Summer in the City

As I’ve said on numerous occasions before Milan is a great place to get out of. Its prime location puts it within easy reach of any number of very nice places and given that temperatures recently have been up there in the mid twenties, any opportunity at all to get out of the city is just too good to miss. So given that littleitalyblogspot is closing down let's get out of Milan one last time.

Sicily being a little too far to go to in one day and back, we decided to head west across the River Ticino and combine a trip to what the Italians call an Outlet shopping centre with an afternoon at what we refer to as an open air swimming pool. Heading west (or south for that matter) I'm constantly amazed to see, as far as the eye can, paddy fields a-plenty. At times the impression is more Cambodia rather than the outskirts of what is after all Italy's most industrial city. Surprised to hear that? I was too. I still am. But then again, when you think about it, why should we be? Risotto is not one of Italy's national dishes for nothing.

In the rice department Milan has been self-sufficient for years. Of very good quality it has stood its ground against cheaper and lesser imports coming in from overseas, which these days is saying something, isn't it? It has even managed to survive the inconvenient truth of Al Gore's climate change expose.

While his very convincing data showed remarkable changes in the sun's magnetic activity over the last 100,000 years, the climate here in Lombardia has remained much the same. That being, hot, wet and damp. That making it the perfect conditions for rice growing.

On the down side one thing climate change hasn't yet managed to kill off is mosquitoes. So as we approach summer and the temperatures start to rise, that least wanted of all God's creatures starts to rear its ugly head. The strain that inhabits the northern plain of Italy (Pianura Padana) is a particularly brutal and resilient version. Such is the extent of the problem that Milan city council has put aside something like Euro 1.5 million to fight it, which reflects in real terms a 25% increase in the budget.

A collective force of helicopters, jeeps, spray guns and thirty boats, amounting to more than Winston Churchill sent to Normandy, will be used in the campaign. Since February two raids have already been carried out, targeting unsuspecting adult mosquitoes as they slept. A couple of months back helicopters swept across the rice fields and at the same time man-holes on the streets were removed and incubating eggs sprayed with the equivalent of mosquito Agent Orange. A full clean up operation in city and suburban green areas is pending, subject to further analysis of the situation.

A job well done? Well maybe not quite yet. It seems a woman in Florence took a bad turn and ended up in hospital. It turns out that she has malaria apparently picked up in Milan either, we're told, from an insect bite or a dodgy blood transfusion. Mmmm! Tricky one. For all our sakes let's hope it was the blood transfusion. On a personal level I have to say I hate the things. (Remind me why they exist, again.)

Despite having built some level of resistance I remain allergic to them, which means that in almost fifteen years, between the hours of nine and ten I've never left the house. Except for last night that is, when covered with autan, I ventured into the town centre to see a concert of Irish music and dancers.

I mean, what on earth was I thinking? Two minutes into the first song, something about Finnigan's Wake if I remember right, it was the like the Battle of Britain. They were all over me. Surrounded I had no choice but to cover my tracks and bid farewell to the Caledonian Companions leaving them with their red hair and pale skins at the mercy of what is surely God's biggest ever mistake.

Black or White

It goes without saying, but since last week more details have inevitably emerged about the costumes Michael Jackson planned to wear in his This Is It tour. His stylists and costume designers had set out to re-create his iconic looks for each of the 26 songs on the set list. For "Thriller" that meant of course a red leather jacket. But not satisfied with that, Jackson wanted to "take it to the next level," so fiber-optic lights were sewn into the jacket. As he moved around audiences would also have enjoyed a surprise light show timed to the music.

That's the thing I like about fashion. You know exactly where you are, don't you? There are no ifs and buts. No grey areas. You are either in or you are out. According to Jackson's stylists 'Michael was a fashion icon and most definitely in.' When it comes to fashion models Caucasian models, especially Russian and mid Europeans, are also most definitely in. However, according to critics of the fashion industry, black models are most definitely not. In a business that is all about the money, when all is said and done the main financial concern is that consumers will resist products using black models. Apart from a token few, black models strutting their stuff on the catwalk are a rarity. Black models on front covers of magazines are even harder to come by.

