Off the metro at the Duomo Plaza, we passed through the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II to the plaza for La Scala. I think I expected banners or billboards or huge posters maybe depicting opera and ballet performances. Instead we stood before an elegant but simple stone building. A building that looked closed. While we gazed at our closed building a long line had formed across the plaza at the Municipal Palace. There was an artist's work on display that had people excited. Ross and I weren't interested. Down the side street next to La Scala we had hoped to find a lunch spot that had been lauded in one of the guidebooks Ross consulted. At the address for the restaurant seemed to be a little boutique selling antique music composition and posters dedicated to old Hollywood. Cafe Verdi. Well at least the place served food, but he and I were both confused about why this cafe had the address of Ross' pizzeria and why a 'cafe', for all appearances, looked like a boutique. I led the way inside hoping to find clarity. Stacks of paper, books upon books, posters lining the walls, larger prints leaning up against the legs of tables. The place looked more like the college dorm room shared by an English major, an art student, and a musical genius.....it was delightful madness packed into about 20 feet and two stories. To the left of the entrance, past some merchandise huddled a few tables. From there an impossibly narrow staircase vaulted itself pack toward the entrance. In front of us, again past the merchandise, a man prepared sandwiches and hot chocolate behind a bar. Under the stairs a woman kept guard behind the cash register. When I looked at her with bewilderment she said, "You want lunch?" Yes indeed we did want lunch. Up the stairs she motioned. At the top of the stairs less than a dozen little tables were arranged with almost no room between them. Ross and I were seated by a slender, authoritative waitress (who was handling all the tables in the cafe single-handedly, and given menus. I was less interested in the food and more interested in the charm of the cafe. All my favorite things gathered into such a tiny, lively place! I peeped down into the shop from our table and watched people enter and exit with books, chocolates, sandwiches, and various other things. Ross ordered a spicy salami pizza and I settled on vegetable soup and pasta. There's never been a point in our relationship where I've been self-conscious of eating in front of Ross and starved myself on date night salads. No, I've always been open about my love for food. It was fascinating to watch the waitress shout below to the lady at the cash register or the man behind the bar, asking if certain dishes were still in stock or if certain ingredients were in certain recipes. We sat among Russians, British people, Italians and Germans....I suppose the mix of languages was the reason that the menus were all in English and the waitress spoke English with most of the surrounding customers. The food was yummy. It was not as impressive as our pizza bread dishes of the day before or as nice as the dinner the night before, but the food was still wonderful and full flavored. Something that Ross and I learned about Italy was that the portions are huge if you order an entree and the appetizers can make for a small meal themselves. For once, I ate my pasta faster than Ross finished his dish (he's frustratingly fast at eating). After we'd both stuffed ourselves, we visited La Scala once more just to be sure we got our fill of the famous Theatre from the outside. Then it was on to the Brera District.
In Milan, the Brer district is known for being trendy, having great shopping, and being a general hang out for the younger adult crowd. Neither of us new what we'd find open, or if we'd find anything open, but we thought that Brera might be a fun place to at least walk around the streets a bit. Ross and I tried the Brera museum (Pinacotheque de Brera) and the San Marco church, but both were closed. I had found a chocolate shop 'in the heart of the Brera' in my guidebook that looked promising; that was closed as well. We ended up walking ourselves lost by taking in the architecture and chatting about different topics. Since the Brera district was bust we decided to try to find another chocolatier on street Corso di Porta Romana, a long street south of the historic center and across town from where we currently were.
Romana was a really long street which, when beginning the walk to the chocolatier's shop, didn't seem so bad. Sure, everything was closed and this part of town was not pretty at all, but when we reached the shop I had faith we'd be rewarded for the effort. So we walked and walked and walked some more. Still we talked of this and that the entire time. We were so engaged in talking with each other that we passed the closed chocolatier's show without immediately realizing it. Suddenly I whipped around, looked at the address, looked up at the name over the closed door, and groaned. The shop was completely dark. Now I felt completely responsible for our tired feet. I'd suggested the Brera museum and these chocolatiers, and everything was closed because it was January 1st. We drug ourselves and our disappointment back onto the metro headed for our hotel to regroup and recharge.
No comments:
Post a Comment