Milan is much larger scaled than most other cities in Italy. The duomo is huge, the train station is huge, the new airport is huge and the city itself is huge. Milan seems to be about everything but "la dolce far niente" - the sweetness of doing nothing.
The duomo in Milan is an outrageous, over-the-top gleaming white frosted cake of a church in the center of town. As is often the case with me, a mistake ended up being an advantage. I became lost while walking to the duomo from my hotel near the train station. As a result, by the time I had recovered I was past the piazza. I turned back and walked in the square to see the church looming in front of me, giving me the maximum visual impact. Had I followed the path I'd originally planned I would have approached the church from behind, losing a lot of that initial and oh-so-important "wow!" factor that I enjoy so much. I still remember how I felt the first time I saw the Colosseum in Rome and Notre Dame in Paris. That feeling of wonder and amazement I get when I see a magnificent building or artwork is why I keep going back to Europe.
The duomo is that rare architectural style - Italian Gothic. It has an amazing amount of stone sculptures decorating every surface. I went up to the roof to get a better look at them and the structure of the building. From the admittedly small sample size I observed I decided that every one of the decorative elements was unique, either as statues of saints or as decorative elements topped with various conifer cones, flower buds or blooms. The tops of the flying buttresses are lined with these things; there are dozens of elements per buttress segment and dozens upon dozens of buttress segments. That's a lot of flowers, buds and pine cones!
The interior is cavernous but not spectacular. Any visitor to Milan feels compelled to go inside, I suppose, but while it's a nice break from the heat of the day it's not the amazing sight the interior of Saint Peter's in Rome, Saint Paul's in London or even Notre Dame in Paris is. The Milan duomo is best appreciated and wondered at from the outside.
The fortezza (fortress) is at least as impressive as the duomo in it's own way. It's imposing hulk is just a few minutes away from the duomo square, but it feels miles away from the energy and hustle of the city itself. It dates from before the Renaissance, was bombed to smithereens in WWII, was rebuilt and today serves as the focal point of a large park in the center of town. The walls are 20 or so meters high and 3 meters thick in places. The courtyards it encompasses are as large as football pitches in some places. The interior of the fortress is dominated by dark red brick, but the outside near the main entrance gate is covered in lush green ivy.
It also seems to attract cute Hungarian girls who are having trouble locating items of interest on their city maps.
The Galleria follows the Parisian Rule of Iron and Glass Structures, which states that if you see a building made of iron or steel and glass then it is of the Victorian era. See my Paris trip write up for more information. The Galleria is a great shopping mall four stories high. It has shops that all of us would recognize by function if not by name - CDs and videos, jewelry, clothing, coffee, pastries and McDonald's. It's laid out in a cross configuration, one arm of which opens onto the piazza del duomo. They make a cute couple, the duomo and the galleria. Totally different designs and totally different functions, yet they seem to get along well with each other.
I think we all could learn something from these two, don't you?
Editorial Comment: A lot of people find this page by searching for "Cinque Terra" on Altavista, but the name of the region is "Cinque Terre", "The Five Lands". "Terre" is plural for "terra." End of your Italian lesson
The Cinque Terre is a spectacular area of Italy on the Ligurian coast. If Italy is the boot we all say it is, the Ligurian coast is under the cuff on the side nearest France. Cinque Terre itself refers to five small fishing villages strung along the coast like pearls on a string. From north to south they are Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola and Riomaggiore. They are all linked by a train line that spends more time in tunnels than in daylight, a snakey road at the top of the mountains and a foot path that runs along the lower edge of the mountain sides. This footpath would play a major role in my vacation, as you will soon learn.
We drove from Torino to Levanto along a spectacular autostrada that inspired my first e-postcard. We parked at the Levanto train station and hopped on a train heading south. We arrived in Monterosso a few minutes later and emerged into a different world. Monterosso itself is not the best of these five towns; it is the most commercial and has the most touristy feel. We quickly found the hiking trail and began the long and in spots difficult hike to Vernazza, the most "Cinque Terre-ish" of the five.The trail was narrow, poorly maintained and in places very steep. I was not expecting this, but I enjoyed the exercise. Many times we had to yield to oncoming hikers by squeezing into any available small space that added 10 centimeters of width to the trail. It was an inconvenience but not a dangerous problem except and until we were stuck in a long narrow stretch of trial with nowhere to go and a line of hikers coming the other way. Foolishly, I opted to stand on the very outside edge of the trail to allow the others to pass, with a very steep 500 meter drop to the ocean below me, broken only by sticker bushes and other plants, with the occasional rocky ledge to stop me if I slipped off.