Barack Obama's high profile presidency has helped to once again raise public awareness of such delicate issues. Said to be inspired by this whole thing, you may remember that this time last year the Editor in Chief of Italian Vogue dedicated the entire July issue to the subject. Personally I tend to remember it more for Steven Meisel's beautiful photographs rather than the magazine's political message. Famous for Madonna's controversial Sex book, Meisel was commissioned to fill over 100 pages with black models. In it the photos were, fortunately for us, a little more tasteful than the ones he did for Madonna's book and include no one apparently chewing the ass of some hunk in a jock strap.

Cynics rightly suggest that while black may be the in colour at the moment, little is likely to change any time soon. Leading black figures including model Naomi Campbell, designers and agents frequently make the point that the fashion business has if anything grown increasingly discriminatory, with levels of exposure for black women among the lowest since the early 1960s. In response several big names even formed a pressure group in New York in an effort to highlight the problem.

While Italian Vogue's all-black issue hit the street twelve months ago with a wardrobe full of optimism, the industry would appear to have had a year of missed opportunities. Following its publication and the subsequent raising of awareness things would obviously change, wouldn't they? Things would move on, right? Wrong! Of the most prominent and influential Milanese shows this year any opportunity to take any kind of real step forward was mostly wasted.

Of all the major shows this year, three of them, Giorgio Armani, Marni and Jil Sander had no Black or Asian models at all. Gucci and Prada had less than a handful between them. I mean really, in Italian Vogue's backyard you would have thought that things would be looking a little bit better than this, wouldn't you? It seems that when all is said and done, Michael Jackson would have had a better chance of getting himself up on the catwalk. So tell me once again who's bad?

Getting out of Milan (again and again)

Readers of this blog are constantly being reminded that Milan is a great place to get out of, in the sense that it's well located and within easy reach of any number of very nice places. Leaving the city to the west is much the same as leaving it to the south. In both directions the landscape is flat and full of paddy fields. The only noticeable difference, to me at least, is that in heading south you cross the Po, whereas heading west you cross the Ticino.

Whatever the case, immense rivers both of them. On the other hand should you decide to head east then the road will brazenly take you through what is for me some of the worst industrial planning known to man. That is until you finally reach signs for Lake Garda at which point the landscape changes into exactly the opposite. In between the two there is a place called Bergamo, above which there is Sopra Bergamo, which roughly translated basically means, above Bergamo, so no mystery there.

Whichever way you want to set your compass the success of your day out in my book depends on three basic things; finding something to do, finding something to see and finding something to eat. Apart from being an area of outstanding natural beauty, there can't, in all honesty, have been much to do in and around the area above or beyond Bergamo. Not until 1512 that is.

That's when on 2nd July, at 4 o' clock in the afternoon the Virgin Mary put in an unexpected appearance. That being the day she cured the previously incurable eye disorder of the lowly shepherdess Petruccia. From then on the once out of the way village of Frassino, near the in middle of nowhere Oneta, established itself on the religious map of the world as Santuario Madonna del Frassino and never looked back.

In return for this minor miracle all the Virgin asked was that locals build themselves a church. This they did, it has to be said, in breathtaking fashion. Admittedly at nearly 900 metres above sea level it is a little remote. But having said that it is a sanctuary after all and as such by definition such places tend to be a little off the beaten track. In the pursuit of solitude that is to be expected.

What wasn't to be expected was that next to it would be such a very, very nice restaurant. What was even more baffling was at that time of the day, half way up a mountain, it was absolutely full. Amazing isn't it? I remember recently watching an ernest BBC World reporter asking Pru Leith what the secret of a good restaurant is. No secret she said. it's simply a question of Location, location and location. Clearly the owners of this place never saw that interview.

How steady business is , is frankly, hard to say. The proprietors pointed out that during the high season, that being June, July and August, things were pretty brisk, whereas during the off season it was better to call ahead. Reasonable enough, so for exact details on opening times all year round email: ristorante.frassino@libero.it That same piece of advice is equally true of the church. It schedules only two services a week, one on Wednesday afternoon and the other on Sunday evening.

