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Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Getting a Late Start This morning I awoke with the full intent of getting going early. Unfortunately, the hotel breakfast really wasn’t that good and it gave me a sour stomach, so I flitted about my hotel room until I was more at ease. It was 10:30 by the time I got to the Duomo. Following the signs to the ticket office, I purchased a full combo pass which allowed me entrance to the treasury and underground baptistery and the elevator to the roof. You still have to pay to take the stairs up, but knowing myself and how I fatigue easily in this heat, I figured I’d let technology do the work for me.
”Up on the Rooftops, Step in Time…” The tiny elevator opened up to a tiny passageway leading to the main roof terraces. I walked up and down several well-worn steps and then the rooftop view opened before me. Now, the rooftop is only enjoyable to those who have a real thing for buttresses and spires. I happen to find well-formed buttresses quite pleasing. There are two accesses to the roof; I took the North access, which was shaded. The sculptors
must have known people would be walking on the rooftops, or they were simply over achievers in their work. Some of the intricate details and statue figures could only be seen if you were on the roof itself.
Continuing on, I climbed more stairs which led to a terrace above the main entry of the cathedral and an intimate audience with the golden lady atop the church. There was even a bench of sorts built into the structure, facing the main spire, assumingly so people could gaze up to the golden figure. There was little shade on this section of the roof, so my stay here was brief. I had to fight through a hoard of Asian tourists to get back down the steps and back toward the elevator. One thing about the walkways on the roof – they’re one person wide and make two-way traffic very crowded.
What Part of “No” Don’t You Understand? Back on the street level, I veered toward the Duomo entrance. Along with official police, there were military guards in field uniforms monitoring the crowd entering the cathedral. A large group of undesirables (showing too much leg or shoulder) clustered unhappily in front
Sforza Castle Exhibits 1
Michelangelo’s last pietaof the doors. Every single guide book about Italy makes note of the fact that conservative attire is required. I skipped right through, having flung my sweater over my shoulders.
Duomo Interior Inside, it was dark. My photos are deceiving in that respect, and were taken on a setting which allowed lots of light to be captured. I paid €5 for the audio guide and left my driver’s license as insurance for my return. I found the guide wasn’t worth it, however. Some of the items listed were not accessible to tourists, or the descriptions were dry and not engaging. It would have been better to read up on the Duomo’s interior features before hand and enjoy the art as I toured through. A minor technicality.
I took my time to see the interior. Huge paintings hung over the pews, giving the look of a floating gallery. The cathedral was still in operation as a church, and I watched people light candles and pray, or fidget nervously before confession. The sculpture I liked the most was in the confessional area, blocked off so tourists only had a distant view. It was the Madonna and Child in marble with
gold crowns being placed on their heads by cherubs. Carved into the arched walls which housed the sculpture was the story of Mary’s life. The whole thing put together was empowering and belittling at the same time.
I’m not religious and the church’s art doesn’t move me spiritually. But I like it because it expresses the spirituality and history of the community who worships there. There’s a completely different tone when a confession booth sits below a fresco of a violent crucifixion, versus here, where a young Mary holds a squirming baby Christ with a look of patience. And this is what I look for when visiting churches and seeing this art in its natural setting.
Unnecessary Extras My admission ticket got me into the treasury and baptistery. Neither, I found, was worth the price of admission, and would actually be skippable even if they were free. The treasure had some nice artifacts, but nothing compared to what I’ve seen elsewhere. The baptistery is an excavated area below the Duomo, where the original church stood. It wasn’t exciting, even for me, who likes construction puzzles like this. There are much better ruins in other places, just not Milano.
Silent Prayers Outside, I walked past the multiple bronze doors leading into the cathedral. Some were clearly made in medieval times, with limited perspective or detail. The central doors, on the other hand, were breathtaking. Three dimensional panels told the entire story of Christ, from birth to assention. It was a powerful message – Christ was born and was a man, like everyone else, and died so the people could be standing here now, looking at these doors.
There were a few places where the bronze was shiny, and I wondered if this was from repairs. Some of the noses of the saints(?) were shiny. The hands of Mary and Christ were shiny on panel where Mary holds Christ’s hand, pleading as he departs for the crucifixion. And on a second panel, where Christ is being whipped by a Roman before being tied to the cross, both the Roman’s leg and Christ’s leg were shiny. But as I stood there, people would come up to the panels, and with a silent prayer touch one of the pieces mentioned. I thought it was interesting that those two panels in particular were important to the people. It was where they
could connect with Christ as a mortal, even as a bronze figure. It was very humbling and moving to watch.
