it was small years ago. Now it seems that there are many tourists there, and many of the shops that line the streets cater to them. The town is actually rather big now, having extended well beyond the walls that protected the city when Venice ruled the region. This means that there are many hills to walk up and valleys to walk down if you choose to walk a bit beyond the tourist center. Of course, there were interesting churches and small, charming streets to walk down. I take many photos because I hope to study the architecture a bit closer, and hopefully design better environments for films and games. Many of the details that I have seen will help me create better illustrations, models, and such.

It so happens that the family of my kind host is from Bergamo, or at least had set up roots here. He told me a story about how the family was originally from Sardina, but sometime in the early 1900s they moved to Bergamo for the healthier climate, as recommended by a doctor in regards to a sickly aunt or other family member. 

Sforzesca Castle

Today we visited a new site, the Sforzesca Castle. It used to be the home of the rulers of Milan, the Sforza family. Now it is a nice grounds to visit and explore that includes many museums. We arrived in the afternoon, perhaps too late, and we only saw a handful of the exhibitions before we were kicked out at closing time. It was interesting enough to see different sculptures and suits of armor through the ages of Milan. At the end of the sculpture museum was one of the last works by Michelangelo, an unfinished Pieta. Because it was unfinished, it was interesting to see aspects of the process of marble sculpture, like how he changed the position of the head completely; one could see on the side of Mary's head, in her scarf, where he had originally wanted to place an eye, but later decided on the final position, with her head at a ninety degree turn.

Another interesting portion of the museums was the section on musical instruments. There were many pianos of different shapes and sizes, as well as many instruments in the violin family and guitar family. There are only so many table pianos and violins one can look at before they all start to look the same. However, I was very surprised that by the end of the exhibition, there was a room that covered early electronic music from the 50s and 60s. There were big, wall sized computers that consisted of transistors, switches, and vacuum tubes. They even had a score by an Italian composer named Bruno Maderna who composed music on these machines. It was unfortunate that they were closing and kicked us out while I was looking at this part of the exhibition.

Whether I enjoy those musical experiments or not (some I do, and some I don't), I find it very interesting and important in the history of music. I am always very excited when I see coverage of modern and contemporary art, especially in the old countries that are so celebrated for their earlier history. Everyone should realize that history is happening right now, and people who are making art today, no matter how strange you might think it is, are fundamentally the same thing as all the old masters, just with different methods, instruments, and ideas.

After walking exploring the Castle Sforzesca, we walked through a neighborhood called Brera. It was charming, just as all the small neighborhoods. The neighborhood was based around the art school as the focus. Because of this, there were many small art galleries lining the streets, and many cafes. After all, where should young art students gather and hang out besides smokey cafes?

At the end of the street was another church. What I found especially interesting about this church was that there was a plaque on the wall of the adjoining religious housing that Mozart had lived there for two months in 1770. 

Navigli

In the evening we went to a new neighborhood, Navigli. It is a neighborhood that straddles either side of a canal in Milan. The whole system of canals was once very useful, especially for trade, but now the ones that have not been covered over are simply decoration. There are not even gondoliers who might row a romantic couple along the canal. But at least it is still pretty. There were many restaurants and stores that offered outdoor seating. The first place we stopped was a beer specialty bar. Regardless of the chalk menu above the bar being in Italian, I still would not have been able to make sense of any beer flavors, even if it were in English. It was still fun to try different flavors. My favorite was the one that most resembled Guinness.

We later found a nice restaurant to sit and eat, but since we were getting bitten by mosquitos every second, the decision to move indoors was made. The two course dinner was great, and I especially liked the lamb.

Instead of eating dessert at the restaurant, we walked along the canal, and found a gelato store, where I had stracciatella, which is ultimately chocolate chips in vanilla. This was a good way to end the night.

Foolishly, I did not take any pictures, so I will have to return to photograph the location. 

Parco delle Basiliche

After a late start, yesterday I was taken to a different neighborhood on the other side of Milan. My host told me stories of growing up in the neighborhood, and even showed me the bedroom window of his youth. The number 36 was still on the building, as he remembered. It was a thin tree-lined street with a welcoming feeling. The trees were tall and thin, and the trees on opposite sides knew that they should bend in towards the street in order to become a canopy offering shade to to the Milanese.

I was told of story about walking to school and having a neighboring girl always waiting for him so they could walk together. Apparently there was nothing romantic between the two, because when the girl revealed that her boyfriend did not like this walk she was taking with someone else every morning and had to stop, she had little hesitation to cut off their morning routine.