Mind you if, like us, you feel like organising a group visit, Don Giovanni may well put in a special Saturday afternoon shift just for you. But getting back to the restaurant. The food on offer is described as cucina tipica bergamasca. If you've got any ability at all for this translation business you'll know that this means Typical food from the Bergamo area. What they don't tell you is that it's, a lot of food from the Bergamo area.

And what do I mean by that? Well, what I mean is that lunch starts at twelve prompt and finishes sometime around three thirty. That means you start with an antipasto of salami and two types of ham. This is then followed by grilled vegetables and something along the the lines of a deep fried omelet. As if that wasn't enough you are then presented with a first course, two first courses actually, of risotto (artichoke) and pasta (tagliatelle).

Moving on to the secondo piatto or second course there was a light dish, I don't think, of braised meat and mushrooms along with a beef casserole and polenta. Before finishing off with a really wonderful apple tart, there was a lemon sorbet in between. All this was washed down with wine, oddly enough from Piemonte, not local at all and digested with a large measure of grappa. After all that, all that was left to do was let gravity do its job and take you back down the hill to the car park.

One more cup of coffee for the road...

It never ceases to amaze just how quick people are to pick up on the habits and eccentricities of others, while at the same time being totally ignorant and unaware of their own. An Italian colleague, recently back from a trip to London, was genuinely bemused about the relationship that the English have with tea. How much of it do they drink? he asked shrugging his shoulders and rolling his eyes.




To be honest I've no idea. Figures published by the Foreign & Commonwealth Office suggest that on average tea drinkers consume more than eight cups a day but who's to say how accurate figures like that are? Based on my own experience I know my mother drinks about six a day, so in fact eight may not be too wide of the mark. In any case what really strikes me as odd here is not the quantity drunk, but the fact that anyone in the Foreign Office could be bothered enough to count.

But getting back to my colleague. Has it really never occurred to him to ask how many cups of coffee your average Italian needs to make it through the day? I don't know the answer to that question either but I do know it's a lot. Too many in my view. No matter how much you might like it, drinking eight to ten cups a day can't be doing you any good, can it? Especially if it's the stuff that comes out of those vending machines companies like to install in their offices. Myself, I make do with two, maybe three. A cappucino in the morning, a cafe machiato after lunch and an espresso late in the afternoon just to perk up sagging energy levels.

A routine visit to a coffee bar is of course one of the rituals and real niceties of Italian life. Luckily for bar owners their livelihoods don't depend on me and my measly three cups. But even then, in wandering round the city, it always amazes me how a population of only two and half million can support so many of them. They're everywhere. You could try counting them but that's like counting spectators at a football game. Once you get to five you may as well just give up and go straight to many.

But whichever bar you do finally choose to go to, there is etiquette and there is protocol. No matter how much you might want to buck the system, the system has down through the years remained intact and in place. It starts with breakfast. Figures recently published show that 60% of all Italians have a sit down breakfast before leaving home. Me, I'm not one of them. Personally I can't get out of the house quick enough. Breakfast is a great time of day and I don't want to miss a second of it. A cappuccino and a brioche is the norm.

In the city centre you are spoilt for choice. Which bar you choose pretty much depends on which way you walk to work. Your route becomes your routine and your choice of bar becomes your local. While it's almost impossible to get a bad cup of coffee some brands are recognised as being better than others. Illy and Lavazza are generally considered to be a cut above the rest.

Which one you are drinking is usually indicated on a board swinging outside the front door or on the bag of ground beans stuffed upside down into the top of the gaggia. As well as coffee bars you might run across things calling themselves torrefazione. These grind their beans directly from open sacks propped up round the shop floor. If you like the smell of freshly ground coffee you'll love these.

In complete contrast to the open sack spit and sawdust approach, there is the Nespresso approach. Nespresso's front man, George Clooney, would obviously never be seen dead anywhere near an old sack of Brazilian beans. Still polishing its image however and still trying to establish itself firmly in the Milanese market place, Nespresso's outlets are still limited in numbers. But the product is swish and the individual containers that the coffee comes in are trim, really great looking and single, a lot like the people who drink it.

