The Italian Interlude: Part 4- Discovering Duomo

I stepped out of the hotel and just on the opposite side is a children’s playground.  I sat in one of the benches and looked around the park.  I was alone except for some passersby every now and then.  Some are jogging, some walking their dogs some were old folks doing their routinary morning walk. As it was probably a schoolday, there were no children playing on the monkey bars and the cover on the kiddie train announes that it’s not in operation at the moment.  I briskly rubbed my hands to generate some heat against the chilly autumn air.  So I am now in Milan , where do I go now?  Obviously, I haven’t done any research on what to see in Italy , particularly in Milan .  I was basically looking forward to my trip in Rome probably after the choir group arrives here.  We all know Rome is a big place and there are lots to see, but Milan I have no idea other than it being the fashion capital of the world.  Being here right now I would definitely agree to that while holding a neon sign flashing the word “YES”.  It was only now that I started noticing the people of Milan .  For one thing, it seems like it would be a national crime if women go any bigger than size 4.  Almost everyone including the men are either skinny, lean or gym fit.  And you should see how they dress!  People (particularly the locals) of all ages dress like the whole of Milan is a big runway and for awhile back there it felt like I was in a set of The Devil Wears Prada only on a larger scale.  Personality-wise, they are like the “prim and proper” type, soft spoken and basically nice  Going back to my own predicament, where do I go now?  I actually said that aloud preceeded by a deep sigh.  Good thing no one was around or they would have witnessed that rather pathetic moment.  From afar I can see two pinays approaching, finally a ray of hope on that literally cloudy morning. When they got close enough, “Kabayan!” (translated as, “fellow countryman”) I jubilantly called out.  After a few introduction, I asked for directions on how to get to where the tourist spots are.  They told me to take the tram along the main road and it will take me to Duomo.  I didn’t bother to ask what Duomo is and what to see for I felt I’ve taken up much of their time already (but not really).  So instead of taking the tram, I decided to just walk (again) so I can see the place around.  I will just have to follow the tracks till it leads me to this place that I’ve been told. After about 20 minutes worth of walk, I passed by what I call back then “the central park”. 

"After about 20 minutes worth of walk, I passed by what I call back then “the central park”. Later on I will see on the map that it is called Parko Sempione”.

Later on I will see on the map that it is called “Parko Sempione”.  There were quite a lot of people back there but it didn’t actually seem crowded because the park is so big.  There is an area with fence and a sign that of a dog and the word “CANI”.  So this is where you get to unleash your dog and let them run around freely.  There were people jogging, biking and some were having the proverbial “walk in the park” – in its literal sense.  I sat on the bench and took some pictures of the neat landscape of the park.  Moments later two young Asian couple (probably Koreans or something) sat on the bench next to where I was sitting.  At first they were having some sweet cuddly moments and eventually, they were already smooching and that was my cue- I got up and went to the lone kiosk in the park manned by an old Italian man.  I (confidently) asked for a frizzante and headed on my way.  I was still following where the train leads so I was so sure I would never get lost.  Trams (or ATM as they call it) kept passing by every now and then and with that, I couldn’t care any less for I am in the right way (I thought).  One thing that caught my attention though was the route flashed on the LED-signage of each tram.  Earlier it was Lorrentegio-bound but on the same track, another tram is bound to Cadorna!  How can they be in the same track? 

"Trams (or ATM as they call it) kept passing by every now and then..."

 Towards the end of the park, I saw the tracks broke down into four more!  Which one do I follow now?  Oh well, as I am writing this down, I don’t actually remember which one I took.  But whichever from among those tracks I chose, it was the one that led me to Piccolo Theater.  I took a picture of the abstract round wood carving in front of it and went on my way.  Not far from where I was walking, I saw something like a huge tower but huge trees were partly covering my view.  It must be the duomo, I thought so I went towards that direction until I reached the façade of what actually was the Castello.  It was in fact an old castle in the (what I now know as) Cairoli area.  In front of it was a grand fountain which I have seen in the Tagalog movie Milan.  So it was not the Duomo I was looking for, hence it was still a beautiful sight for tourists.  I took some photos of the Castello and after getting the angles I wanted, I went on my way.

