Remember that time a few months ago when I told you I was moving to Italy, how elated and sanguine my latest dream must have seemed. ‘HA, another whimsical English girl who wants to escape the rain and be fed tagliatelle by a red-blooded Latino who whispers sweet nothings to her for or so in order to find herself’, you must have thought. ‘Doesn’t she realise she needs to work?’ Well, you were right, sort of. I say sort of, because I don’t really work *yet*; but I do get fed, but an English boy from Bristol University who’s sofa I currently sleep on. I’m living the dream, just at times it’s not the original dream.
In the last two months, I’ve slept on sofas, floors, in hostels, lived for month in house with the most beautiful and charming Russian model, and in a chalet in Swiss Alps (never underestimate the inspiration the ending of The Sound of Music has when you encounter a Milanese landlord in a strop). Although I still have no money, and as yet very little work; and because this move seems, more often than not, the stupidest decision I’ve ever made, I’ve loved Milan, Italy and Italians. This city is a minuscule metropolis of fast emotions and slow walkers, your senses are drenched in the smell of strong coffee and cigarettes. As you gaze up from the Piazza del Duomo at the city’s tourist mecca, you are literally and figuratively swept up in a wave of accents, languages, emotions and 400 years of Renaissance architecture…
…Milan’s Duomo took more than four hundred years to complete, its vanilla-toned spikes and spears are a so intricate and delicate that it would take you far longer than the completion time to feel you’ve taken it all in at all.
With its high hipster/model – rest of the world ratio, Moscova in Milan is the place to go to people watch. A borough of glorious cobblestone streets, coffee shops, and quirky galleries and boutiques. Moscova is place to come on a sunny Spring day and spend some time and money. I’ve yet to see further than it’s most prominent streets, but I’m sure this is where I can find a taste of ‘real Italy’.
No first post about Italy would be complete without a mention of food, the rich, carb-laden treats the are available in every other shop are a delight for any stressed-out and walking wearing new addition to the city. The wine is cheap but the conversation is rich, as my Russian pal and I have discovered…
I couldn’t be in a better place to watch the world go by, which I have plenty of time to do. I may have limited employment and even more limited funds, but with the people I’ve met and sights I see at every turn, this city is able to inspire even the most fleeting image of a life that can be lived to full.
I’ll keep you posted more frequently from now on, I promise.
Ciao for now,