Up North!

Where the trains are faster and the mountains are bigger

My only memory of Milan was bad, 5€ pizza. More than five years ago, I was only in Milan for less than a day but I have held a grudge ever since. Plus, my Italian cousins boldly do not like Milan. My cousin once said if he moved to Milan that he “might as well leave Italy.’

Milan has a bad rap, especially among southern Italians, because it is cold, has poor air quality, and is crowded. Therefore, less (classically) Italian . While it absolutely does embody these three poor qualities, coming from a small town, Milan felt like such a big city experience.  Rather unconventionally, it felt like a respite from sleepy Viterbo.  

This time, I had such a wonderful time there. I couldn’t help being swept up in the city. I found Milan reminded me a lot of Paris (this could be influenced by some television I have been watching…). Milan is composed of concentric semi-circles, and while some say “Milan is just the duomo,” I found the architecture outside the center to be rather interesting. As we went through the city on the tram, I noticed apartment buildings decorated with scrolls, faces, and eye-catching edges, and shop fronts with colorful block-letter names. 

Perhaps it is the abundance of trams, buses, and the metro that allowed me to experience so much in such a short period of time. Milan has this grand, high fashion center that spills into lines of apartments and finally the suburbs. It is also so flat and I felt very envious of the runners weaving through crowds and in parks. 

I spent one evening in Chinatown with a friend and had perhaps the best Chinese food that I have ever eaten. Dumplings (ravioli cinesi in italian), this wonderful, flavorful crepe, and bubble tea. I stocked up on ramen, sriracha, tahini, and sesame candy, things nowhere to be found at my local Conad City grocery store. We tried some fresh, homemade mochi that was filled with cream and fresh mango. The decor and ambiance in each market and restaurant was so inviting and warm. As much as I love pasta, having new flavors and some spicy food was so welcome.

COMO

I see why some people call Como one of their favorite places in Italy. We took the train from Milan to Varenna and took a ferry to Bellagio. The views were consistently overwhelming– stretching from the shoreline to the mountains, and along the coast. You couldn’t capture it all in just one glance. There was so much grandness (mountains!) to look at and so many interesting details (sea glass!) in the periphery. 

Colorful, petite villages dot the edges of this absolutely massive lake. Especially at this time of year, with so few tourists, the villages were spilling over with personality and charm. 

We lucked out with such a sunny, cloud-free day. The air was just so crisp. Think apple picking in the fall crispness, skiing on fresh snow crispness. Now I can add Lake Como crispness to the weather repertoire. My friends and I joked that the air was so crisp and felt so healthy that it felt like a place doctors would send women in “the old days” to cure them of their fainting spells.

In classic Italian fashion, when we were looking for a restaurant a passerby pointed us in the direction of a trattoria on a side street. We had warming house wine (red, certo) and tried Pizzochieri pasta, a Lake Como specialty with buckwheat and cabbage. I’m adding it to my list of pastas I need to learn how to make. 

On rules:

Living in Italy has brought to light how much of a rule follower I am. I nearly had a heart attack when the polizia stopped me on a run the other day – they just wanted to know how many KM I had run. When I told them how many, one guy said about his partner, “he would die if he ran more than 1 kilometer!” 

Even in Milan, the most efficient place in Italy, no one pays for the Tram or Bus. You just get on and make space. When I asked my cousin how much the tram cost, he didn’t even know, and he and his girlfriend couldn’t decide if it was 1 or 2€. You do take a risk though – you can get a hefty fine if you get caught not paying. 

On a similar note, in Naples I became convinced that the drivers aren’t breaking the rules - there probably are just no rules. Because the roads are absolute chaos and lack rhyme or reason. 

On my train ride back from Milan, my seat was in carrozza (carriage) 5B. Obviously there was no carrozza 5B. I got onto carriage 5, hoping somehow it would sort itself out, but carriage 5 was the dining cart. Luckily, there were two other people stranded from 5B, and a conductor said, “This is strange,'' and just told us to head to the last carriage and choose a seat. I was so nervous about it that I finally caved and switched to English to assure I wouldn’t get thrown off the train. 

On the other hand, there are wonderful displays of social rule abiding. At local cafes, you walk up and order at the bar. After getting your drink, you can drink at the bar, at a table, or outside. But you almost never pay before ordering – and everyone comes back to pay. It’s just what you do. In the beginning I found this system confusing, but it has become more natural now. And, naturally, in bigger cities, you order and pay first, flipping the whole system on its head.

Spotted at the Roma Ostiense train station.

 Back in Viterbo, life has been less glamorous (George Clooney lives in Como, not Viterbo, for a reason). Because of COVID and exams, the university is very quiet these days. My friends spend their days and nights studying, usually at their parents' houses.

The stretches of sunny days have led to more cat sightings (scientific assessment here). There’s a stocky orange cat that surveys the lunch tables at work – the poor guy doesn’t know that the students are still remote. There’s also a sweet black cat who lingers near Osteria Salicicchia, a restaurant near my house. She’s rather slinky and is always weaving her way around anyone who walks by and meowing. Often outside the window of work, I see cats curled up on the sunny concrete walls nearby. In my next life, I’d like to be a cat in Viterbo– they’re remarkably well fed.

Just one of the work cats who ignores me

Post-holidays, I have resumed my weekly conversation sessions with my Italian tutor, Beatrice, who is unbelievably patient. Our conversations have been becoming more fluent (not perfect, don’t get too excited). But it has become one of my favorite evening rituals, as we have moved from stiff dialogue  into more casual conversation territory (re: Harry Potter and Emily in Paris). 

Even though Viterbo is small, the other evening I found myself on a side street that I had never walked, on the way to meet friends at a pizza restaurant that was new to me. The pizza is my new favorite in Viterbo (and less than 10 minutes from my apartment!)

Some Mini Updates:

• I've been to Tonnarello in Trastevere three times, no regrets. Their outdoor ambiance (fires and blankets) makes the dining experience almost feel normal, and the pasta served in a frying pan is wonderful. 

• Italians tend to have milky drinks in the morning but pure espresso after lunch. But to me, a milky afternoon drink while reading Il Corriere hits the spot. Perhaps it reveals me as an outsider, but it is worth the risk. 

• Speaking of Il Corriere: I read this paper or other local papers (il Messagio, TusciaUP) every day during my indulgent Italian lunch break. Much of the current coverage is COVID-related, but more recently focused on the Ukraine-Russia-Euro relationship. It is interesting to get the Italian and greater Euro perspective on the issue. This is not a political blog and I am no expert, so I will leave it at that. 

• It’s Sanremo Music Fesival! Watching this on RAI has been a truly wild experience. 

Next week, it may hit 61 degrees. Too early for il mare?

A presto,

Olivia