Milan

“Un cappucino e biscotti” I say with my most convincing Italian accent. The barista answers something in Italian that I don’t quite understand. The gig is up and I admit to him that I can only communicate in either French or English. I love the way everything sounds sexier in Italian. I bet something as non-glamorous as “plucking an eyebrow” sounds divine in Italian. I reply grazie as he hands me my drink and cookie. I look out the window and I am thoroughly  impressed. I admire the way everyone, from the oldest seniors to the youngest toddlers, all have impeccable style and exude an aura of glamour and self awareness. I also find it slightly comical and refreshing the way that Italians expect tourists to speak Italian as opposed to Italians speaking English to the tourists. I take a break from looking out the window in order to map out my day. This is my very first time in Milan. As much as familiarity is pleasant (I do enjoy going to London and Paris and feeling no guilt towards my avoidance of all things touristy), there is nothing quite like exploring a new city for the first time. I mean, you never forget your first time right?

Whenever I travel to a new city, I always avoid the  cramming-as-much-tourist-attractions-as-you-can approach. That approach only achieves incredible fatigue and ensures that by museum closing time you end up having an early supper (alone in a restaurant since Europeans never eat before 8pm) and missing out on exploring the city after sunset. Also,  cramming all the attractions during your trip is basically like declaring  to the city that you intend on never returning to it. I like saying arriverdeci, which literally means “to seeing each other again”, as opposed to saying  goodbye to the new cities I encounter.

Using my phone and the complimentary wifi, I successfully map out my day, which includes a lot of shopping and the top two attractions I want to see. The rest can wait until next time. I eat the last bite of my delicious biscotti and head to the Duomo di Milano. It is the largest Gothic cathedral in the world and took over half a century to build. I find this quite heartbreaking since most people that took part in the building’s conception and creation never even got to witness the incredibly beautiful result. I personally really enjoy Gothic architecture. My love for that particular genre is mostly due to my unnatural obsession with Victor Hugo’s Notre Dame de Paris as a child, but can also be attributed to the style’s taboo origins. I adore that something once perceived as “barbarous” is now one of the most revered and appreciated architecture genres today. Life is truly all about perception.

I climb to the top of the observation deck and appreciate the superb view of the rooftops of Milan that contrast heavenly with the bright blue skies. As I head back down the stairs, I decide the perfect way to way to complement my miniature workout is to indulge in delicious Italian carbs. I head to Luini Panzerotti, a block away from the Duomo, and wait eagerly in line. This place is adored by visitors and locals alike and as such always has a queue that goes around the block. Once it is finally my turn, I am overwhelmed with the exquisite smells of baking bread. I order enough calezones to feed an entire family and find a nice step in the Piazza to enjoy my meal. Due to my lack of Italian speaking abilities and the hectic nature of Luini’s, my ordering technique consisted of pointing to various items on display without having a clue what they were. As a result, every bite is a delicious surprise.

On a very full stomach (I am very thankful for the loose maxi dress I am currently sporting), I head to the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele, a beautiful shopping arcade facing the Duomo. As I arrive in the center, I decide to step on the Bull of Turin’s testicles as it is supposed to bring you luck. I will be needing all the luck I can muster in order to avoid purchasing my way to a lifetime debt while browsing through Prada and Versace.

After the purchase of only one reasonably-priced leather bag , that I absolutely “needed” for school, I walk towards the Castello Sforzesco, a castle complete with a lovely courtyard. This tourist attraction was exceptionally appealing to me because it holds Michelangelo’s last sculpture; the Rondanini Pieta. Call me weird, but when I saw Michelangelo’s unfinished sculptures at the Uffizi Gallery as a young child, I developed an intense and genuine appreciation for all sculptures. A finished sculpture is evidently gorgeous but it is only when you witness an unfinished one can you truly take a peak inside the creator’s imagination and see the real beauty of something emerging from a slab of rock. To say the least, I was very excited to see the Rondanini Pieta.

I make my way slowly back to the hotel in order to switch into heels and add more dramatic makeup to my eyes.  After completing the transformation of my day-to-evening look, I walk back onto to the streets. Avoiding the cobble-stone at all costs, I delicately make my way  to meet a friend for dinner at Maio, a rooftop terrace restaurant right beside the Duomo. We order a glass of Moet & Chandon Rose to sip on while agreeing on the food we will consume in the interest of selecting the best Italian wine to complement our meal. As the sun completely disappears over the cathedral and I hear the animated Italian chatter surrounding me, I enjoy the last few sips of my flute of champagne and take all of this perfect moment in.