Easy

I was determined to take it easy on my last full day in Milan, so I lingered over breakfast at the hotel, then meandered down to the Corso Garibaldi to buy some more basics at OVS, a lint roller at Muji, and some limited edition minifigs at the Lego store. I had coffee at an old world Italian cafe, all wide burgundy awnings, bentwood chairs, classical music and immaculately dressed waiters, then I went back to the hotel to do some packing. In the afternoon I walked over to the Corso Buenos Aires to doublecheck some shoe shops but didn’t see anything I wanted, or at least anything I could justify buying. I saw half a dozen fine leather dress shoes I’d be proud to wear, but I’ve already bought some fine leather dress shoes, and my luggage will only take so much.

Strolling back to the hotel necessitated once again walking under the shadow of the UniCredit skyscraper, one of the tallest and most striking in the city, and I had a realisation about what must have gone down when it was being designed.

Architect 1: So, we’ve designed a big ass skyscraper for UniCredit. But how can we make it even bigger and even assier?

Architect 2: I know! Let’s slap a scale model of the Burj Khalifa on the roof!

Architect 1: Perfect! A little bit of the design majesty of Dubai right here in the heart of Milan.

The Ghost of Zaha Hadid, floating through the room: Noooooooooooooo!

Some other random observations on my walks:

- I saw a girl, aged somewhere between 12 and 15, wearing track pants with ‘Juicy’ spelled out in glitter on the butt. Sweet merciful crap, I thought, Juicy Couture is now vintage and it’s back. She probably found them in her mother’s closet with a nightclub receipt from 2009 in the pocket.

- Even the pigeons in Milan look glossier and better put together than their disheveled Australian counterparts.

- Watching a scooter rider hurl abuse at a van driver who cut him off is a moment of Italian charm. When you don’t understand Italian, their version of, “What the hell is wrong with you, you incompetent dickhead?” sounds vibrant and romantic.

- While I was sitting at a cafe a man strolled by whistling Tchaikovsky's ‘Waltz of the Flowers’. Even for someone like me, who hates whistling with a passion, it was beguiling. Bless you, you classical music loving weirdo.

I decided to begin my final evening as I had begun the first, at the little bistro on a side street with copious aperitivo snacks. I still felt like a glutton for gobbling up a board obviously meant for two people, but it wasn’t enough to, like, stop me. Fortunately the friendly waiter, the same one as last time, seemed charmed rather than appalled by my feeding frenzy and gave me a complimentary pastry as I left. Somewhere his Italian nonna smiled in approval.

I finished off my evening at the Blue Note, seeing a local performer named Pepe Ragonese and his quartet playing a tribute to Chet Baker. Pepe’s stage patter was all in Italian but he sang in English and played trumpet in whatever international language horn players blow in. Just as last time, it was a high quality act, with prodigiously talented performers, a carefully considered sound mix, and an audience who listened, appreciated and behaved completely unlike the noisy drunken meth-heads one cannot escape in Perth.