I was now in an enclosed street where no vehicles pass.  Among the side-by-side restos with dining areas extended outside, there were designer shops,  sidestreet attractions like there was an artist who does portraits on-the spot as you pose, on one corner a Chinese guy makes flowers and lovely garnishings out of vegetables.  One thing that caught most of the tourists’ attention is a group of red indians playing their native songs using exotic instruments like bamboo piepes and cow-skin drums.  They merged their music with modern electronic gadgets and the combination was rather interesting.  They were not asking for alms from the watchers, instead they were selling their CDs.  I took a small video clip of them as one of the members were doing something like a sundance thing around the skull of a bull with a talisman thingie mark.  That was rather creepy that I decided not to buy their CDs (although the music was really a feast for the senses).  I walked further and further until the street led me to the intersecting main road.  And just on the opposite side was the most beautiful structure I have ever seen! A larger than life, Roman Catholic Church!  Even from afar I could could see how huge it was and I mean really huge and majestic!  I couldn’t think of the right

"...And just on the opposite side was the most beautiful structure I have ever seen!"

words but one thing I remember when I got close, I was like “wooow!” in an audible manner.  I froze right there in front of the Duomo in awe of its grandiose beauty.  This has got to be the biggest of its kind that I’ve ever seen.  Even as I am writing this at the moment, I am still lost for words in describing the masterpiece I have seen first hand.  Considering that I am looking at a structure built centuries and centuries ago when there were no cranes, payloaders or whatever tractors we have right now, is just way too much to figure out.   The marble exterior is intricately adorned with apparently different characters of the Bible, and countless Catholic saints.  I couldn’t count for they were too many and couldn’t figure who they were.  There were effigies

"The marble exterior is intricately adorned with apparently different characters of the Bible, and countless Catholic saints..."

 on the (at least) six pinnacles I could count.  One thing that stood out among them is the gold suclpture of the Madonini.  Later on, I learned from Wikipedia that it was bronze after all.  Just the same, it was really striking.  The place where I was is called Piazza del Duomo (Piazza= Sqaure; Duomo= Basilica).  There were  pigeons all over the place and they seem to be in co-existence with the tourists in the sqaure.  They would land on you if you have some grains to feed them with.  That’s how two resident Egyptians got me.   At first I thought they were just nice to give me some grains of corn so the pigeons would land on me.  Then they took pictures of me (no one would for I was alone remember?) as the pigeons went on a feeding frenzy all over me.  After the blissful moment with the pigeons they charged me 50 Euros for the few grains and the photoshoot.  I know for a fact that they will charge me eventually but not this much!  Their reasons for such price were lame so I argued with them in Arabic in the hopes that they would give a fair bargain.  Futile effort, because I ended up paying them 20 euros each.  Much to my disgust, I just consoled myself with the fact that they took nice shots of me and my costly pigeon friends.  They gave me some more “golden” grains took a few more shots of me without charging me any further like it would help alleviate my feeling of being cheated.  Afterwhich, I left them without a word and went around square. 