The first 2 people passed me carefully and with no incident. The third person, a German woman, accidentally brushed against me lightly as she passed. I shifted my weight slighly to compensate and then within moments the edge of the trail gave way under my left foot and down the hillside I went. I tumbled for a few meters before catching myself in a bush - a sticker bush, of course. As I struggled to get myself at least horizontal (I was pointed slightly head down), the German woman reached down to help me. I waved her off and reached up for my friend - the only one I'd trust in a situation like this. She knelt down, grabbed my outstretched hand and helped me back up to the trail head. Everyone else quickly passed me by stepping over me and I was finally able to stand up.
"Shit!", I said.
"Are you OK?" my friend asked.
"Yes, pretty much. But I've tweaked my ankle. I can walk on it, though."
And so we completed the hike into Vernazza with me dirty, sweaty and slightly limping. I was very fortunate that I was able to stop myself. I was also very glad she was with me to help me out. Unfortunately, my ankle was sore and weak for the rest of the trip. I was unable to run without pain, but I was able to walk OK after a day. I also had to make sure I always took that last long step down from the train to the platform on my good ankle. Twice I forgot and ended up in a heap on the concrete. I was wearing my bush stomper hiking boots, which gave me a lot more support. Without them it is likely I would have broken my ankle, or at least sprained it badly enough to require medical attention. I can't imagine how I would have gotten down to the town from where I was on the trail.
Vernazza is a great little town and the one most people agree has the most charm. As one descends the trail one ends up walking past numerous vineyards, complete with a tiny single track train the locals use to get the grapes to make the local sciacchetrà up the hillside. Eventually the trail drops into the town and intersects with the main street, which ends at the small harbour with the seven ship fishing fleet.
You can buy a glass of wine or beer at the restaurant on the waterfront and sit with it on the jetty. You can walk up a small side street to get a look at the sea or walk up the "main street" to get a gelato or to catch the train to the next town. You can find a restaurant and have a good meal of local seafood and wine. The smallness of it is unreal for me; I'm used to working in buildings larger than the entire town.
No matter how hard you try, though, you can't stress about anything, even a questionable ankle. We decided to hop on the train to the next town in line, Corniglia.
Corniglia (pronounced cor NEEL ya) does not sit on the rocky coast; it is set atop the hill. The train station is near sea level, so one must hike up to the town. The reward is a spectacular view nearly everywhere in town. Only after getting off the train did we think to check returning train times; the last one was not for several hours. Since I was still in US mode (having arrived only the day before) , I initially inwardly groaned at the thought of having to wait that long, but my friend put me in the right mood by saying, "Oh no, you mean we'll have to stay here for a while?!" The perfect thing to say.
We climbed up to the town's small piazza and wandered over to a nice-looking restaurant after checking out the town. We spent most of the evening there and when it came time to return to the train station I knew I was rapidly changing into Italia mode.
The next morning we drove along the road to Riomaggiore and walked to Manarola, a much easier hike. Riomaggiore is slightly larger than Vernazza and doesn't have quite the same ambience, however, the main street is very photogenic. We sat on the rocks in Manarola and enjoyed the Ligurian Sea for a while, ate a pizza in Riomaggiore and then drove back to Torino via La Spezia.
The Cinque Terre region is quite beautiful and charming. It is a UN World Heritage Site. The residents know they have something special and have fought attempts to open the region and make it more accessble. Those folks are smart; once a place like this is gone it is gone forever. Tourism is its mainstay now and unfortunately, the Let's Gos and Rick Steves have made the region famous throughout the world. I myself was inspired to go to Italy because I saw Rick Steve's Travels In Europe show on the Cinque Terre about 9 months ago and declared to my roommate at the time, "I'm there, dude!"
And I was.
"I didn't change, it was the empires that got small."
The Serene Empire of Venice was at one time the most powerful city-state in the Mediterranean. But, that was a long time ago, so long ago that that fact is now irrelevant. Now it exists because we, the world-travelling and European visiting and Italian touring public want it to.
Unlike pretty much any other city, Venice doesn't actually do anything. Oh, sure, you can go to a glass blowing factory or a lace making factory, but if that was all your city did, it wouldn't be a city very long, now would it? Venice, for all its fame, reminds me of Gloria Swanson's character in the film "Sunset Boulevard" still pining away for the "good old days" when she was a star.
