THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 22
How do we keep the joy? Laundry accumulated, bills in Canada need to be paid, no gym. Impossible to get a good nights sleep in squeaky bunkbed. Drilling bricks right outside our Airbnb starts early each morning. We are tired. We’ve been pushing hard. And to top that off, the modelling hasn’t happening for Chloe.
We decided the walking tour was so thorough that we could back away from history and sightseeing, shift the pace. Maybe shopping? It was Milan after all. Some music? A music festival to introduce and promote emerging artists was taking place throughout the city, for free. We wanted to slow down, do something different. And we did!
WALKING IN TURRO
We began the day searching for a gym in Turro. Milan is a city of extremes, the wealthy center – with expensive cars and fine clothing on parade – in stark contrast to how most people live. The people in Turro –or most of them –appear to be poor, or middle class. They live in small spaces, in buildings that are often rundown, spend little on clothing, and don’t have cars.
And they didn’t look particularly happy. On the train home the night before, around 7 PM, the cars were full of tired commuters. It’s different here than in Paris. Italians love to talk, whenever, wherever. They talk loudly in restaurants, on the train, but also anywhere into their phones. Texting is less popular than sending audio messages. Cultures vary so much. Also, it doesn’t seem as many people smoke in Milan as in Paris, and those who do, often roll their cigarettes. And Milan is indiscriminately covered in graffiti. In Paris, it is removed in areas. Not so much in Milan.
The gym didn’t work out – Italian gyms are private clubs with a minimum month-long membership. So we decided to do something entirely different…rent bikes. Now just a note, Chloe doesn’t like to ride bikes. She’s not done it much, even though we live in Vancouver!
DELICIOUS LUNCH AND RENTING MONSTER BIKES
We ate near the Genova metro station at a delicious restaurant called Simplemente. Surrounding us were fashionable Milanese, a table with lots of rowdy men and one woman, a few tables of stylish women and couples, one table with a very, tall blonde dressed in a gorgeous, oversized-black silk blouse and tight black pants. She ate alone and sending texts constantly. It was an all Italian, lively, high-energy crowd.
We purchased a day pass with Bike Milano, not the best bike company. The bikes were total clunkers and weighed a ton. Mobikes is better, but we were stuck with having purchased the pass in advance. Though the canal pathway where we would ride was only a block away, there was no way to ride there. Tram and car traffic, and a road of large stones crisscrossed with tram tracks made it too hard, so we dragged the heavy bikes to the canal.
RIDING BESIDE THE NAVIGLIO GRANDE
For the next 2 ½ hours, we rode along the Canal Naviglio Grande, from the Navigli neighborhood to Gaggiano and back. The ride started near the trendy Navigli area where new apartment complexes were under construction between five-story buildings from the 1800s and newer, architecturally experimental apartment complexes.
TRANSPORTED BY CHIESA SAN CRISTOFORO SUR NAVIGLIO
We parked our bikes and popped into the Chiesa San Christoforo sur Naviglio, an ancient, Romanesque church that was “updated” in the 13th C. when the Naviglio Grande was excavated. The wood beams, lingering smell of incense, silence created by the thick walls, cool, damp air, and faded frescos were transportive. Another time, history itself, wafted through our bodies. The delicate frescoes were particularly enticing, and I learned later that those in the apse were painted by artists from the Bernardino Luini’s school. Bernardino Luini was the artist who painted the frescos in the Chiesa di San Maurizio.
RIDING ON PAST FARMS AND FIELDS AND INDUSTRY
The pathway paralleled the canal and a highway. High buildings gave way to low-rise, concrete apartment complexes that reminded me of Poland, or council housing in Britain. Many of them were dilapidated. Traffic on the highway was steady, some drivers turning off to Venice, others toward Genoa.
Fields appeared. An old farm, painted ochre, was falling into ruin, its roof partially collapsed, trees growing inside it. Still it looked like the main building was lived in.
We passed a rundown power plant and a couple of old industrial sites. The ground around an abandoned industrial site was littered with rusted junk, buildings leaned. Loose electrical wires hung near trees. It stunk of the sewer, and fertilizer.
Further alon, private and communal farm plots, sectioned off for individual use, covered acres of land. Well-tended, some had winter lettuces and other winter vegetables growing. We thought about the difference between these farms and Vancouver hippy farms . Italians may love gardening for its own sake, but these plots clearly provided necessary vegetables. The idea of living off the land isn’t a fancy, but a necessity. I’m sure many Italians would love the option of buying what they eat and the leisure that provides.
TURNING AROUND IN GAGGIANO
Gaggiano has a charming little town center, built on either side of the canal and connected by bridges. Outside the center, faceless, graffiti-covered building complexes rise up on sparse landscaping, worn and dusty green spaces. I noticed handmade curtains handing in windows.
The sun was setting as we rode back, the day overcast but warmer than the last two days. Only a few people other people walked or rode bikes on the trail. A young man and a young woman kayaked in the canal. They seemed to be in training. There were also some crewers and a couple of rowing sites along the water. Nearing Navigli, a barge held some Venetian-style gondolas.
BACK TO THE NAVIGLI CENTER
We pushing our cumbersome bikes over the stone street to the cobbled, busy walking path on the other side. The Navigli sparkled with rows of dangling small white lights strung from one side to the other like a spider’s web. The reflected lights created this wondrous, festive feeling. Lively restaurants and cafes line the path. We walked to the end of the lights where we crossed a bridge and turned down a small side street. Two- and three-story old homes with wood-beamed ceilings, like in Venice, followed the road and a dry canal. We found the return station for our bikes then went back to the twinkling street where Chloe had a hot bubble tea and I had a glass of wine.
