Experiencing Milanese Italy
By Joanne Lane I arrived in Milan in style on the Eurostar train with all the elegant people and their mobile phones and left with the dregs of society on the intercity with southern bound, ungroomed Italians who read cheap newspapers and fought in the passageways. But I never felt more nervous and unprepared in my life than on that train to Milan. We came in fast and flying, all those polished people... and me, hopelessly out of place but reasoning that arriving on this ridiculously expensive train would be a way to at least disembark in style. I had visions of seas of people with manicured nails and designer clothes, parading past me with condescending looks, whipping immaculately curled locks into my face, and spearing my sandalled feet beneath their high heels. Of course none of this happened. It was a wet day and people in coats and umbrellas moved orderly through the huge white marble Central station. It was clean and impressive and the people were extremely friendly anxious to assist, had good English, sneakers, jeans and more surprisingly - no makeup. Milan is not a tourist city and perhaps for this reason the Milanese remain friendly and helpful. People, even foreigners, usually only come here for business so shopkeepers, transport and other public service providers have never been inundated with annoying visitors. Milan`s origins are believed to be Celtic, but it was conquered by the Romans in 222 BC, and later became an important trading and transport centre. It flourished from the 13th century under the Visconti and Sforza families. Not much has changed. Today it is the richest city in Italy, and home to the most famous names of Italian commerce like Campari, Benetton, Armani and Alfa-Romeo. And for the first few hours, I admit it, I searched for these stereotypical images of Milan. There were other Italian images like flowers on the balconies and flapping laundry but where were the designer shops, fashion gurus and extravagant vehicles? But the only people I saw had tattoos, torn jeans and plastic bags on their heads. There was even a woman casually picking her nose. Surely this was not Milanese fashion. The tram stop listed a timetable but I expected it to be late. It wasn`t. The driver refused to stop for two women who arrived after he had pulled out. Yikes, I thought that only happened in England, certainly not in Italy. Onboard an old woman was muttering to herself and at least half the tram were fiddling with or talking on their mobile phones. The roads weren`t too busy and when I jumped off the shopkeepers spoke amicably to me while I debated over whether to buy a red or green apple. I spent the week working with a computer company. The office was just outside the city centre where building rent was cheaper. In Milan this is one way of saying the building is derelict and only suitable for vagrants and homeless. I was even more disappointed when I met my co-workers. Fair enough these people worked with technology, not fashion, but there was no excuse for their long skanky shirts, unwashed hair with roots showing, bandannas, unshaven faces and flat soled shoes in Milan. We ate lunch in a cafe across the road that was also used by the gymnasium clients from next door. People wandered past in sweaty clothes looking rather unstylish. I was beginning to feel quite disappointed with my Milan experience. But when I left in the afternoon I noticed the woman at reception had on wads of makeup and thought finally, heaven forbid, this was a true Milanese contact. At the tram stop outside a man asked me where he could buy a ticket. This seemed quite out of character in my experience of Italians and I wondered if the Milanese were actually law abiding. I felt disappointed again. But when the tram suddenly rolled up, he muttered something about not having time and jumped on. That`s the spirit. Back on board I was pleased to see a few women reapplying their makeup and to witness my first Milanese traffic accident. A car and scooter both tried to overtake our tram and collided. The scooter`s fender was dragging on the ground and he began yelling at the car. The driver yelled back until they both realised neither could hear above the traffic, so they drove to a screeching halt on the kerb, jumped out, gestured and shouted some more and drove away. No one battered an eyelid but I was fascinated. Perhaps Milan was starting to reveal herself. I started to pay more attention to traffic. There are many nice cars in Milan, after all it is home to Alfa-Romeo, but if you look more closely it is impossible to walk a street and not see an unscathed car. Most are missing wing mirrors and have dented fenders others would be better described as smashed hulks. The Milanese park at odd angles, hanging into oncoming traffic or wedged so tight in parking