Travelogue 11: Milan and London
This European chapter of the New Era comes to an end with a four-week stay in Milan and one week in London. 165 days—five months and twelve days in Europe. It has been fun, interesting and, of course, somewhat tiring. Most of the time it has felt like a vacation that never ends: discovering new countries, cultures, cities, customs and ways of being, and naturally comparing them with my own country and culture.
Although this account is about the last six weeks, I want to begin it with a reflection on what I have discovered and rediscovered over these nearly six months. Europe is a region of the world that fascinates me. It is difficult to define why, but perhaps it is what the Germans call Ganzheit, that which emerges from the sum of all its integrated elements: cultures, languages, history, architecture, art, music, literature, et al. I do not mean the inventory of its elements, Gesamtheit, but what their integration produces. Something like the saying that “the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”
Over these months I have thought about this a great deal, and I have thought a great deal about Europe as a concept. Why can we group it together so neatly? Perhaps only Latin America could be grouped with the same clarity. That, too, is difficult to describe: a je ne sais quoi that makes Europe European and Latin America Latin American. How is it possible to group France with Armenia, or Germany with Malta? What is the cement that binds that whole together? The spread of Christianity? The Crusades? Western music? The world wars? One could not even argue that it is the linguistic basis, because different alphabets coexist alongside languages that differ greatly from one another; there are more than 250 languages in the region. Religion is not an ideal argument either, because Catholics are not the same as Protestants, Orthodox Christians or Anglicans, and there are also large numbers of Jews, Muslims, agnostics and atheists. Perhaps it is a sense of shared history, a feeling that what one nation or region is results from what other nations or regions have done. I do not know.
What I do know is that, for all I love Europe, I have found that it has essentially the same problems we do. The same concerns, conflicts, political complexity, fears, insecurities, hang-ups, desires, frustrations, pleasures and tastes that Latin Americans in general, and Mexicans in particular, have. I have been surprised to encounter the same populist narratives, the exploitation of the same fears, the same hollow promises, the same empty consumerism and the same level of ignorance. It is not that I used to think Europeans had none of this, or that I idealized them—which I did not—but that I have confirmed it by having more than just a few weeks a year to travel through that part of the world.
My perspective has broadened considerably by moving beyond Central Europe toward the Balkans and the Caucasus. I now have a more comprehensive view, a fuller account of what Europe is. And I still have so much left to discover…
I could say that the highlights of the trip were how well I felt I fit in Paris, the natural beauty of Herzegovina, the familiarity I felt with Serbia, the cultural beauty of Armenia, how naturally Italian comes to me and the profound admiration I feel for London.
Overall, as far as languages are concerned, this time I was able to speak considerably more French, both in France and in Switzerland, and I felt very good about it. I need to learn more and work more on my pronunciation, but I think I have made considerable progress; I can, let’s say, manage most daily interactions without too much difficulty. I felt even better with Italian; it is a language I enjoy a great deal and feel much more confident using. This time I made it my goal to use Italian exclusively and almost succeeded; there were a couple of occasions when people heard me speaking Spanish with Nydia and addressed me in Spanish, but in general I conducted almost all my interactions in Italian. Even when I reached immigration in Milan, I arrived speaking Italian and was asked whether I spoke it. For a moment I felt a pit in my stomach, but I said yes and was able to answer every question, so I started off on the right foot.
Every time I visit Europe—and even more so now, after living there for almost six months—I realize how well Mexico fares in terms of its level of development and quality of life. The lamentable events of recent years have reversed much of what we had gained over decades, but even so I think it is time for most Mexicans to rid themselves of the idea that Mexico is a country barely managing to stay afloat. I truly do not feel that living in Europe changes my quality of life very much compared with how I live in Mexico. There are only a few small things one might say are better in Europe, and we had the vast majority of them in Mexico… we simply lost them during these last eight nightmarish years.
After this brief reflection, let us move on to the main subject: my stay in these last European cities.
Milan
“Do not go to Milan” is what most people who have visited it will tell you. Tourists complain a great deal that there is nothing to see and nothing to do. I feel less and less like a tourist. Some people distinguish between being a tourist and being a traveler. For a long time I found that distinction a little ridiculous, but I have begun to understand and accept it. Tourists generally want to go from one monument or place of interest to another, take lots of photographs and continue on to the next city. They are not very interested in absorbing the essence of the place they are visiting.
Milan is definitely not a city for tourists, but travelers can appreciate it. Living there for a month revealed it to me as a beautiful and comfortable city to live in. It feels like an Italian city without feeling like an open-air museum, as happens with Rome or Florence.
The neighborhood where I lived for four weeks was Isola, in northern Milan near Porta Garibaldi. I would say it is a good location, in that many tourist attractions are within walking distance while most of the people who live in the area are locals; it is, however, too covered in graffiti for my taste. Other nearby areas where I went about my daily life were Zara, La Fontana and Porta Nuova. The last of these is an area with modern residential and office buildings, a park and a complex containing a shopping center, offices, apartments and a hotel. From my neighborhood I would run toward Porta Nuova, then cross Porta Garibaldi and San Marco, reach Parco Sempione and run around it, also running the length of Corso Sempione and back.
