Apartment key
I don’t see keys like this in the U.S. Anyone else?
This is my main apartment door key, although I have 4 to use by the time I get in: one at the sidewalk gate; one at the door to the hallway; two at my door.
Pollini Dress
OK. I just had to try it on. I was walking right across from the duomo in what is probably one of the world’s most expensive shopping districts, surrounding the Galleria, and my head whipped around when I caught sight of the fabric of this dress. It pulled me into the store, Pollini.
Pollini Dress
I walked up to the dress, pulled it off the rack and kept smiling. The fabric was a VERY sheer, somewhat stiff-bodied chiffon and it was constructed in layer-upon-layer of bias-cut, undulating ruffles. Each layer was a different stripe or polka dot in primary and secondary colors.
Wild. I kept smiling, the dress amused me. I twirled the dress on the hanger, just to see how the fabric moved. It was a visual feast. So much fun.
The woman at the store nudged me to try it on, so I finally gave in, (though never intending to buy it). It wasn’t the price tag (780 Euro or about $1100), but more that it wasn’t my kind of dress to wear. (It also didn’t fit me like it does the model in the photo!) It’s the kind of dress I’d hang on the wall just to please my eyes. It would be great art. (Too bad this photo, from their web site, doesn’t allow you to see the fabric patterns.)
I looked at the other clothes in the store and enjoyed the layering that they’ve integrated into the other garments. Sometimes an asymmetrical collar or skirt wrap.
One thing about Italian clothing is the sumptuousness of the fabric! Having been a seamstress for 40 years, beautiful fabric with a “good hand” makes me swoon. I can’t even FIND fabric like that in Seattle. As meticulous as I am, I don’t know whether I’d be able to work with fabric of that quality. The threads are so fine and so “buttery soft” that it would take extreme finesse to work with it, much like a slippery silk.
But, Oh!, to TOUCH that fabric makes my heart beat faster!
Scamorza Affumicata
Mmmm. I discovered this cheese last summer and loved it: Scamorza Affumicata. (“Scamorza” is the kind of cheese. “Affumicata” means it’s smoked.) So I found it again at the store yesterday and had a chunk this morning with some fresh tomato. Good breakfast?
From a Wikipedia entry:
Scamorza is an Italian cow’s milk cheese. It can also be made of other milks, but that is less common. It is a close relative of mozzarella.
Scamorza is a plastic curd (or stretched curd) cheese in which the fresh curd matures in its own whey for several hours to allow acidity to develop by the process of lactose being converted to lactic acid. Artisanal cheesemakers would generally form the cheese into a round shape and then tie a string around the mass one third of the distance from the top and hang to dry. The resulting shape is pear-like. This is sometimes referred to as “strangling” the cheese. The cheese is usually white in color unless smoked. When smoked, the color is almond with a lighter interior.
It is reputed to melt better in baking than mozzarella. It can be substituted for mozzarella in most dishes. If using the smoked variety (scamorza affumicata), it adds a nice background flavor in replacement of mozzarella.
In Italy, scamorza is more commonly made in the south rather than the north. Technically, scamorza is a product of Puglia, where it is made throughout Bari province (Slow Food Editore. 2005. Italian cheese, p. 372.) However, it is available across the country, both in the unsmoked and smoked forms. Mario Batali cites grilled scamorza as a traditional dish in Neapolitan cooking. (Batali, M. 2008. Italian grill, p.33.) Scamorza in Bari is made from sheep milk. This is not necessarily true of cheeses called scamorza outside the EU.
Piazza dei Mercanti, Milano
Wandering around Milano yesterday, not far from the duomo, I turned into the old, enclosed Piazza dei Mercanti. I was struck by this incredible staircase and think it’s simply a construction staircase for workers, as it looks like the building is under renovation.
Other birds
Up and at it early this morning. I awoke at about 4:30 but know I’m still affected by the time change and jet lag. We had quite a lightning storm last night with vociferous thunder and a cooling rain.
This morning, I heard the birds singing in the woodlot across the street from my apartment! I had wondered before coming if there would be enough trees around for nesting birds. Thrilled that there are. And the bird songs are all new to me. If I catch a glimpse I’ll make note of them for identification.
Appartamento
Pinch me. Am I dreaming? My apartment is located about 2.2 miles south-southwest of the duomo, pretty darn close to the center of town.
Who could ask for more? Fourteen foot ceilings. Hardwood floors. A living/dining area with cozy red couch and ottoman. And a kitchen space with, from left to right: freezer, fridge, utensil drawers, clothes washer, gas range, dishwasher and sink. Storage cabinet and on-demand water heater sit just under the loft floor.
And air conditioning!
An alternate-foot spiral staircase takes me up to my office loft, and makes it clear to me that I usually lead off with the other foot, but must retrain myself. Start with the left!
The bedroom has two twin beds (uh-oh! Room for out-of-town guests!) and extensive armoir storage with a step-in closet section.
My bathroom is tiled in aqua (Grandma’s favorite color) and gives me all the amenities necessary.
At home in Milano
Sono qui! Sono arrivata a Milano!
I’m here! I’ve arrived in Milano!
My plane got in yesterday morning at about 8:30. I found the ticket office for the Malpensa Express train from the airport to the center of town and took the 40-minute ride to Cadorna station. From there, I went to my new home in Milano enjoying and marveling at the familiarity of the streets along the way. I knew where I was! How cool is that!