To help you find your way here are some of the most popular options you can order at a Bar:

• Caffe' or espresso made with less water is very concentrated.


• Caffe' lungo is made with more water even though the amount of coffee is the same. Caffe' lungo is still served in small cups.


• Cappuccino is an espresso with milk served in a large cup and with foam on top.


• Caffe' macchiato is an espresso with a drop of milk and foam on top.


• Latte macchiato (not to be confused with caffe’ macchiato) is a glass of milk with a drop of coffee.


• Caffe’ latte is a foamless espresso to which some warm milk has been added.


• Caffe' americano is a very diluted espresso served in a large cup.


• Caffe' corretto is an espresso with a shot of liquor (usually Grappa or another liquor of your choice).
  
• Caffe' Hag is a decaffeinated espresso.


• Marocchino is a mix of coffee, cocoa and milk.

Whatever your taste, a word of warning. That protocol I mentioned earlier? Well, it insists that cappucino is drunk only up until eleven o'clock in the morning. After that it's time for something else and whatever that something else is, it is never drunk with a meal but after. Wandering into a bar looking lost and out of place is just not what you want to be doing either, is it?

Take a tip from one that knows. Make your mind up before you go in. Do you, for example, want to stand or do you want to sit? Only you can decide that. Yes, there's a price difference but that's hardly the point. The point is knowing what you want. Staring into glass display cases while wagging your finger at delicious looking pastries (pasticcini) doesn't really help either. Not knowing the language you are as likely to get a cannoncini with a strawberry on the top as you are the sfogliatelle you thought you were pointing at. But whatever happens don't be intimidated and don't be put off. One thing I have learned is that it's almost impossible to get a bad cup of coffee, especially when it comes in a cup as nice as this.

Bye Bye Mr. Berlusconi...

You've heard the one about Margaret Thatcher and her cabinet ministers going out for lunch, haven't you? Back in her heyday, 1984, in a London restaurant the waiter arrived with menus and politely asked: What can I get you today, Prime Minister? I'll have the steak, she replied. And for the vegetables? Oh, they'll have steak as well. If that's what she thought of her own conservative party, God only knows what she thought of Labour's left wing opposition.

As Thatcher reigned supreme, the period of time that passed between 1979 and 1990 was not such a good one for the socialists. I bring this up only because I had much the same feeling this week, which again was not such a good one for the left. It was particularly bad for those trying to get themselves elected to the European Parliament. Tired voters steered Europe even further to the right, as parties occupying the centre-right made ground at the expense of the left. Even far-right parties made gains, as turnout figures across the EU plunged to 43%, which turned out to be the lowest since elections began 30 years ago. Back in 1979 for instance 62% of Europe's electorate happily made their way to the polls.

But then having said that does the fact that socialist parties such as the UK's Labour Party, Germany's Social Democrats and France's Socialist Party were forced to bite the bullet and swallow such historic defeats actually surprise anyone? I mean, in this day and age does anyone, apart from socialists that is and a hand full of university students, actually believe socialism still works? Evidently not the EU electorate, who it seem prefer parties and by extension leaders that reflect and respond to their everyday concerns. These being soring costs, uncontrolled immigration and what was that again, the legalised sharing of Internet files? At least that's what everyday concerns amount to in Sweden, where the Swedish Pirate Party won 7% of the national vote, which translates to having won one of the country's 18 seats in the European Parliament.

Here in Italy the trend was much the same. One time cruise ship singer turned Prime Minister, Silvio Berlusconi, managed to hold on to his job despite public derision at his recent antics. Past gaffs are well documented. New ones include a recent divorce announcement, a ticking off by Queen Elizabeth ll and a public row over his friendship with an 18-year-old model photographed here on the left.

This was followed by the publication in Spain of photographs showing topless women running around at his villa on his own personal desert island, that's Sardinia to you and me. Mr. Berlusconi dismissed it all as a storm in tea cup merely designed to coincide with the elections, which he won with 35% of the votes. Victorious but well below predictions.

Over in Britain there is no such flamboyance. Fat chance. There dull, dour Gordon Brown plods on somehow hanging on to his job by the skin of his teeth, despite clearly being the worst PM in living memory and then some. In Europe Labour suffered its worst post-war election result, beaten dismally into third place by the Torys and something calling itself the UKIP.