There were more

 boutiques like Escada, Hugo Boss around the Duomo.  Small souvenir stalls, restos gives the Piazza a commercial feel and adds up to the convenience of the tourists.  I bought some souvenirs (mostly keyrings, scarves and some tees) to give to the folks back home and treated myself to a hearty Italian lunch consisting of pasta and soup.  After eating to my heart’s content, I felt ready for hours and hours of walking around.  In fact I felt I’ve had enough sustenance to walk my way back to the hotel.  I saw that there was a cue of tourists by the entrance to the Duomo and I thought it would be great if I can get inside as well.  Soon I was in line waiting for my turn to get inside.  There were Italian guards manning the entrance and one of them asked me to remove my cap before entering.  Apparently, no cameras are allowed inside but they don’t seem to mind the tourists taking pictures and videos.  Being inside was another “wow!”  episode that I cannot let this pass without taking as much pictures as I can.  It was rather dim inside yet, I still turned off the camera’s flash to get the actual ambiance in the photos.  Seeing Duomo from the outside was enough already but being inside it is a total moment of incredulity.  More statues,  gigantic pillars, paintings (apparently by Michaelangelo), murals adds to the majesty of the basilica.  The interior is subtly lighted by  various panels of stained-glass art works- the main is found in the altar serving as a perfect backdrop.  The main altar sprawls the entire width of the Duomo, you could just imagine (or not) how wide it is.  The gazebo-like “pulpit” where the priest delivers his sermon is elevated in the mid section.  Hundreds of pews are available for devotees during service (at that time there was none).  After seing much of the Duomo from the inside, I decided to get out and check the unexplored places of the square.  To the right of the Duomo is another old structure but with commercial establishments. It was already late in the afternoon then and the familiar strain on my heels and legs started to signal the fact that I have seen much so I should be heading home.  I wanted to stay awhile and have the feel of the Duomo Square more so I joined the other tourists and sat by the enourmous statue of a man on a horse (whoever its supposed to be) with different beasts just below the pedestal where it stands.  The entire thing is about  20 to 30 feet high.  Pictures here and there as I was sitting.  One time I was taking photos of some odd tourists and another, I’m taking shots of the “bazzillion” (as how a friend calls it) pigeons everywhere.  The bells from the Duomo chimed, signaling it’s time for the Angelus.  Having studied in an exclusive Roman Catholic school up until high school, I understood that it was the prayer to Mary depicting the time when angel Gabriel came to Mary and announced that she will be the earthly mother of the Lord Jesus Christ.  As far as I can remember, these are done at 12:00 noon and obviously 6:00pm (at that time).  It was getting dark anyway and I was so tired already then so I thought it was time to get back to the hotel and rest my tired body, particularly my lower limbs.

 

The Italian Interlude Part 3- A Homey Hotel (in Milan)

The motion-activated sensor prompted the glass door to open as I climbed my way six-steps up to the hotel’s entrance. It was rather

"The hallway is carpeted with green and fractals of criss-crossed lines complimenting the cream colored walls and door..."

narrow compared to what I got used to in Saudi Arabia . Hotel Mozart is a small 3-star hotel which kind of suited my desire of not being overwhelmed in anticipation of the rate. Although I have booked in advance in the same hotel as required by the Italian embassy back in Riyadh , it was a shared room with two other members from the group. For now, I will be booking for a single room out of my own pockets. A goodlooking male receptionist along with his equally attractive female colleague were manning the counter. “Preggo Signore! “ saluted the young man. By this time, I have already figured out that preggo could mean “welcome” or “come in” or things of that nature. After explaining to them that I was supposed to be with a group and we have already booked for a night only after two days from now, it was clear to them that I will be paying for my own bills only until then. They quoted me a 60 Euro/ night for a single room- bed and breakfast. I was too tired to think whether it was a reasonable price or not (in retrospect, it was indeed cheaper compared to the others). I was given a key with a big and solid brass metal which seemed to me weighed like a little less than a kilo. Either that or its just too large and heavy enough for you to carry around so you would definitely not forget to leave it in the counter before you go out of the hotel. Embossed on the plate is the number “501” my room number. The bellboy led me to the lift which was way too small for 4 persons as indicated in the control panel. The way up to the fifth floor seemed like eternity. With the elevator’s cramped space and slow motion made it even harder to breathe for someone like me who’s got claustrophobic tendencies. A soft “ding!” indicated that we’re finally on the floor. The door split open at a snail’s pace and even before it fully opened, I was already halfway through.

My room is just about a couple of doors away from the elevator.

"...on one corner is a glass cubicle obviously where you take a shower ..."

My room is just about a couple of doors away from the elevator. The hallway is carpeted with green and fractals of criss-crossed lines complimenting the cream colored walls and doors. The bellboy left as soon as we arrived at the door. As I opened the door, I would go through a (3-steps) narrow way leading to the bed. To the left is the bathroom which I inspected first, clean of course complete with towels of different sizes (makes me wonder how much towels do you need in a day?). There were small containers of shampoo, conditioner, small packets of soap- the usual stuff you’d find in a hotel. There’s a wall-mounted hair dryer and on one corner is a glass cubicle obviously where you take a shower and opposite is the medium-sized bathtub halfway covered with swivel glass instead of shower curtain. In totality, it was impressive enough I thought. Next thing, I was belly flat as if I was unloading my weariness to the bed. The split-type air conditioner at arms length just below the window was off and after moments of tinkering with the control panel, it wouldn’t turn on. I called the desk and learned that they don’t operate air conditioners at this cold season. Right, perhaps I just felt warm because I’ve been walking for hours but I need to feel a little motion of air or I would feel suffocated so I pulled the two-panel drapes on opposite sides and opened the window. They were right it was indeed cold and the cold, crisp air gently seeped its way through the open window giving me the ventilation that I so desperately need. As I lay on the single bed, my eyes roamed freely on the four corners of the small room. It was presentable enough for me. There’s a small closet (with a safebox inside) on the left corner at the foot of the bed.

