There is a feeling of exultation as you walk through the large, double paneled doors of a medieval church. Then there is the wonder one discovers as they step their toes onto the manicured lawns of a King’s former gardens, with its drooping trees and elaborate fountains. Or maybe shock and awe as you enter an ancient Roman theater, the rocks old with time and rain. Wherever we find ourselves while exploring there are those threshold moments, the crossing from this world into some other existence, some other time. Continue reading
The air in this place is thick, saturated, as if the dust of time stands in the sky. The sun comes through in a haze of soft light; the buildings assume an ornate and translucent quality. And all day we walk around as if in a daze, the sky colored in such a vague enchanting way. The reality? Milan(o) has almost no pollution regulation. The miraculous, movie-quality effects that filter down and through the ancient city are, in truth, the thick particles of car exhaust, suburb factory smoke, and the visible bustle and hum of a city at large. It puts the quaint smog of Los Angeles to shame.
The magical qualities of this fashionista cultural hub continue in all ways. The language lilts like doves skirting in low lying trees—Italians being arguably the loudest and most friendly of all Europeans. The food wafts from corner to corner and as our feet walk towards the inevitably gorgeous Piazza della Scala, we must pause in the pure beauty of this Northern Italian city. Continue reading