Brown admitted what was obvious to everyone when he said: Labour had suffered a painful defeat. But ominously added: I will not waver. I will not walk away. I will get on with the job. Some say the swing to the right is just a flash in the pan. It's nothing more than a wake up call. Humph! If only he would.

So there we have it. A week of Euro-politics in a nutshell. Of its main protagonists what's there to say about ship mates Silvio Berlusconi and Gordon Brown? Well, politically they are right and left. Monetarily they are opposite sides of the same coin. Metaphorically they are chalk and cheese.

They're not the same, they're not. But then when it comes to being vegetables, just like Maggie's ministers, they are most definitely peas in a pod. They are birds of a feather flocking together. The pair of them depending on stupid people to keep them in a job. But before we do finally wake up and decide it's off with their heads, let them eat steak.

Can I Just Ask You Something?

As a foreigner living in a foreign country I'm often asked what it is I miss most about being in England. To be honest not a difficult question. Apart from the obvious things like my friends, family and decent beer, I really don't miss that much. With maybe the exception of English gardens that is. Terraces and balconies, as nice as they are, are just not the same as gardens. They're not even close to being the same.

Plants reared in terracotta pots are in many ways a little like the people who live here, always over-heating and in a state of constant water deprivation. So, sitting here looking around my baking hot terrace with a dry martini cocktail in my hand, what can I say about such plants and such pots? Well, I can say I'm frequently complemented on how nice the terrace looks and, being English, the assumption is that it's me who has the pollice verde (Italy's equivalent of green fingers).

Naturally I do nothing to stop people thinking that. I mean, what's the point in having stereotypes if you can't occasionally benefit from them? Of course close up none of them stand up to the kind of scrutiny that lasts but maybe in some over simplified kind of way we like to think that there's just a grain a truth in them. Sufficient enough so that in situations like this, what we say might just shed some light on or add something to the whole terrace vs garden thing.

It's much the same thing when it comes to providing help and information. Flattering though it is, it's hard not to disappoint when visiting Italians on their way to London discover that I don't in fact know every square inch of it like the back of my hand. Being a long week-end, this week-end was no different. Which pub sells the best jacket potatoes at lunchtime? Or, what's the name of that shop near Camden Market bridge? You know, the one that sells those nice leather bags? In all the time I've been here I can't imagine what would make anyone think I would know the answer to either of those two questions.

However, the question I liked the most was the last. A mixed group of ten, this week off to London for the week-end, were intending to spend most of their time, on my say so, in the parks. This was their question. But if it's really sunny what we can we do to get out of the heat? You have to laugh, haven't you? Despite Al Gore and the awful threat of climate change the English, as far as I know, have never had to confront that kind of problem. Fat chance! Nevertheless, it is quite an interesting question. What would they do in the event of a heatwave?

A mixed group of adults and children? Mmmmm! I've got just the thing. Madame Tussuad's. Well, I thought it was just the thing until I checked online the prices. Nearly thirty euros a ticket? Admittedly multiplied by ten everything starts to look expensive, even jacket potatoes, but even so three hundred euros for a tour of wax work models? Ouch! If you're not already put off check out http://www.madametussauds.com/

Perhaps better off going to choice number two on the list. The National Portrait Gallery. http://www.npg.org.uk/ Not as much fun perhaps but full of cool rooms, free and with over 120,000 portraits on show enough to keep you occupied for days. Failing that coming in at number three would be the British Museum. Again free and as far as young kids are concerned it probably gets the nod over the NPG. http://www.britishmuseum.org/

So there you have it. In London, in the heat, the English would have plenty to do. But given that this week in Milan temperatures have been as high as 40 degrees, that's centigrade by the way, what would we do? Well the Cathedral in Piazza Duomo would no doubt do the trick. With all that marble it's as cool as a tomb and to be honest, about as much fun. Kids and churches just don't mix. If you've got your family in tow, you'd be better advised to pop into the Mondadori Superstore on Vittorio Emanuele. Not as good as the Via Marghera branch mind you, but if you're desperate it'll suffice.