"Everything was just perfect, promising me a sound sleep later on."

 The dresser is actually one piece with the closet and has a marble table top and on it is a small 14-inch tv monitor. A mirror is fixed on the wall and on top of it is a small elegant lamp. Everything was just perfect, promising me a sound sleep later on. The time on my cellphone flashed 7:45pm, an hour earlier than Saudi Arabia time. No wonder I was hungry, I ate nothing the whole day aside from the panini earlier this afternoon. Unfortunately, there’s no room service for the hotel serves breakfast only so I decided to go out and check where to eat to close the long day I had. Along the street where the hotel is located are small bars, small restos, pizza stands. As I passed by the small bar, there was a drunk Italian lady who stopped my tracks and was trying to pull me inside the bar. I was dumb-founded although it wasn’t actually a scary situation, I just wasn’t expecting it and I have gone through enough during the day. Her friends came out and pulled her back to the bar and one of which came up to me and said the words “scuza signore” nicely. It’s OK, I;ve gone through worse and hopefully that was the last for the day. I wanted to stick around the pizza shop but in the hopes of not having anymore complications, unlikely situations or any other unexpected moments, I decided to just take the pizza to my room. I sat on the bed with my back against the soft, padded headboard. The TV was showing America ’s Next Top Model dubbed in Italian. I checked the rest of the channels and the rest are dubbed in Italian so I lost my interest. I was already full eventhough I haven’t even finished my second slice of the ultra-thin yet super-large slice of pizza. I was just too tired to even examine what I was eating. I took a warm bath and before I knew it, I was already dozing off. The following morning, I woke up to a cold breeze gently blowing at my face. It was too cold that I couldn’t even muster enough courage to get out from under the warm comforter and walk towards the window to close it- I did anyway, I had to. I was up anyway so I headed to the shower and had a nice, invigorating warm bath. It felt even colder when I stepped out of the shower and I was literally shaking as I reached for the dryer like it was a life-saving device. The hot air it blew felt nice on my wet and cold skin. Soon enough I was warm and dry enough to get back to the bed room and dress up for breakfast. There were two old couples with me on the elevator ride talking in a familiar American accent about how small their room was as we descend down to the breakfast buffet at the lower ground of the hotel. I was expecting pasta will be one of the items on the buffet table but there was none, not even one. There were breads, different kinds of breads, crackers. mortadella, salami, different kinds of cheese, different kinds of fruit jam in a disposable single serve containers and a lot of fresh fruits. On the other side is a longer buffet table with cereals, milk, coffee/capuccino urn salads, teas and cakes. I stuffed myself with almost everything before I headed back to my room to get my small bag with which I can put my wallet, passport, cellphone and camera. I left the room key with the same guy at the frontdesk who booked me in last night- the lady was no longer with him.

 