Being a fanatic of ancient and medieval churches, we saw three in the neighborhood. I heard more stories of alleys and tunnels that served as shortcuts on the way to school 50 years ago. The old Romanesque architecture was impressive, but I was also surprised with some elements within the churches. One church, dedicated to St. Ambrose, the bishop of Milan, was especially old and interesting. It was built after the ascendancy of Constantinople, and although one was badly damaged and almost unrecognizable, there was another Byzantine-style mosaic of Jesus and the apostles that was in wonderful shape. 

Another interesting feature deep within one chapel was the body of (presumably) St. Ambrose, lying in state, as it has been for over 1600 years. This was more impressive because in many churches that claim to have a body of a venerable saint, the body is so far away and obscured to the public eye that one with doubt might not believe that any body was there at all. However, St. Ambrose was in a glass coffin and people were free to walk up to a meter close to see the body.

After visiting another church, San Lorenzo, we also walked through the Park of the Basilica, which was a long park with churches at either end, both of which we visited. 

There is one interesting thing that I am noticing and reminds me of my last time in Italy. There is a lot of graffiti on the walls, and throughout the parks and squares where we visit, there are many young people who look like hippies. They gather in large circles and you can spot them from their ratty and dirty clothes, dreadlocks and/ or half shaved heads, scraggly beards, scribbled tattoos, and the smell of funny cigarettes. There are many hacky-sack enthusiasts and future circus jugglers practicing their art.

Another fashionable group that I have seen are those who are helping the 80s fashion return, with a 21st century twist. What I used to call step haircuts are prevalent here, especially amongst women, where the hairline just above the ears is shaved all the way down, and the top is allowed to grow and flow in whatever manner. I remember always being reprimanded in high school because as an act of pseudo-rebellion, I refused to cut my hair in an acceptable fashion that would comply with the dress code.  

The apartment

(photo of the apartment building I'm staying at)

I have been very burnt out by New York for the past few years. I always complain about wanting to move, yet I never do. One of my most common complaints is the noise. Where I live, savages from the neighborhood come out of their caves and believe that everyone within earshot wants to hear their music, and so they play it as loud as they can so everyone can join in their festivities. Another problem is that car alarms frequently go off, and no one bothers to turn them off, or kids and other savages hit cars on purpose to make a sort of car alarm symphony. Sometimes people scream and choose to fight on the sidewalk, or trash trucks move slowly up the street growling and beeping while leaving a wake of garbage behind them.

When I walk around other parts of the city, neighborhoods that I might think are more pleasant, I realize that the same problems persist, and thus it seems like the only way to escape such madness is to leave the city all together. And so I was really looking forward to getting out of New York for a few weeks and enjoying the peace and quiet of another town. Perhaps Milan is too big and busy to be called a town, but my ignorance just wanted something different. If I were more capable of objective thinking, I would consider that Milan is a large city, and that it would certainly have all the noises and madness of other large cities. But I am not that intelligent.

So it was a wonderful surprise last night when the car alarms of the Bronx were substituted with house alarms in Milan. Perhaps someone was really robbing some apartment, but the alarm kept going. And going. And going. I have recently learned to zone out certain things from my mind. It helps me cope with the ridiculous noises that I have to put up with in New York. And so I was able to do the same here in Milan. However, when an alarm continues to sound for several minutes, it is easier to relegate the screaming tones to background noise than if the alarm is turned off, then sounded again. The later happened four times last night. After the first alarm was turned off after 5 minutes, I thought that I would be able to fall asleep peacefully. A couple of minutes later it sounded again. I think that it is actually the startle of first hearing an alarm like this that jars the soul and causes the greatest anguish, just as when the alarm is turned off, a tremendous serenity overtakes the soul, and I become grateful for the peace I now have, and the peace that existed before the whole mess. It also surprises me, the defeat that I must acquiesce to when I hear the third and fourth attack of the alarm, and I no longer become startled of angry, but rather submit to the idea that this the truly how the world works, and who am I to expect any better?

Eventually I fell asleep, and I don't know how many more times the alarm sounded, because I did not awaken until late the next morning.  

Duomo

In a short while we were at the Duomo. It surprised me because it did not have the Renaissance design that I would expect in Rome or Florence. Instead, the architecture was clearly Baroque in nature, and very ornate. I was assured that this was a result of the church taking so long to finish, and that while the facade was Baroque, the interior retained a very gothic shape and design. It was very neat to see a large cathedral like this because I had not been in Europe for several years, and although I had seen so many churches on my last trip, it is always fun to see new things, especially if it is after so long. 

