Milano Buy Some Shoes, Please!

Milano, Italy
January 8, 2011

My train to Milano, Italy departed the Lugano station at 7:39am. To ensure I didn't repeat the mistake of the previous morning I made sure to wake up an obscene amount of time too early so I would not miss my train. However, after staying out late into the early hours of the morning, having what turned out to be maybe one too many drinks, and a restless night of sleep due to the snoring of a fellow traveler in a neighboring bunkbed, my 6:00am alarm clock seemed like torture. I dragged my exhausted body out of bed and prepared myself for the next leg of my adventure. In hindsight, while sitting for an hour in the darkness at the train track in the rain, I realized I may have taken my worry of deja vu to an extreme. Once I boarded the train southbound to Italy I crawled up in a ball to retain any warmth my body could generate and took a nap.



Milano Centrale

 One short hour later, at 8:30am on the dot, I woke up at in Milano Centrale (Milan Central Station). I slowly gathered my things and got off the train to once again hunt down a map and a hostel. After wandering around the train station for about 30 minutes, wiping the sleep from my eyes and adjusting to consciousness, I found the visitor center. Yet again, with the smallest amount of information I could pry from the secrecy of the employee, I had a destination in the city. Now this is where things get a little comical as a direct result of lack of knowledge I received about Milano before being released into the city. What this certain individual failed to inform me was that it is about a mile and a half distance from the central station to the hostel - a short 7 minute subway ride costing a mere 1 Euro or a two hour walk carrying a 20lbs. backpack with exhausted legs from two days of nonstop walking and a sleepless night. Unfortunately, I experienced the latter. So around 11:00am (after losing my map somewhere along the way and having to track down another), I finally arrived at Hostel La Cordata. Despite being in a country rich of history, design, carbs, and wine I took a mental and physical break and napped in the common room for about an hour.

According to Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, after securing shelter, the next order of business: Lunch. Well, maybe not precisely "lunch" but it was the time of day and I had pizza on my mind. While heading towards the city center I was persuaded by a young Italian boy to try his little hole-in-the wall restaurant tucked away in an alley of deliciousness. I sat down at my table and ordered a grilled vegetable pizza. Unlike in the USA where it is common for people remove the grease from their pizza with their napkin to exclude themselves from the unhealthy American stereotype, in Italy, there was a big puddle of fresh olive oil poured atop my pizza - and I gladly ate it all.

Leonardo di Vinci

Galleria Virrorio Emanuelle II

Now that I had shed the 20lbs. of backpack weight at the hostel and gained back 20lbs. from eating delicious greasy Italian food, I began touristing. I first stumbled on a tall sculpture of Leonardo di Vinci. I can't describe the connection I feel to Leonardo di Vinci, but I hold the man with such high respect for making an undeniable impact on so many aspects of art, medicine, architecture, and technology. I felt honored to be standing in the presence of a tribute to the man. Beyond the statue was the Galleria Vittiorio Emanuelle II (1865). This double arcade is an incredible structure filled with boutiques from the most highly respected designers in the world (and McDonalds, of course). Both the interior and exterior architecture of this Galleria was so astonishing that there is no wonder it took 12 years to complete. The structure of the beautiful giant glass and cast iron dome suspended in the center was even used as inspiration for the Eiffel Tower. Just on the other side of the Galleria is the heart and soul of the city: Duomo di Milano.

In my previous attempts to convey the absolutely amazing things I have witnessed in my travels, I have written about the tiny cracks in the old architecture, the amazing repetition of the arc patterns in the cobblestone, and the transformation of the ordinary made extraordinary. However, as I am now reflecting on what I saw next in the midst of the holiday sale frenzy in Milan I am having a hard time finding the words that can remotely do justice to describing my experience.