The Italian Interlude Part 2- Lost In Loretto

The thudding sound of the wheels against the blocks-laid sidewalk vociferously resonated as I yank the trolley bag along one of the streets of the Loretto District (if I may call it such).  I looked around and there is nothing Italy about this place I thought.  In fact, it seemed like I was somewhere in Malaté  (somewhere in Manila ) for that matter.  Aside from the narrow streets, among the things I noticed in that area are: (1)  There were fewer than few taxis that roam around (you will find a couple of them in taxi stops)  (2)  Private cars are mostly that of the mini-hatchbck types.  (3)  People get around in bicycles.  (4)  The public transportation are trams  and buses that look like trams.  The trams run on tracks laid on the same road where cars and other vehicles pass.  At first sight, I found the tracks to be a little complex than the usual two-way tracks I’ve been accustomed to.  It seemed to me that one track splits into about three or four more at the intersections.  The metro ordeal was enough for me at the moment and another ride would yield another risk so I decided to just walk again- the safest way to do at the moment.  There were mostly coffee shops and bars along the stretch that I was trudging.  And by the next block I would find similar establishments and some others like panini shops, kiosks and the like.  Canopies are common in almost all the shops- now that’s Italian (or French perhaps? I don’t know).  The signage of every establishment bearing Italian names, words, taglines and all tells me that I am not somewhere in the Middle East.  Having worked in Saudi Arabia for over 7 years, I got used to seeing (not reading, mind you) Arabic texts everywhere.  At least where I am at the moment, I can read what’s written and somehow comprehend the message it conveys like the signs on driveways says: “Passo Carabille”.  For one thing, I thought passo and the English word pass could are one and the same and carabille could mean car.  Ergo, this is where a car passes and therefore must not be blocked.  At that point in time, my feet were already tired but there was nothing else to do but walk  and walk until I figure something out.  Which hotel should I stay and which  one  is within my means. I didn’t know where to go, and was too shy to ask around.  In as much as I was literally lost, I was starting to feel desperate as the air got colder everytime as the sunset is halfway through.  I started praying and asked the Lord for strength and rational thinking.  “Attenzione!”  an old folk (seated with some others) in one of the outdoor tables of a coffee shop hollered as her hand gestured me to stop.  So I stopped… she was smiling while pointing at my shoes.  It so happened that I was about to step on a dog poop.  I took in a luxurious deep breath and exhaled a sincere “grazie mille!” and a smile (good thing I read one of those “common Italian phrases”).  She answered back in Italian not losing the smile on her face.  Whatever it was, I knew she meant “you’re welcome” and so I headed on my way.  It would have been another burden (and shame) walking around with a dog poop all over my shoes.  And oh while were at it, one more thing noticeable among them is their love for dogs.  You would see a lot of residents walking their dogs- big and small alike (later on I will find out that it goes the same for those in the tourist spots area and mainly in the city center of Milan ).  At that time it was already about 6:30 in the evening.  It’s been over  5 hours of wandering about from the time I got off the bus in Milano Centrale to where I was standing right now.  My aching feet and strained calves adds to the panic type of disposition I am currently in.  Right now, I am supposed to be either in a hotel in Riva del Garda or in the the ampitheater watching the chorale contest.  We are not booked in a hotel in Milan until after two days more as part of the actual itinerary.  I sent a text message to Marlo back in Riva, the  group’s president and asked for the address of the hotel in Milan where we have reserved for 19 persons.  The only thing I know is that the hotel name is Hotel Mozart.  I decided to just book in  the same hotel until they get here.  The message tone hasn’t even finished beeping as I hurriedly opened the inbox of my cellphone.  Marlo’s message reads:  HOTEL MOZART, PIAZZA GERUSALEMME MILAN ITALY . That was it and the next thing I know I was already seated at the back of an odd looking cab which I couldn’t figure out whether it’s a car or a mini-SUV or both.  I didn’t have to say the address to the cab driver.  He knew where the particular hotel was and as we were on our way, I thought that it was the best thing that ever happened to me on that day.  Fifteen minutes later, the taxi pulled over in front of a building with a neon sign that says HOTEL MOZART.

 

The Italian Interlude Part 1: The Malady at Malpensa

I was still in a hazy daze as the alarm rang at 5:45 in the morning.  For a moment, I was clueless as to which hotel room I was.  The yellow-faced steel wall clock was the same as what I have, there’s a mini picture frame of my mom amongst the small cute thingies on the wall-mounted shelf.  The 14-inch boob tube was upgraded to a 42-inch piano black flatscreen on the rack by the foot end of the bed and why on earth is my laptop lying on that desk? I don’t remember bringing it along this trip?  When I got to my senses I figured out that I was in fact in the confines of my own room- I couldn’t go wrong.  I’m no longer in a hotel somewhere in Italy . I am indeed back in Saudi Arabia no longer a tourist but as a regular  employee in an engineering firm.  Eight days ago, I was in Malpensa International Airport with a trolley bag I just borrowed. The actual purpose of me being in Italy was to be with an all-Filipino choir (as spectator) who would be competing in Riva del Garda but thanks to Saudia Airlines for my cancelled booking.  Long story short,

"...but wait till you get inside, you will be impressed at how they got to preserve the vintage façade while inside would be every urban facility you could find in a train station..."