The cathedral is at the center of the Piazza, and there are many more interesting buildings framing the square, including the Galleria. It has a very impressive gate in the shape of a triumph arch that leads into the covered space. The shape of the whole space is basically a cross, with stores along the sides, and the roof is glass that brings in an interesting atmosphere, and the center of the cross, there is a glass dome that is impressive. It might sound silly, but my first acquaintance with the Galleria was in a car racing video game, in which you drive through the Galleria. Seeing this in real life was a more fascinating experience.

Walking a little bit further, past the Galleria, we came upon another smaller square where La Scalla Opera house was. It was very nice to see, but it did not surprise me that of the fifteen or so operas on the summer schedule, the newest one was more than 75 years old. I suspect I can't expect them to play my own operas just yet.

After that, we got lost in the small streets of the neighborhood. That was a lot of fun, and reminded me of all the charm that being in an Italian city should be for tourists. Many of these small streets have since been closed to automobile traffic (which were probably too small for many cars in any case), so were perfect for walking. After wandering these streets to find our way back to where we had originally come out of the subway, we decided that we were too worn out to walk back to the apartment, so when we found a subway station, we went in, and headed home.  

Arriving in Milan

When I was finally settled in Milan, I figured that it would be too much of a hassle to try to nap now and expect to be comfortable after a short nap, so I decided to try to stay awake, live through the first day in Milan, and after a good night's sleep, all my brain and back pains would go away, and I would be acclimated to the time change. After a light breakfast, I lied down in my bed with my eyes closed. My mind felt like it was so disoriented and damaged that even though it was obvious I needed sleep, it would not allow me sleep. I was wrong, and two hours or so later, I awoke from a nap, feeling no better than earlier. I couldn't be bothered with silly discomforts, so we went out for a stroll to see the cathedral, and that general neighborhood. it was about four subway stops away from where we were, so I asked if they minded walking the distance to the Duomo. I know that not everyone has a passion for walking through cities like I do, so I typically concede to take the train. They did offer me a compromise, though and we walked the distance of one train stop.

The reason I like walking through the city streets to get from one place to the other is that I feel like I get a better idea of the people and the place where I am this way. You get to see the people walking the streets, and the typical layout, shape, and contents of the neighborhoods. Walking over the streets and sidewalks, I feel the shape of the streets, the hills, and composition of the concrete and bricks. One thing that I decided early on was that, counter to many people's judgements, this city is not so ugly as people had told me. Certainly it does not have the sites of Rome or Florence or Venice, but how many cities do? Just as a woman who does not look like a supermodel can still be pretty, a city that does not look like Venice can still have its charm.

We were walking down a main street that leads straight to the Duomo in the center of the city. Many of the buildings that line the streets seem to have a nineteenth century feel to them, much like the buildings in New York. The people walking the streets also seems to also have an element of New York attitude. They walk fast, and if you dare to walk slowly in front of them, they will push past you, but in a polite way. If you happen to stop at a red light at a corner and no cars are crossing, you will also see people walk past you to cross.

Traffic is fun to watch, too. Cars zoom by, but whenever the light first turns green, a group of motorcycles always zooms by first. While the light was red, each of them was sliding in between the cars, making their way to the front. It makes me want to buy a motorcycle.

One interesting phenomenon was the presence of bookstores. In New York, so many have failed and gone out of business for any number of reasons. But there are so many little bookstores along each street, perhaps one every two or three blocks. And they are not like the mega-sized stores that are the final ones standing in New York, but they all seem to be small, independent stores, taking up only a few hundred square meters, if that. It is my habit when traveling abroad to pick up a book or two in the local language. I am not sure which I should get in Italy, but I have a guess.

After a few blocks, I had agreed to take the subway the rest of the way, but they said we could walk back. The station and the train was clean, and not too crowded in the afternoon. Perhaps although it was the center of the city we were headed to, it was not so much the business center, and lacked the hustle and bustle and savagery that I expect in the New York subway.  

Going to Milan, Italy

Going to Milan is the first international trip that I have taken since leaving Japan in 2007. I am looking forward to going somewhere new.

As before, I tend to get more tense in airports, and my attitude begins to show. I can complain about many things, especially customer service, but now that I am leaving New York (at least for a short spell), perhaps I should relax a bit, and not complain so much.

