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After the dull-to-relate-but-nice-to-participate-in rituals of morning ablution and breakfast, we all met up with the coach, which was provided by Chicca's family, to be taken to Milan. The locals add an O to its name, but it's Milan to me! The majority of the Wedding Party were staying at the hotel, but a few of the lads were staying in Chicca's family's holiday cottage and were provided with a car to travel back and forth from Crema, and some of the girls were staying with friends of Chicca's family. Surprisingly, these arrangements worked without worry for the whole of the wedding. It was my belief that David would get to the front of the church and only remember his guests' arrangements and not the service - however, I was being silly!
We were dropped off at Diaz square in Milan and told to go away and come back later, after visiting the area. No tours. No groups. Just go!… it suited us down to the ground. David said that we should remember the name of Il Piazza Diaz through the film actress Cameron Diaz - indeed, David didn't know of any other Diaz it could be named after… my assumption that Milano was renamed with its "O" after the famous Alyssa Milano was about as sound as David's fallacious surmise.
So, you're in one of the most impressive cities in the world, designer shops round every corner, architecture galore, what is the obvious first thing to do? That's right, go and buy some postcards or "Cartoline" in the local speak. Thinking about it now, I wonder if Caroline's enjoyment of postcard sending and receiving comes from the similarity with her name and "Cartoline" - it's a NEW theory… but that's the only adjective I'll use about it!
When we asked for stamps for our postcards, which we'd bought at the tourist information place, we were told that stamps are freely on sale in all TOBACCONISTS and that is where we should go. Obviously! In fact, the extra twist is that most tobacconists are actually in-shops inside bars and cafés - it's a BIT confusing, but we worked it out in the end. It would have been easier for us to have been French! but I'm glad that we aren't.
At the start of our sojourn in Milan, all of the English-folk from the Wedding Party took a similar route towards the centre of the city. The biggest building to see? Il Duomo - the dome - or Cathedral. Since it was the day before Easter Sunday, many people were gathered and it was quite remarkable to see their obvious commitment to their faith. The very sight of the statue of Christ was very emotive to those people who came to see it and this was our first brush with the strength of the Catholic faith of those around us.
But we were not just tourists (well okay, maybe LARGELY tourists). We were not content just to enjoy the sights inside the Cathedral. We were tourists with inside information from a certain Mr Dale Winton, who had journeyed up to the heady heights of the roof of this establishment on a holiday program and had not been allowed to take his camera crew with (which might have alleviated any need for us to go up there to see what the fuss was about). Therefore, we had a mission - a fact finding roof-exploring goal.
In fact, there was a lift to take you up to the start of the roofing area of the Cathedral and we gladly paid for its services, rather than using the stairs. I say roofing area instead of roof, since the word "roof" does not adequately convey what is up there. Milan cathedral occupies a large area of the city centre and, therefore, its roof must also occupy that area. Rather than just throw on a few slates and be done with it, the architects of this structure saw fit to include as much detail up there as to the inside - maybe even more. I suppose that their religious fervour will have accepted that God is everywhere and so would probably appreciate a nice roof to look at; if not that, then at least they thought they could provide a heritage for passing tourists of the future and this they did.
The roof is made of marble slabs, arranged in such a way as to provide immense load-bearing ability - this I proved by walking on it. One starts off at the periphery of the roof, where large amounts of fence-wire provide a barrier between a fall leading to certain death and a nice lookout over the city. After climbing around the outer and lower parts of the roof, one can reach the middle and top. Along the way are many carved statues in the marble - the crosshatch of fencing wire pales into insignificance against the panorama of effort which has yielded such a place.
Unfortunately, the crosshatch of fencing wire can also cause an argument. You see, we had one of those instant cameras with no frills, just a battery powered winder and automatic flash - point, press and pray that the film has not been damaged on its way into the country. The narrowness of the gap between bits of wire meant that the camera could not be positioned so that both the viewfinder and the lens were not obscured by a bit of wire when trying to photograph the city below. My argument was that the main lens captures the image onto the film - Caroline's argument was that the viewfinder shows what you'll see on your picture. After a "discussion" we agreed to do it my way. Having seen the prints, I can only conclude that the way I was suggesting should be renamed "the right way".