Venice doesn't waste any time letting you know she's different. The approach to Venice is marked by a several kilometers long causeway, at the end of which is the Fascist era train station. Get off the train, walk down the track, through the station lobby and there it is, with nary a moment to spare or prepare - the Canale Grande. The vaporetti and water taxis are all there and even an occasional gondola glides by. Cross the bridge next to the station and you enter a world where no cars exist and the first floors of many buildings are moss-covered and abandoned. My friend and I spent a fair amount of time looking for abandoned buildings and floors. I'm not sure why (A friend who read this hypothesized, "Because you wanted to be squatters?").
That Venice is slowly sinking is quite evident. In many spots one too many steps drops into the water; the last step is covered with seaplants. Obviously at one time that step was at water level, now it's a foot or two below the water line at all times. Piazza San Marco will at times flood, too. Wooden walkway planks are placed across the piazza to allow foot traffic to proceed. At high tide water laps at the front doors of rich and poor alike.
Venice's power and prestige was gained by controlling land-based trade routes from Asia and the Middle East to Europe and vice versa. This was a good deal for many centuries, but then that lisping, fey, Muslim-convert-to-be Christoforo Colombo ruined everything by discovering the new world and pointing the way to the original world economy and free trade agreements across trackless oceans. By roughly the 1600's Venice was just cruising and living the party life while the rest of the world worked for a living. The scrappy French military dictator Napolean then proceeded to ruin everything by marching in one day without so much as a "How do you do?" or a "By your leave!" and wiped out the Republic of Venice with a stroke of the pen, very much like how he wiped out the Holy Roman Empire a few years later (reference my Vienna write up). Unfortunately for the reigning Doge there were no openings for a former city-state elected monarch like there was for a former Holy Roman Emperor. And I don't think Nappy used the same pen.
Since then the city has been on autopilot, just hangin' around like that guy you knew in college who never seemed to have a permanent address and wouldn't leave the party at the end of the night even though you would drop hints bigger than the Hindenburg on him. The tourists come and spend their money on rip-off glassblowing demos, buy glass trinkets in the shops and in the penultimate example of dorkiness purchase those cheesy little gondola figures to give to their friends back home. They visit St Mark's Basilica, the Doge's Palace and wander some of the backstreets if they are smart. If they aren't they drop $60 or $75 for a gondola ride. Meanwhile, Venice just smiles and sinks another .1 millimeters under their weight.
"We didn't need dialogue, we had faces"
Venice is built on mud and pine tree trunks sunk 5 meters into the lagoon mudbed. Many of these trees have been in the mud for at least a thousand years. As a result, not only have they had time to settle, they've had time to rot. We saw some examples of rotting pilings being removed and replaced, but that can only be done with pilings at the outside edges - it is impossible I'd think to get at any others, unless the floors were pulled up. Even then, getting the ones supporting the building foundations truly are impossible to reach. I am very surprised that the world's greatest anti-gravity research think-tank is not located in Venice or at least near by, because they definitely need that technology to get a lot of buildings fixed. I wonder what Steve Thomas and Norm Abrams of "This Old House" would think and do? The friend who hypothesized on our motives for looking for abandoned buildings said Steve and Norm would say "Start over!"
The main drag in Venice is the Grand Canal. The vaporetti cruise up and down the canal all day. A visitor can use the vaporetti to get a good idea of the old glory of Venice, since a great many palazzi are built along the canal itself. The heart of the city is without a doubt Piazza San Marco and it's centerpiece is Basilica San Marco. First built in 832 to hold the body of the "liberated" Saint Mark, who apparently had been held captive in Egypt for nearly 800 years, the church burned down in 976 during an uprising against a Doge. It wasn't until 1094 that it was reconsecrated. The front facade and nearly every square inch inside is covered with incredible medieval mosaics. The tiles are made of colored glass backed with gold foil. They gleam and sparkle even now, 1000 years after they were installed. The floor is an elaborate marble inlay that over the centuries has become quite uneven. The floor undulates because of the uneven rate of settling of the pylons upon which it's built.
The Ducal Palace is right next door. It is an interesting building, but is not as spectacular as one might think. It has burned several times and a lot of noteworthy and beautiful decorations, paintings and other works have been lost. The Great Council Hall is quite spectacular, though. The palace architecture shows elements of Byzantine as well as Gothic and Roman influences, demonstrating Venice's position as a bridge between both worlds.
"And now, Mr. De Mille, I'm ready for my close-up."
La Serenissima is unique, beautiful and doesn't even smell too bad. The backstreets and quiet waterways have a magical feel about them. It's not a brash, loud, "look at me!" kind of city. Not every city should be that way. Sometimes it's enough just to sit back, revel in the glory days now gone and remember the good times. Venice, the Most Serene One, has become an expert at that.
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