I’ve never had my wallet snatched in my life…not once…but last Saturday afternoon a certain light-fingered felon sure as hell overturned the HE applecart and opened a floodgate of stress and anguish.
All day Sunday (train to Milan, an “express” train out to Malpensa Airport, back to Milan) and for most of Monday, I felt cursed and doomed, not to mention like a beast of burden, dragging my bag all over town. Trudge, slog, trudge, slog. People are strange when you’re a stranger…faces look ugly when your cash and plastic have flown.
The passport renewal process began and that felt constructive, but man, I was shagged, fagged and damp.
But then sunlight pierced through, right out of the effing blue. A friend introduced me to Thea Scognamiglio, a Doctors Without Borders epidemiologist, and her gracious husband Francesco Battigelli, and within a couple of hours I was parked on a couch inside their sprawling, top-floor abode in a quiet, historical section of Milan (southwest of Sforza Castle), and then the air ticket issue was finally resolved (suffice that SAS fares are cheap because they have no staff to help people in a tough spot…not recommended) and then I was offered a nice spacious bedroom, and it felt so soothing I almost wept.
Over and over life has taught me that Italians deal cards with more heart than most other cultures, and in this respect or at least from my perspective, Thea rules the roost. She fulfills my concept of a Zen-spirit vessel, only casually laid-back…calm, conversationally candid, worldly and brilliant as they come. I’ve never met anyone quite like her. She’s like a figure out of mythology. Within a couple of hours I felt restored, cleansed, saved…the nightmare goblins had flown away like crows.
Last night we went on a delightful stroll through her relatively traffic-free neighborhood, and passed by the ruins of the Circo Romano (Via Circo, 12, 20123 Milano). Francesco joined us for dinner at a quiet outdoor bar-restaurant. The last time I visited Milan was in ’92, and I barely scratched the surface. I realized last night that, thanks to Thea and Francesco, I was beginning to finally savor the refined, inside-baseball aspects (cultural, historical, architectural, spiritual) of Milan. I was finally starting to “get it.”
Friendo: “Milano is a very secret city that tends to reveal its beauty and sophistication slowly, and in time.”
Today I had a late lunch with Jessica, an American friend of Thea’s. Movie lover, open-hearted, constantly grinning plus she vaguely resembles a post-peak Gloria Grahame but with blonde hair. We met at Antica Trattoria della Pesca, where Ho Chi Minh lived and worked in the 1930s. Levitationsl Milanese cuisine.