spaces they must nudge at each other to get out. Driving at peak hour is just plain dangerous. It`s almost like an Asian bazaar without the animals, except for all the dogs on leashes. I watched a man careen past a tram, a bus, half a dozen scooters and several other smashed up looking vehicles without pausing for breath on his mobile phone. He could have been an F1 driver. Another lady was doing the same on a scooter, her mobile resting between her ear and shoulder so she could not really look around. No wonder the cars are all smashed up, they have no idea about safety. I stayed with a girl called Cristina but everyone called her Chicchi. She was described to me as a typical Milanese girl, a professional architect but big on the social scene. Unfortunately I met her bathroom first and was so overwhelmed I almost moved out before she came home. I doubt all Milanese bathrooms are like hers but this was the equivalent of a body shop palace. There were marble floors, white porcelain baths, and every surface area was covered in soaps, perfumes, bath lotions, lipsticks, cleansers, sprays, toys etc. But Chicchi was both very nice and very Milanese - smartly dressed, multi lingual and went to parties every night. That night she had arranged one at her house. I was immediately a mess of nerves. After torturous debate I settled to wear black socks instead of going barefoot Australian style (too casual) or wearing my horrible unpolished flat soled shoes. Actually I should not have bothered. One girl came in a tank top, another from the gymnasium and one man wore sandals. Dinner was casual and I should have guessed that conversation, even among up and coming professionals, would be about food. We were in Italy after all. One man described his diet for a good half hour while everyone listened fascinated. The next evening we went to a pub around the corner. Well actually we stood outside amongst the scooters. Some people sipped their beers from the back of these, others milled around with their helmets waiting for a lift. The long hair was out, the heels on, and everyone seemed to know everyone. Actually it seemed impossible to go anywhere with any Milanese resident and not meet someone they knew at the tennis, on the tram, in a computer store, in a bar you have run into to escape the rain. It`s a small town mentality for such a large place. People tend to live in the same few blocks all their lives and can walk the streets knowing at least half the other people on them. It`s a place where a kid can still kick a soccer ball down the alleyway off a back street. Where fruit sellers advertise their wares from loudspeakers of a vehicle like they do in smaller Italian towns. Where shopkeepers will greet you every day if you ever bought anything from them. Where the same people get the same trams to and from work. After only a few days I knew the people at all the important shops like the pasticceria, gelato casa (ice cream house), and creperie the man with the funny glasses on the 8.30am tram, the flower seller on the corner and an old grandmother with manicured eyebrows and a tight skirt who rode her bike past at the same time every day. I bar hopped, drank beers from scooters, walked the shopping malls with the trendy crowds, chatted to the people I knew from my street and I thought, aah yes, this is the Milan I expected. Perhaps. But maybe I got it all wrong. THINGS TO SEE AND DO
The Milano Duomo is extraordinary. It was commissioned by Gian Galeazzo Visconti in 1386 and has a spiky structure with many pinnacles, statues and pillars. The nearby shop lined Galleria Vittorio Emmanuele II is also impressive and worth a stroll. At the end of Via Dante is the huge Castello Sforzesco containing a museum with sculptural works. There are other museums including the Palazzo di Brera and the Cenacolo Vinciano. St Ambrose`s Day on December 7 is one of Milan`s major festivals. Lake Como is only a short train trip from Milan. WHERE TO SHOP
The Galleria Vittorio Emmanuele II shopping mall is a graceful building with plenty of cafes, specialty shops and book stores. The main shopping areas are between the Duomo and Castello Sforzesco at the other end of Via Dante. HOW TO GET THERE AND AROUND
From Stazione Centrale there are frequent trains to major cities around Italy and Europe. There is also an international airport. Milan is small enough to negotiate on foot and has an excellent system of buses, trams and trains. Buy tickets in the tabacchi stores and validate them in the machines onboard. WHERE TO STAY
Finding accommodation in Milan can be difficult and is not cheap. Prepare well in advance. There are youth hostels, nunneries and hotels. WHEN TO GO
In August Milan closes down when most inhabitants take their annual holidays. Summers are hot and humid and the rest of Italy is busy. BOOK HERE |
