Said Who?

That going to malls is such a waste of time? 

This is what I have learnt today

the social phenomenon of parents and kids on board and aircraft

A POLITICALLY INCORRECT ESSAY ON KIDS AND THEIR PARENTS

 

(So to all those sensitive readers, stop reading here)

I had a situation which many of my colleagues will be familiar with. 

Aircraft. Boarding. 

A kid comes on his own running like he's about to miss the flight, though there are 289 souls queuing to get in behind him. I stop him and tell him to wait for his parents because on his own his not going anywhere. He might have had some sort of attention disorder, or maybe he plain simply did not understand what I was talking about, he runs into aircraft in an attempt to run up and down the aisle during the boarding process -good luck pal-. So again, this time grabbing him by the head I tell him to wait by my side until his parents come on board. In a more assertive tone. He stays three seconds before he tries to run away again. I pulled him backwards by his hair, stopped the boarding process and yelled at him to stay where he is. 

MILANO

And every time I come to Italy and get lost in its streets and the strangers' chit chats it is that I understand just how Italian we are . And so I get emotional.

PROLOGUE
Cracked it, this is where locals mix; high heels, pretty handbag, expensive suits, punks, vegans and runners. And yes, if I was a millionaire, I would have a little apartment in every spot of the world that I love. And this would be one.

NAVIGLIO, Milano: A bird's eye view

In the background, the radio flickers between cheap Latin remixed music that might as well be from the 90's and the football channel. Honestly, I preferred the football, at least it was an Argentinian pretending to speak Italian and I understood him. And it was more interesting than this horrible pop mass produced music.

To my closest left-hand side:  an arcade wooden door full of graffiti. It was dark, N53. By the looks of it, you wouldn't expect anyone to actually live there. But for the 45' I've been here, it's been the busiest door of the 'hood:
*Milanese mum with pram and dog
*Middle aged -I reckon going through the mid life crisized (I am such a literal Nobel that I made up that word, it derives from crisis, means to actually be in a or recently have been in a crisis; hence crisized) recently divorced just got a BMW massive bike- stylish Italian man
*Punk Arab girl
*Indian girl
*Chinese party of three females
Either a diamond in brute this building...Or I don't know.

The street stretches along to the left. Sun umbrellas for sixteen, those that you expect to find in Montgomery Golf Club rather than here. Seems like everybody that lives on top of these cafés restaurants pizzerias goes through that mysterious graffitied door... On top of all these Italian to the core food establishments, what in my opinion, used to be palaces or mansions or big five storied houses. Classic ones. In diverse classic colours: ochre, old pink, sandy yellow just to name a few.

Kind of ninety degree or to my nine o'clock (oh oh time has made me so technical) there's an iron bridge. Nothing majestic. More like an improvisation back in the glam days.
Underneath : the canal.
On the other side of the canal (ten o'clock now) more of this old houses that host food establishments on ground floor, lovely colours on the facade and all sorts of characters on the inside.

Same same same eleven twelve one two and a half  o'clock around.

Three o'clock there's another bridge that links both sides of the maybe in a different time of the year canal (oh did I forget to mention it's dry and looks more like a Patagonian ocean bed than a canal? Full of pigeons eating rubbish) this bridge instead is concrete. I find it more charming . Three four five o'clock more food establishments. Loads of competition. So I will focus on mine coz that's where I am and what I can describe.

Here is where Milano's glam ends. In a way. Luis Vuitton, Chanel and all the haute couture mates are long ago left behind. Corso Genoa is the transition. Or maybe that starts earlier but this is where you realize that you are walking down a normal 'hood street, where normal people actually live and they are dressed up normally -despite you and I hating average normal dressers. Beautiful Elite models Vogue cover girls and world class brains from European banks and other organizations in their fancy suits and even fancier retirement plans that I do not envy at all (I do love those handbags though) are back in Milano, that Milano you have in your head around the Duomo and etc's.

I am here. Facing the south bank (that's just a random guess but since there's Southbank in London and Brisbane why not in Milano?)  of the once a canal and looking at the étrange mix of neighbours come in and out, lost tourists passing by, locals choosing the happy hour of the day (FYI happy hour here extends from 5pm til like closing time. Happiest hour ever, prosecco included), zipping Pinot's and Prosecco and enjoying an €8 all you can eat -al fresco, metal tables, plastic china&silver for Italian home made food... Sin if you ask me- and all you can drink (in glass glass) :)
I hope they they switch the radio back to football. This industrial pop rap is killing me. So is tiramisu. Or turn it off, some locale close by plays music from like the fifties, totally vintage and I love it.

Dogs are social.
People are social. They talk to each other from one side of the canal to the other, maybe they yell, coz they all do it at the same time too, so at times it can be quite loud. But it's Italy. Never loud enough though, if you can still eavesdrop on the conversation passers by are having...
They ride bikes of all kinds and colours. Same as their hairs and shoes. Wanna be's from the city walk hopping from pond to pond popping their heels in the stones that maybe at once the emperor himself walked by.
And after sun goes down runners come out.

Runners seem to be males. As if running was forbidden for milanese woman, who are only allowed to walk prams or ride funky bikes commuting style (how are they so hot then? Dunno)

Food is delicious. Salads pasta pies Cake... Doesn't get much better than this

PS
At my two and a half , if you just look at it in a 'panning kind of look' it looks like some alpine locality. Maybe, just maybe , 'coz we are not so far .


IT GOES ON IN THE METRO

The occasional musicians from some country no local likes, the limping one, the seller, the gypsy and all the usual suspects come and go by asking for money. I like the accordion player. But don't like to feed the masses. It's hard to tell though when someone needs it or needs it -as I do a beer- you know what I mean? I always think of my bro the musician and tend to tip'em . What goes around comes around. It might not be the best reason but at least is a reason.

What I love about locals here is that they wear glasses, they read, and they hide behind the books as if a books could stop them from hearing the accordion or the limping fake leg or the crying sick baby. Super-powerful books that Italians read, whatever. And once again this homey feeling. Can someone that's so much apart in time and space be so much the same? How do the genes work? How does this info travel?

Maybe because they're from the north maybe because God actually creates and we mix: Can't help but loving it here with all it's incongruousness: they queue on one side of escalator and on the other they climb as if we were in UK!