Lunch and No Shopping Spending three hours with the Duomo worked up my appetite. By suggestion of Rick Steves, I went to the rooftop café of the Nordstrom-type store next to the Duomo. There were actually a series of cafes, some with terrace dining overlooking the cathedral. It was midday and hot; I ate inside. Lunch consisted of pasta salad, sparking water and espresso, all combined to be pleasantly filling. Afterward I browsed the store, and found it was above Nordstrom in price. I don’t shop at Nordstrom often, but I can things there for under $100. With the Euro-U.S. Dollar conversion, there wasn’t a single thing there under $100. No shopping in Milano for me.
Single Serving Friend Back in the piazza, I looked for someone to take my photo. The square was crowded with tourists, but it’s hard to spot someone who looks like they might be able to take a good photo (there are plenty who cannot). Fortune shined on me, and I bumped into a Chinese girl about my age who was also on
her own. We spent the next half hour moving around the piazza taking each other’s photos. And her skill was not bad at all. When I said how long I was going to be in Italy, she asked if I was a teacher or student, because no working person has that much time for vacation. Her English was very good, and she said she lived in Toronto for a few years. We chit-chatted about the weather and nothing important, and then parted ways to continue our own agendas. She was by far the nicest single serving friend I’ve had.
Sforza Castle, Full Speed Ahead Off to Sforza Castle. By now, the heat and humidity were really getting under my skin, and I was a walking puddle. The angle of the Sun made it difficult to find shade to walk in. I moved through the sunny spots with the same intensity as the actors ran from the dinosaurs in “Jurassic Park.” Because of this, I didn’t get many photos of the castle itself. The structure was massive, and as I said before, intimidating. Made of red brick, it was an old fortress, evident by the giant gates. It just gave
the impression of some tough guy flexing very large muscles. Inside the gate was a large (and all too sunny) courtyard. The paths were all river rock, which was uneven and uncomfortable to walk on.
I made it to the safety of the ticket office and collapsed in a sweaty mess on one of the benches. I was literally cooking inside, and I realized I needed to hydrate immediately. This may have been common sense, but realization is the most important part. After gulping down and entire bottle and a half of water, I was refreshed. My internal temperature came down, and I am sure my face changed from red back to its normal pink tone.
The Museum of Ancient Art Stalling in the lobby had a silver lining – it was at the hour when the museum offered free admission. Sweet! I had much more energy now, but limited time. There was a lot of rubble, chunks of Roman columns or alters. Medieval carvings, all of which were religious in subject matter. I liked the room with all the pre-renaissance tapestries. These things were ten feet high and maybe 15 feet wide. Even faded they were still
impressive.
My favorite room was the Ducal Chapel. Floating in front of a red 15th century textile, Madonna and Child sit perched on a throne supported by angels. This piece, while nice, is really only made powerful by a second statue, a girl with braided hair, standing in prayer across the room. The two together, the Madonna on the throne and the girl looking up to her, was captivating. The girl was life size and not much taller than me. I felt connected to her; she looked up at the throned figures with the same expression as I do. If she wasn’t stone and permanently frozen in prayer, I might have hugged her.
The museum’s big feature is Michelangelo’s last pieta. By definition, a pieta is where Mary is holding the dead body of Christ. Compared to the smooth marble surfaces of Michelangelo’s other sculptures, this was a shock to the system. The shapes were completely rough-cut, and you could see the chiseled marks where the artist was hacking away at the stone. But I’ve always wondered how Michelangelo took a hunk of rock and turned it into something that looked like it breathed, and this answered those
questions. The eyes were barely outlined. Christ originally leaned much further forward, but his body was redirected and propped up on Mary’s shoulder, which is made clear by the random floating third arm associated with the former body position. Although this is the grand finale for many, I returned back to the stone girl in the Ducal Chapel before leaving the museum.
My Mother Always Told Me Not to Talk to Strangers Back outside, I waded through the thick air to the triumphal arch. It looked very similar to the one in Paris, topped with horses and a chariot. The horses had their asses turned to Paris, however, as a sign that the people of Milano were not Napoleon fans.
I boarded the tram back to the hotel, tired and beat. I took one of the few seats available, but true to form, I took the wrong seat. My neighbor was someone’s greasy old uncle who thought I was just his type. I made the mistake of acknowledging him in the first place, which was apparently all the encouragement he needed. The man even followed me off the bus and half way down a block, but I dove
Duomo rooftop
Wide enough for one person, it serves passage for two-way people traffic. into a crowd of young people and escaped into my hotel. I wasn’t flattered. Now, if he had been some hot Armani model, his behavior might have been overlooked. As it was, I was forced to remember that to ignore someone is to be polite, and to acknowledge them is to be promiscuous.
Finito, Milano Returning to my room, I stripped off my soaked clothes and took a luxurious cold shower and passed out. When I woke up two hours later, I slowly collected my belongings while the fashion models walked across my TV screen.
In the battle of Stephanie versus Milano, I think Milano ended slightly ahead. There is more to see, as a tourist, but not enough to make this a return destination.
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