Air conditioned, but not to the point where it chills you to the bone. Just cool enough to accommodate an impressive range of the Apple computer professional series on show, which entertained me no end. Done with that you might go up the second floor. Amongst the books this is the place to chill out. No hi-tech here. Just squeaky leather armchairs full of people sitting around reading best sellers. And no need to worry about the kids. They've got an entire area dedicated exclusively to them. I watched one kid there amuse himself for nearly twenty minutes reading a book called The Sounds of the City.

OK in the grand scale of things twenty minutes is not exactly a lifetime, it isn't. But as far as the concentration span of a four year old goes, it's an eternity. Curious to see what the appeal was I waited another ten minutes before he finally put it down. It was big book. One of those thick cardboard things designed for kids with, as yet, underdeveloped motor skills.

The pages were glossy and full of familiar pictures painted in familiar colours. To the left of the page was a bright yellow plastic xylophone. On it were pasted simple pictures of, yeah you've guessed it, fire engines, ambulances, police cars etc etc. Just the slightest touch on any of them and there you had it, all the sounds of the city for less than ten euros, right there in front of you. With all this who needs Nintendo?

Arrivederci Paolo

Writing this blog at about the same time last year the word was that Italian footballing legend, Paolo Maldini, was about to retire from the game. Maldini having spent his entire career with one club, AC Milan, had made more appearances for the team than any other player. In total he had appeared in eight Champions League finals and played for his country 126 times. That made him Italy's most capped player. Clearly if anyone deserved to hang up his boots it was him.

As it happened the word, fortunately for us, turned out to be no more than heresay and against the odds Maldini turned up for yet another season at the San Siro. But one year on time waits for no man. This weekend, against Fiorentina, Maldini definitely plays his last game before retiring at the age of 40. Beyond the day we left school, running around a football field is something most of us can now only dream about. Running around a field, with number 3 on your back, as captain of AC Milan at the age of 40, is beyond even our wildest of dreams.

Compared to some players in the modern game and their often inconspicuous 'talent' Maldini is by any measure an outstanding individual and clearly way beyond the norm. His retirement will leave a gap that is not likely to be filled any time soon. Which makes the reaction of Milanese supporters this week all the more bewildering.

Last Sunday’s clash against AS Roma had been billed as a celebration of the defender's 24 years as a player for the club. However after the visitors inflicted a 3-2 defeat on Maldini and his team-mates, things began to go pear shaped as a section of fans started to jeer him before unfurling derogatory banners criticising him.

In Wednesday's Gazzetta dello Sport Maldini's response was predictable. In an interview he lashed out at club officials who had failed miserably to respond in any way to the incident. "I'm disappointed with the club's silence. I'm not happy that they didn't take a stance," he said. "So far there hasn't been one single statement, no official has spoken out ... I think a team like Milan should disassociate itself from things like this."

Maldini played in his 901st game for Milan against Roma and after what had obvioisly been a disappointing match he went on a customary lap of honour around the stadium. While the vast majority of fans rightly applauded him, the idiot element decided to chant the name of former captain and Maldini’s predecessor, Franco Baresi.

Some fans even waved banners criticising Maldini over an incident in 2005 when the defender hit out at a section of fans who had jeered his team when they failed to hold onto a 3-0 lead against Liverpool in the Champions League final in Istanbul, which they eventually lost on penalties. Maldini admitted his San Siro swansong left him a little bruised. "I was hurt. 70,000 people cheered me, instead 500 wanted to ruin the party."

Having said nothing about the crowd, the club were quick to respond to Maldini’s disappointment as vice-president Adriano Galliani published a letter on the club's website. In it he said: "I've read your comments and understand your bitterness. On this occasion I believed and still do believe that silence is the most efficient weapon against such disgraceful behaviour."

Yeah, right. Whatever! The trouble with morons, especially the footballing variety, is that they just don’t know when to shut up, do they? Next season there will be other players, God knows the way they’ve played this year they'll need them. Along the way there will certainly be other vice-presidents but there is and always will be only one Paolo Maldini. So, get used to it. In the meantime, arrivederci Paolo and thank you.