Fairy Tales Can Come True, It Can Happen to You…...

I have become several things in middle-age, some of them I know to be not so flattering. Chief among them, at least on the positive side of things, could be termed “the serial chronicler”. Maybe, if you have to think about it, this is just some hysterical side-effect of passing over the line into a new decade and realizing that just perhaps, you are are on the “other side” of that curve of life and now have some existential need to remember and even write down all of your memories before they evaporate into thin air (yikes)……. But oh well, chronicling and photographing, along with all things food are my passions and, well, here I go again, on my amazing just-finished journey to Italy for 13 glorious days:

All along the way over the past 13+ days, the tune, “Fairy Tales Can Come True, It Can Happen to You…….” – that classic tune that Frank Sinatra made famous in 1965 (but somehow reminds me more closely of a Disney movie, say, Cinderella), kept playing in my head….. This is the effect that trips to Italy have on me. This one in particular had a special Fairy Tale quality and succinct life-awareness about it, due to the fact that we were celebrating 35 years of marriage and both of our 60th birthdays. The former milestone is, what I consider an honorable accomplishment – the latter is well, just the beginning of the second act of the Fairy Tale, I’m guessing. Anyway, I consider myself to pretty damned lucky to be on this sort of adventure in my little life-journey, and each and every day I hope and pray that I can keep going and have adventures such as this one, together with my husband and best friend and all-around good sport, who so generously has agreed to join me in my unbridled explosion of passion – of uncontrollable and yes, somewhat compulsive and constant, stage of gypsy-like wondering, and talking about incessantly, the countries and marvels of Europe. And so, to whomever the someone is “up there” who dropped this stage of life on me as a gift, I thank you, thank you with all my heart and soul!

This happy stage of life for us is especially poignant, given that both of our lives started out on what can be characterized for sure as not such a firm terroir (or the “rocky road to Dublin”, as my dear Mother used to say – don’t Moms have all the best sayings,ever? -that is a post for another day) being the children of 3/4 parents with some very major problems, I’m going to go ahead and give ourselves an “I’m ok, you’re ok” pat on the back on an occasion such as this. Working through where we came from and the collateral damage of such is no easy feat. And, when you find yourself still standing and in any degree of “normalcy” (whatever that is) and, perhaps, stability is a better word, well, it is indeed a reason for celebration. Situations such as ours do indeed, set your perspective in a place of such incredible appreciation (such as wow, nothing catastrophic has happened today, isn’t that amazing? but, I digress). I guess, however, that 35 years of marriage in this day and age under any circumstances is a reason to celebrate. And, anyway you know me, I don’t really need any symbolic reason for a trip across the pond, but if you have to have one, I’d say this one is pretty grand! And, my husband really deserves to enjoy himself and I wanted to show him what I’d seen with the kids back in July 2011.

But, truth be told, and you know this already, I don’t need any excuse to go to Italy – not-a one! I’m there “irregardless” as Ryan would say.

Sitting at the gate in Newark while waiting to board on 8/31 we got to talking to a couple across from us who said they were going to stay in Parma for a month. Right there in that singular moment, I caught a glimpse of the two of us, in a few years time – what we’d be doing too, and all seemed so golden to me, and not to be corny, but I felt like someone was shining down on us. Here was a couple, perhaps approaching their 70s, with mission in hand, going off for yet another adventure on their list – to the country that couldn’t provide more opportunity, and the one that has so deeply captured my heart and soul. And, so, off, too, we went! I couldn’t have been more giddy with my own (still cautious) state of luck.

Ahhhhh, Milano! City of great beauty and the object of much “dissing”. This being my second visit, I got immediately back to wondering where people come away with the opinion that Milan is not worth visiting. It’s industrial, not much there, easy to pass over, are among the comments that I have often heard. And, I wonder to myself, have these people ever been there? Oh well, if they are not going they are missing out, for I think Milan is a little gem all its own.