But I feel free to complain about the plane ride. (Afterall, this is part of the vacation, and outside of America.) It would be meaningless, and I would not inform anyone of anything new or interesting if I complained about airplane food, so I won't do that. However, since I don't especially care about eating well, I can say that both the dinner soon after take-off, and the breakfast soon before landing filled me up.

I had the good fortune to have a seat next to a young family with a small child. The child thought it appropriate to let everyone on the plane know her dissatisfaction with her situation (or at the very least, was unaware of how to hide her dissatisfaction), and frequently let out high pitched screams and squeals. This calmed down at about the midway point of the flight, when the child and everyone else fell asleep.

Everyone except for me. It might have been the extra large cup of coffee that I had while still in the airport, or it might have been nerves, or something else. In any case, I did not sleep at all during the eight hour flight, but I had endless films to watch in the television imbedded in the seat-back in front of me; quite a luxury! I had also uploaded many books into my e-reader, and my ipod was filled with music, so I would not be bored. Despite the movies, and books that I had intended to read, I opted for the music, despite the fact that I have recently given up music, and was bored by anything I heard. A melody from a Chopin nocturne came into my head from I-don't-know-where, and so I turned on the ipod and listened to my collection of Chopin music. Perhaps new things can be found in the old, afterall.

I did, in fact, try to sleep, but I just couldn't. Perhaps it was because the seat was so uncomfortable. It seems that as I am getting older, different parts of my body are hurting more and more. For the last few weeks, I have not been able to get rid of different pains that are traveling around my back and neck. (I have told myself that when I return to New York, I will buy myself a proper workstation so I can work in comfort; I have also told myself that I will buy a new computer, and then take a trip to Japan, but who knows what my cheapness will allow me to buy.) This pain continued during the flight, and when I did finally get up from the seat to disembark the plane, a kink in my neck stopped me when I reached down to pick up my bag. Without doubt, the trip did worse for my back than it had been. That only tells me that during this trip, I should make sure to relax and not stress myself too much, especially about some work that I had plan to accomplish while here.

Flying over the cities before the plane landed, I did not feel the sudden excitement of being in a new country. From the sky, Milan and its surroundings did not seem like a new world to explore, and it looked to me some town in America. Before coming here, I had heard that Milan was the least interesting of Italian cities because it had been so industrialized. Having an open mind, at least I could explore if that prejudice was accurate.

All that said, I immediately felt like I was in Italy on my way out of the airport, through immigration and customs. Because I was not an EU citizen, I had to wait in the longer line to get my passport stamped. I never take for granted any sort of law and order, or control over the law and order institutions in foreign countries, nor my right to be in a foreign country, so I tend to be overly careful and respectful, waiting for directions before advancing from the line to the inspector. When I was finally at the front of the line, the immigration official tilted his head to the side and looked at me as if wondering whether I wanted to go through or not. Of course, I was feigning dopiness, and walked up.

When I was face to face with the officer, I immediately felt like I was in Italy. The fat man looked like he hadn't shaved in a few days, and his eyes told me that either he really hated having to work so early in the morning (it was 7:30), or he had just arrived to work after drinking all night with his friends. I looked at his neat uniform. He allowed the very top button to be opened, since he was not required to wear a tie, and the next two buttons were closed. The rest of the buttons on his shirt were undone in order to let his fat and hairy belly some air to breathe. Perhaps he believed something like the myth that television newscasters did not have to wear pants, since their legs were under the table, and people would not see them. However, his gut was free for everyone to see, and I am sure that people taller than I would have an angle to see even more.

While waiting for my checked bags, I quickly remembered to look through my wallet to make sure there wasn't anything in there that might get me in trouble going through customs; now would be the chance to run to the bathroom and flush anything that I might have forgotten in there after some night of debauchery. Fortunately, a quick run to the bathroom was not necessary, and I waited patiently for my bag. I am always nervous going through customs, because I don't like the idea of someone ruffling through my clothes. There was an arrow on the ground that said I should go this way for inspection, and I walked slowly. Before I knew it, I had gone though the glass doors and was outside, Italy welcoming me. I hoped that I hadn't gone the wrong way, because I missed any customs inspectors, so when I was far enough away, I looked back to see if I had missed something. Indeed I did. There were two inspectors with their fancy hats sitting on a folding table, chatting with each other. I walked right past them, and I doubt they even glanced at me. Perhaps it was too early in the morning for them to be bothered. It was just as well, because I had a headache, a backache, and my brain and eyes weren't working right from a lack of sleep.