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Italy > Milan |
Mar 01 2002 |
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Santiago to Madrid, a thirteen hour flight means only one thing...Sleeping tablets. I arrived in
Madrid and somehow got on a plane to Milan. I checked some luggage into storage, though I
cannot quite recall if its in Italy or Spain. I just hope that I still have the docket...
Milan. My introduction was rude, jumping into a taxi I headed into the city, a hundred euros later I understood why the taxi drivers are really really helpful at the airport. Milan oozes style. eyes hide behind a myriad of sunglassses, with the oh so trendy clear lens look in full swing. Designer shoes, leather clad loungers strut with style and brand names pop out on every piece. Its the sort of place that makes you feel obliged to change sunglasses every two hours just to stay in vogue. Even the guy with his begging bowl was better dressed then I was. I went shopping, there was little choice. The Duamo. Wow. Rounding a corner, the full moon bright and the piazza empty I saw the Duamo. A huge, no gigantic, no gargantuan piece of marble magnificance. The eyes search for stability in the sea of spires and statues, more detail revealing itself with every glance. Saints and stories carved, marble blocks seamlessly join and built over 600 years make this a true testament to human engineering, grandeur and faith. To be among those laying the first blocks, with only a dream and a vision as to what would result.
The inside is cavernous, and though colourful stained glass windows glow on the sides, light gets lost here. Huge bare columns rise into the ceiling, splaying into claw like supports, it has a sombre eery feel, and the light makes it feel a little like a scene from aliens.
A blast of light as I leave huge bronze doors, each covred in bronze cast stories and I make my way to the Plaza big shopping thing. The mosaic floor is polished to a shine and smoothness only thousands of scuffling designer shoes can bring, cafes and shops line this dome filled complex, a treat for the eyes and for the hundreds of camera snapping tourists inside. One part of the floor has a mosaic bull, local tradition has it that if you spin with your foot three times on its balls you get good luck. A hole is worn in the tiles though the cement below, I doubt bull sees it in the same way.
Cobblestones, Cafes, chocolate filled croissants and coveted clothing, statues, shoes and style, Milan is a feast.
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