We arrived at our hotel and I was anxious to show George the incredible great beauty and wonder that sits just around the corner from our door and the Galleria, the Duomo. I don’t know about you, but I am in a major state of awe of any project undertaken by anyone that takes 6 centuries to complete. This site, on which stood the original from 335 AD and then rebuilt after a fire in 1075 is, in my humble estimation, one of the most beautiful and intricate buildings in the world. Would anyone seriously get tired of looking at it and wondering who the people were who conceived of it and then set out to undertake such a massive and beautiful image, knowing they would never be alive to see the final work being done? I’d have to say that I could sit for a very long while and wonder how the workers miraculously positioned not just one but all of the statues atop of those spires. To think and to say that perhaps hundreds, if not thousands of people lost their lives while working on this building is no understatement, and for a simpleton like me, I’m saying that to gaze upon this masterpiece is alone one very good reason to visit Milan – one of the oldest and largest Christian buildings in Europe. We were lucky enough to view an archeological dig going on and the use of a suction-cup lifter as part of a project to restore the stones of the surrounding walkway. I had to stop myself to imagine what it was like to do this work with nothing to assist but another pair of hands. Extraordinary! The masonry tools of my very own ancestors came into focus as I stood to imagine the workers of the time with their trowels, picks, and other rudimentary but at the same time, ingenious tools for stone work. How much respect I have for these people!

Upstairs/Downstairs – trying to appreciate and imagine working on this: (updated from original posting on 9/13)

Never mind that you can set your eyes upon this wonder, you can also set your eyes and enfold yourself within one of the most charming and lovely cities anywhere, that is Milan. How nice to begin our trip here.

We were lucky enough to have our lunch at the restaurant atop the Museo del Duomo, a spot I also ate at with the kids. That we got to sit next to a middle-aged couple who had just gotten married – she in her white satin wedding gown and ring of flowers in her hair, added yet another magical air to the moment. I gazed in wonder at the simple elegance of the couple on a Monday afternoon, accompanied by just a few of their loved ones and a photographer, with a cake on the table set with red roses, that I thought I took a picture of and now, I guess no……

Anyway, Milan is a charming city to see and presents itself with a very strong early 20th century social vibe – of course the sites to see present themselves with their own aura of earlier centuries. But, it is especially the presence of the most retro of cable cars that people seemingly lovingly use each and every day to get around that reads like its own invitation to stay and be absorbed into a world that was before, in a grander and more civil time when people lived charmingly and more simply in their everyday lives. No subways, no underground, no high speed trains transversing these city streets. So wonderful!

I found myself, as I had before been, smitten with these – somehow, I saw myself as frozen in pictures from some cold-war-era novel of sorts.

I don’t know, it just is so – Milan give off a definite aura of simple patricianism, not unlike Paris, but smaller and simpler in scale and personality, but very self-assured and coddled within itself.

I love to watch the elegantly dressed people, as I did in Paris in July, walking to work – the tallest of men and women with incredibly long legs, many of them, and wonder from whence and from whom these genes sprang into the Eurpopean mix of what is known now as the Lombardy region. I think to myself as I do so often, I must study European history, I must study European history, as I delicately contrast these pleasing physical characteristics to those of the south, and perhaps I am, at 5′ tall and probably less so now, filled with a pleasant envy of this physical beauty. How lucky these people are to don their elegant clothes, the very best suits and shoes in the world and to daily, be able to stride about and look so very naturally elegant. It is distinctly beautiful, and I am bound and determined to understand the sources of these tall and lovely genes that came in that perennial mix of tribes and sprang from ancient cultures to here – just one more facet of fascination for me here.

Well, I am on day one of the return-home syndrome – and I am happy to say that I made it all the way to 5am before getting up for the day.

Here are some of my photos from Milano, city of fashion, city of Lombardy, city of great romantic beauty:

around the Duomo and at lunch at the Museo del Duomo:

amazing 🙂