This fabulous apartment is just one block north of the apartment I had for two weeks last summer, and just a few blocks’ walk to the school, NABA. So I know where the grocery stores are, and the nearest subway station, 4 blocks away. On the nearest street corner is the place where I bought bottled water. Another block away is the “bar” where the guy custom-made me a tosto for breakfast because I didn’t want a Nutella-filled pastry. He took two slices of bread, some prosciutto and formaggio and cooked it for me: a grilled ham and cheese sandwich. (Gotta start the day with some protein, not sugar!)
The first groceries join a few other things left behind. Where did the “America’s Choice” Vinegar come from?!
The first quick trip to the grocery store filled my bags with tomatoes, tomato sauce, pasta, pesto, grated hard cheese, acqua frizzante (sparkling water), butter lettuce, pears, lean pork, fresh mozzarella. Some white and red wine was already here waiting for me.
I puttered around the apartment for a while. Succumbed to the urge for a long nap. Awoke and cooked a bite to eat, then unpacked my bags and settled in. I’m here. I’m home.
Rummy in Jersey
Ciao Bella Gelato in Newark’s airport
Quarter to 5:00 New Jersey time. The flight to Milano leaves at 6:35, so I’ve had a bite to eat, wandered up and down the concourse (the most exercise I’ve had in weeks), and will hang out ’til it’s time to board.
I’m rummy, (as Dad always used to say). Tired and foggy -headed from poor sleep these days. I packed all day yesterday, then went to bed at 1:30 in the morning, set the alarm for 2:30 and scrambled around to finish packing. Got to the airport by 5:15 for an uneventful, yet pleasantly chatty ride here to New Jersey.
I’m moving to Italy… Wow. I don’t think it’s quite sunk in yet, and won’t ’til early Thursday, tomorrow, when I arrive at Milano Malpensa Airport and find my way by train to the Cadorna stop near the center of town. I’ll be hearing Italian all around, and it’ll be hot. That ought to be an indicator for me!
The “Ciao Bella Gelato” stand here at the airport felt like an early “welcome home” message.
Let the travel experience begin…
Late Sunday night. Minutes before midnight. I’ll be at the airport by 5:00 a.m. on Wednesday, so I have just two days left in Seattle. “Goodbyes” and “See-You-Laters” are stacked one on top of the other, leaving snippets of time to tend to the details of the move itself. But the fare-the-wells are essential. (I’ll get it all done, really!)
I sold my car today! (That’s a commitment to going!) Then my brother and his wife drove me south to the airport to pick up a rental car for two days. What a lesson in bad signage at the airport! Perhaps next time I’ll rent a car from a company that WANTS me to find them, rather than renting from Budget! We wasted an hour searching for their rental counter.
Let the travel experience begin!
Minutiae – IMPORTANT minutiae – are what’s left for the most part. Those details, and actually packing my bags (which I haven’t really started yet). Time to really focus and concentrate (as if I haven’t been for months?!) Then, come Wednesday morning, I leave it all behind. What I haven’t gotten done by then must not have been “mission critical”.
Italiano o English?
Should I be using the proper Italian spelling of city names, or the English rendition? I’ve already been vacillating and inconsistent. Milano or Milan? Venezia or Venice? Firenze or Florence? Or write everything twice, first in one language then the other? For an English-speaking readership, perhaps just English, but it feels incorrect and an uneducated decision.
Thoughts?
Non-attachment
As soon as I had even the glimmer of a decision to make this move, it was all-of-a-sudden very easy to go through my house and send things down the road. Home for just two weeks after my Summer trip, I gave away half my clothes, then later gave away even more. Every pass through the house I scanned for what could be given or thrown away. My thought was “if holding onto this will keep me from going to Milan, then I’m going to get rid of this.”
The whole trip preparation has been a lesson in “non-attachment”. Not “detachment”, which has a negative connotation of disinterest, but rather a not-being-attached to things and situations. It’s more fluid, more easy, looser. It’s been a progressive letting-go from the very first stirrings of this idea, to the clearing out my house and handing over the keys to the tenants. Each relinquishment stood on the foundation of the one before, and on the certainty I feel about this move. It became very easy to let go.
All of that said, I STILL think I kept too much stuff to put into storage! I really was trying to whittle it down. In the end, it fit into two rooms. I think that everyone should touch everything they own at least once every 5 (or 10?) years. Doing so would show exactly how much there really is being held.
Red onion
Taking a shortcut through an alley way in Burien on a recent hot day, I saw this perfect red onion sitting alongside a painted backside wall. I swooned and had to shoot it. The colors. The textures. And the unlikelihood of finding such a thing! It still makes me laugh.
One week away, categorized and organized
It’s Monday night. I leave a week from Wednesday, early in the morning. The lists of details remaining are long and it’s hard to sleep at night. My usual bedtime of midnight, still gets me up between 1:30 and 3:00 and I lie awake for an hour or so if I’m unlucky. Lucky if I can keep my brain from kicking in to review the lists.
My brother and friends laugh at my multiple yellow legal pads, lined up in a row, categorized and organized, each one hosting a different list “theme”. This is all in addition to a 2″ binder, but in there, everything’s buried. At this point, I need it all in front of my eyes.