You can only spent so long up on the roof - even if "this old world is getting you down". As it happens the world was not getting us down. There was a smattering of rain which, although it made the marble roof somewhat harder to walk on, was barely noticed by we hardy Newcastle dwellers. Other than that, we had no cares or worries except to be back at the Cameron Diaz square several hours into the future, and to hope that our smart clothes (safely unfolded in a wardrobe miles away) would de-crease before the wedding.
Back on the ground, we found a square which is dedicated to the people of Milan and which must be behaved in. A sign on a lamp post indicated which activities were prohibited - grafitti (a hobby in Italy so it seems) was disallowed, along with a few other urban faux-pas and something which was either sitting on stairs or crapping in the street (we couldn't tell). From this odd place we found the location of La Scala and peeped in through the doors like cheap criminals who could not afford to buy tickets even to see the lobby.
Following such honest exertions, only one thing could fill the gap - LUNCH. We went into the arcade Vittorio Emmanuel and were immediately bowled over by its three main features. The architecture, which is quite like all the nice parts of a railway station, the plethora of interesting shops and the oriental underclass whose lot in life is to sell cheap tat and try to avoid being arrested. We found a little café bar, which sounds like the result of investigation, but actually involved wandering the length of the place until we could not be bothered to decide any further and stopped where we happened to be standing.
Over lunch, which included some excellent lasagne and coffee, Caroline and I busied ourselves. Caroline, with her penchant for postcards, was already embroiled in the composition of brief notes to those back home, I concentrated on the tat-sellers. The trick to tat-selling, is to carry a large sheet around with you. On this sheet, you arrange your goods - cheap annoying plastic toys or cheap silk scarves, which look like designer labels, but in fact say things like "D&C" instead of "D&G" or "GK" instead of "CK" - they'd hate to plagiarise! With your goods arranged on the sheet, you are thus able to promote them to the outside world - indeed anyone who does not immediately look away is clearly DYING to be pursued with your sales banter. Of course, the other advantage of your sheet, is that you can, on the alert from your lookout, or on the slightest provocation, quickly fold up the sheet, sling it under your arm and, thus, be immune to the long arm of the law taking you to the naughty-people-place.
So, it was quite entertaining watching these people repetitively folding up their sheets and then coming back and laying them out, straightening the goods into a neat display after displacement by folding or people walking across them and then folding them up again. The police wander back and forth through the arcade and it is amazing to see how quickly these ad-hoc shops can be assembled and disassembled. We had the pleasure to see these people caught unawares as the police came back down too soon after they'd just been up. This meant that the sheets could not be folded neatly and stuck under the arm just in time - they were just grabbed and their owners ran and scattered - afraid for their livelihoods. It was much like watching the pigeons scatter at Trafalgar square.
On the subject of pigeons, it is worth mentioning that the square outside the arcade, which was also the square which hosted the Cathedral, was full of them. As we were walking through it, I noticed a flurry of pigeons and tried to avoid stepping on them - it's not polite to go to someone's country and murder their town-dwelling birds - at which point someone threw a handful of corn in my hand. This prompted the birds, who did not fear the 24 stone Brit, to land on my hand and arm to eat the corn. This was an amusing sensation - not in the sense of laughter, of course. The man who was responsible for this then started explaining to us that he had the power to take a picture of us in front of the Cathedral. I was powerless to leave his sales banter, since I had an arm full of birds… clever. As the corn supply dwindled, it was replenished by this man, who I eventually convinced not to take a photo of us, since it would probably capture my soul - actually I explained that we already had a camera and about 200 miles of film and that he would not be helping us any by adding to the myriad snaps we'd be showing our soon-to-be-ex friends on our return.
After our meal, we wandered further into Milan and went to the northern part of the city to see the castle and its art collection. I found the paintings to be fun - the majority of them showing scenes from Catholicism. In fact, nearly all of the paintings we saw involved Jesus, Mary, Angels, pain and death in some sort of combination - it was like everyone in the country had exactly the same idea for a picture simultaneously and drew their own slight variation on it. Still, there's no accounting for taste!
There is not much more to say about our day in Milan. We returned from the Castle in time to see some shouting punk-style girl with a barking and snapping Alsation being forcibly imprisoned and we eventually did find our stamp-vendor. And so we met the others on the bus at the infamous Diaz square, via an Italian Habitat shop, not unlike an English one.
Written: May 1998
Posted: 30 October 2001
Ashley Frieze