My favorite areas were Zona Magenta—the whole area around Via Lorenzo Mascheroni on the way to CityLife—, the areas of Porta Venezia and Porta Monforte, where the Quadrilatero del Silenzio is located, and Brera and Cinque Vie in the center. Naturally, I got to know more areas by walking one way or another, such as Chinatown, the area around Milano Centrale station, Navigli and the entire area around the Duomo.
I can say that I came away with considerable knowledge of Milan and a good impression of it. While I was in the city I learned a great deal about its history during the Renaissance: everything that happened before, during and after Ludovico Sforza, and the time Leonardo da Vinci and Donato Bramante spent in the city.
There are many beautiful things in Milan; of course, the Duomo and the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II are what everyone knows. But two in particular caught my attention the most. I greatly enjoyed the Castello Sforzesco in Parco Sempione. It is a fortress converted into a palace, with a truly unique aesthetic because it combines the style of a medieval castle with that of a Renaissance palace; it is also made of brick and has many details featuring the “biscione” that the Sforza family adopted in their heraldry. Another place I loved visiting was the Pinacoteca Ambrosiana—this one in particular, more than the Pinacoteca di Brera—because it is simply a very beautiful building. There were very few people there on the day and at the time we visited, and exploring it beside Nydia felt like a genuine privilege. The Cimitero Monumentale also deserves a special mention: a historic cemetery that we greatly enjoyed walking through, despite doing so during the hottest part of the day.
That is one thing I could say I did not like about Milan, or about the other Italian cities I have visited in general: the heat. I find the humid heat of Italian summers unbearable; it keeps me in a constant state of distress.
One more stereotype for the list of falsehoods: Milan does not strike me in the least as the fashion capital. Aside from a few shops in what they call the Quadrilatero della moda, Milan is far less of a fashion capital than major cities such as Paris or London.
Bergamo
We made a day trip to Bergamo, a medieval city in Lombardy—the region whose capital is Milan—and a must-see in the region because of its beauty and distinctive character. The city is divided into two parts: one is the Città Alta (upper city), which sits on top of a hill and is surrounded by Venetian walls (Bergamo was part of the Republic of Venice for several centuries) that have been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Around that hill lies the other part of Bergamo, the Città Bassa (lower city), the modern, more commercial area. Although this part is not the main tourist attraction, it is very beautiful. It struck me as a small city where one could live very well, with lovely streets, good public spaces and green areas. The part that is touristy, the Città Alta, is very picturesque: cobbled lanes, old buildings, many churches, public squares… everything one expects to find in a medieval city. I wholeheartedly recommend making this visit.
Verona
This city is more famous and more touristy than the previous one. We visited it as well and were pleasantly surprised. It is larger and flatter, but truly beautiful and picturesque. There are many more shops, restaurants, cafés, wine bars and hotels. Verona is also home to the Verona Arena, a large Roman amphitheater from the first century, famous for its open-air concerts and operas.
The city is also famous as the setting of Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare’s celebrated play. Because of this, there are many cafés and restaurants with names related to the play, as well as museums/experiences such as Juliet’s House and Romeo’s House, which are nothing more than tourist traps for unsuspecting visitors who do not know that the story of Romeo and Juliet is a work of fiction written by an Englishman. Besides, the city needs none of those shams to be truly romantic all by itself.
It is also full of castles, small palaces and medieval churches, but its streets are a little wider, flatter and straighter than those of Bergamo or other cities of that kind. It is easy to see how this was once a center of great political and economic importance. A city that remains beautiful and striking.
Cremona
This was a somewhat unusual visit, since Cremona is not really a very touristy city. We went exclusively to see a Caravaggio painting in person at the Museo Civico “Ala Ponzone.” For years I have made it my goal to see as many works by Caravaggio in person as I can, because he is one of my favorite painters and I find his story fascinating. To date I have seen 37, and I went to Cremona precisely to see one of them. I even have a website recording all the paintings I have seen.
The only thing that makes this city famous is not the Caravaggio it possesses, but violin making; Cremona is even considered the historic heart of lutherie—the art of handcrafting bowed string instruments. In 2012, UNESCO declared Cremona’s violin craftsmanship Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. Antonio Stradivari, the most famous luthier in history, came from this city and created some 1,100 instruments (known as Stradivarius), of which around 650 survive, celebrated for their unparalleled sound.
One thing that surprised me on this visit was Cremona Cathedral, which I found extraordinarily beautiful both inside and out and very distinctive in style: a combination of Romanesque and Renaissance architecture. I think I would say I like it more than Milan’s Duomo, but that is an entirely subjective opinion.