 I got left behind and had to get another flight and all. First issue in mind was how to get to Milan from Malpensa and fortunately, there were buses by the airport dropping passengers to Milan Central Station. The bus ride from the airport to Milan was about 45 minutes. It was then that I learned through an Italian taxi driver that Riva del Garda was about 300kms (at least) from Milan – a three-hour train ride or a whopping 350 Euro on the taxi meter.  At the moment, the logical thing to do was to stay in Milan and make the most out of the situation.  I walked around the huge station which from the outside seemed like an old Roman structure but wait till you get  inside, you will be impressed at how they got to preserve the vintage façade while inside would be every urban facility you could find in a train station- escalators, automated self-service biglietteria (ticket-vendo machines),  souvenir shops, fashion boutiques and the like.  The use of public toilets will cost you 1 euro in the coin slot of the turnstile.  Interiors of the station flaunt giant billboards of designer brands such as that of David and Victoria Beckham in their Armani skimpy underwears.  I practically spent hours just going about the details of the station.  At one point I was looking at the LED-illuminated screens flashing the schedules of different train routes of the trenitalia and it occurred to me that this is not just an average inter-city station.  Milano Centrale was in fact more of a hub to neighboring Schengen States such as Paris , Frankfurt and Lugano among others and must therefore be one of the major landmarks in Milan .  I didn’t want to go outside for the air was rather chilly eventhough I was already bored and hungry.  Yet the aroma of cappucino and some other italian treats by the kiosks that continually permeates from the outside breeze made me give in.  As I was approaching the nearest refreshments stand I was figuring out what to say to the vendor like shall I start with “Buongiorno!”?  I highly doubt that they speak English and even if they do, I was sure that it would not be enough for us to understand each other.  Good thing though, the food in the displays are labelled- name and price.  The man exclaimed “preggo!” as soon as I got there and I smiled back sheepishly.  “Uhm, one panini please”,  I was pointing at the enticing sandwhich with mortadella, some greens, tomatoes and cheese tagged at 3 Euros.  He answered me in Italian and the only thing I understood was the part where he said “uno?” So I said “si!”.  I asked for a bottled water and he asked me if I wanted naturale or frizzante.  I wasn’t sure what the latter was but definitely I wanted a natural water to drink. 

You can purchase tickets at the self-service biglietteria.

Soon I would realize that in Italy , you either drink the natural water or the sparkling/carbonated frizzante.  Meanwhile, the panini was tasty and was already enough at that time.  I was more excited to get to… I really don’t know where.  As soon as I was done with my little snack I decided to get to the other end of the station and just by the exit, there was a stair leading to the subway.  Good thing the panini man gave me a few coins as cambio.  I dropped a few into the biglietteria and got a ticket.  But to where? I wasn’t sure actually.  One thing I do know, it was worth unlimited stops provided you don’t go out of the turnstile.  From the map on the platform wall there were Linea’ s 1, 2 and 3 – all three trains of different routes inter-connected to each other.  I tried to go through it (like I’m really good at maps) but the longer I look at it, the more complicated it gets.  For whatever its worth I left the map and got on the train and perhaps where most people get off, that’s where I should be.  The metro is an average commuter train which is a little wider than what we have back in the Manila .  It runs underground while ours run on overpass tracks.  Some stops are crowded and some are not.  The actual coach I was in was crowded with passengers- daily commuters and tourists alike with back packs and trolley bags even bigger than what I had.  What a relief, it would have been an awkward moment if it were only me.  For a while back there, I didn’t feel different or at least I wasn’t the center of attraction being the only one.  Few stops later, a lot of people got off the station called Loretto.  “Oh well, I guess this is my stop” I said to myself.  The deciding factor was rather ridiculous, yet it didn’t strike me as funny for I didn’t know where I was for crying out loud. 

To be continued…