As I reached the end of Galleria Vittiorio Emanuelle II, I caught my first glimpse of Duomo di Milano and my breath was immediately taken away. The feeling was so powerful that I literally forgot to breathe. It was almost as if I was scared to exhale because I wanted time to stand still until I could absorb and comprehend the perfection that was staring back at me. The vastness of the sheer size of the cathedral is enough to make you stumble on your own words. There is something violent about the harsh jagged edges created in the negative space surrounding the silhouette of the structure, yet the soft pink and white hues of the marble cushions the eye and draws your eye in towards the intricate details. Once you set aside the complexity of the design and focus on each component separately you are able to notice that each statue, motif, and pattern captures it's own personality and conveys an individuality that is completely different from the next. Each statue balanced on the building exterior is carved from marble with such detail and precision that if you let your imagination go the figure might just come to life. The vertical lines pointing to the heavens are repeated throughout the architecture and send a subliminal message of praise that is impossible to miss, though some people might not be able to decipher it.



Eventually, the swarms of people scurrying around the Palazzo slowly came back into focus and my out of body experience came to an end. I zigzagged through the masses of people who, to my utter astonishment, were going about life as if they weren't in the presence a masterpiece. I made my way to the front door of the cathedral, took a deep breath, and went inside. As the giant hand carved wooden door closed behind me I could swear the world stopped turning. All the problems, worries, stresses, and evil in the world disappeared. I am sure that anyone, whether Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, or atheist who has had the privilege of entering this cathedral can attest to the undeniable Holy presence in the building. As a tear streamed down my face I took my first step.



Everything that embodies my passion for design, architecture, art, human expression, spirituality, and religion was towering above me and had been here all along. It was as if somehow the architect had harnessed the powers of the heavens and captured the essence of righteousness in the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. Every direction I looked was something that I could have poured over for hours. In order to get a grasp on something, anything, I began my slow walk around the outer ring of the cathedral. I made sure to stop and carefully study each monument as I walked by so that I could absorb the energy that it radiated. I must have spent at least 3 or 4 hours exploring the church because when I left it was dark outside and time for dinner. To be honest, I could have easily spent the entirety of my time in Milan inside this cathedral focusing on every detail in each corner, praying, and simply sitting at the feet of God to rest in feeling of His comfort.

Perfection in a shoe

I headed back to the hostel to officially check into my room and find somewhere to have dinner. On my way home I accidentally wandered down the wrong street. Fortunately, it was a blessing in disguise because I ended up passing a shoe store that for some reason caught my eye. The next thing I knew, I found myself trying on shoes. Then, I saw them. The shoes I have always wanted. If you have seen the movie Wicker Park (I highly recommend it) then you know exactly what I'm talking about - black pumps with a bright red sole. I've seen the shoes many times before but always in the most expensive department stores and never costing less than $550. The shoes I found in this little store in the middle of Milan were only 39 Euros (about $50 USD). After finding the miniature size of 35 (size 5-1/2 USA), I snatched up the opportunity and bought the shoes on the spot. I now have them displayed on a shelf as art in my bedroom until I find an occasion worthy enough to wear them.

After getting settled in at the hostel, changing my clothes, and once again drying my socks from the rainy weather, I headed to the hostel office to ask for a restaurant suggestion to delite in classic Italian pasta. The next thing I knew, Alessandro as I came to learn was his name, asked to join me for dinner. Nervous about the romancing tendencies of the Italian male, I apprehensively said yes. He took me to this little mom and pop restaurant and proceeded to order the entire meal without consulting me, wine included. I have never had a man take charge in the situation like that and I must say it was a little unnerving. To my pleasant surprise what he ordered was actually quite delicious. We scarfed down our food while talking about love, naturally. I went out of my way a couple times to make sure he was aware that I was otherwise occupied by another man so he wouldn't try his suave moves on me. Although I had my guard up the whole night, it was nice to share a meal with a local. We split the bill and he walked me safely back to the hostel. As I gave him a "thank you" hug goodnight he snuck in a kiss on the cheek and then immediately apologized when he saw the stern look on my face. I crawled into bed early so I could get a good night sleep before continuing my Milano adventure in the morning.