London
After the four weeks we had planned in Milan came to an end, Nydia and I traveled to London for a week to celebrate our anniversary. London is an incredible city; this visit deepened my infatuation with it. I am not quite sure how to describe it, but to me it feels like the pinnacle of civilization: there is something in its neighborhoods full of identical yet beautiful houses, in its canals with long barges, in its contemporary sculptural buildings, in the voice announcing Tube stations, in its parks, in police uniforms; there is something that feels old and new at once. There is even something in the pubs, something in the multiculturalism, the anonymity of the streets, the integration of public and private spaces, the way London is at the same time one city and many.
Returning to a city you love is an enchanting experience. Walking along the streets you like, anticipating whether the next street will be the one you think you remember, going to eat the things you enjoy, returning to the places where you were happy. In a city as large as London in particular, there is a double pleasure because things feel familiar and at the same time you continue to discover new ones. The street you thought you knew well shows you a new face that you had previously overlooked.
It was also, in a way, a relief to return to a language I master after months in other countries. Although I can do many things in French, Italian and Portuguese, I am very far from mastering those languages. And in other countries where I use English to communicate, there is always a gap between other people’s command of the language—which can vary greatly—and mine, in addition to the many accents one encounters; so I speak very basic English to make sure I am understood. In London, being able to speak fluently, always understand and always be understood has been a kind of respite. It is tiring to be in places where one feels unable to express oneself 100%.
I have felt this a little in Paris, but much more in London: the only downside of the city, I feel, is the tourists. I know how paradoxical it sounds for a tourist to complain about tourists, but as I said earlier, it is now impossible to deny the difference between tourists and travelers. Those unhappy families crowding the pavements of Westminster Bridge without knowing what to see, why they should see it or what for, on their way—at best—to the London Eye or—at worst—to the Shrek experience, are exasperating. On one occasion Nydia and I took Tower Bridge toward South Bank to eat, an ordinary walk except that halfway across they closed the way to raise the bridge and let a boat pass. A minor inconvenience in a normal world, but an unpleasant spectacle in a world full of tourists: people squeezing together, stupefied, staring at their phone screens to capture a photograph or video of the raised bridge as though it were some historic event. And yes, of course I have visited all the tourist attractions (actually not all of them; I have taste) and taken a thousand photographs, but there is a kind of incivility characteristic of the average tourist in which I have never participated. That kind of tourist would be happier going to a beach resort or Disneyland; I do not know what the hell they are doing on the streets of London, Paris or Barcelona. Incidentally, there are tourists and then there are tourists; for example, those one sees in the Balkans or the Caucasus are more experienced tourists, or at least people with more unusual interests.
Yes, we visited some museums this time because I cannot live without them; yes, we took some photographs of Big Ben and Tower Bridge. But most of this week was spent simply walking through the streets of Paddington, Marylebone, Mayfair, Belgravia, Knightsbridge, Notting Hill, Bloomsbury, Holborn, St. Katharine’s & Wapping and Waterloo. Simply walking is a pleasure; no, not a pleasure: a luxury. Walking and looking at the streets, the houses, the buildings, the trees, the people. Walking and reading the names of the streets, the parks, the squares. Getting lost, knowing you have never passed that way before and perhaps never will again. Walking is also free, good for one’s health and can take as much time as one wishes. This brings me back to my diatribe about tourists: a checklist of monuments is the least interesting way to get to know a city; losing yourself in it is living the real city; turning a corner and finding something unexpected or something familiar is the true experience of travel.
Conclusions
There are not many conclusions to draw about Milan; almost everything has been said. The Milanese are more attentive and cordial than the Romans, that much is true. Likewise, there is not much more to say about London.
My conclusions are instead about these months in Europe. My fascination with the continent began in adolescence, first because there was a Videocentro on the corner of my street when I was in middle school. At the time, Videocentro (a Blockbuster-like chain we had in Mexico before Blockbuster arrived) had a special European cinema section and a special membership that let you rent films from that section at a lower price than regular films. I went every afternoon and rented two or three films (on VHS at the time), and every afternoon my true education—the one that came not from school but from European films—was delivered to me through a VCR. Extremely strange Polish films, sex-filled French ones, unbearably boring Russian ones, bizarre German ones, nudity-laden Italian ones and profoundly deep Spanish ones. I do not know whether I saw them all; perhaps I did. The people at Videocentro knew me by then, which is why they let me rent films rated C. The films were so different from American ones that there had to be something different in Europe, something Europeans had over there that made them different, more interesting, more cultured, freer. Later, when I was in high school, I discovered Rick Steves’ Europe travel program on PBS and my fascination with the continent grew; I began to see it not as a place where one ought to have been born, but as a place one could go and visit.
After several previous trips, I now had the opportunity to spend a few months traveling around Europe and, more importantly, through some of its more remote, less touristy parts—places that many people do not even understand are part of Europe, or why. It has been an experience that has filled my mind and nourished my spirit. I have learned, I have understood and I have been left with more questions and doubts. I would love to speak to my middle-school self and tell him everything he would do in the future, tell him that Europe is not seen in black and white, that it is not full of naked Frenchwomen or German boys with tin drums. That it is a region of the world concentrating such cultural diversity that it produces something beyond the sum of its parts. A Ganzheit.