Good

Good Friday was one of those rare, amazing days when everything went right and everything fell my way. Of course every Good Friday is a blessing, but sometimes the blessing is just more immediate and physical.

Firstly, it’s been unexpectedly difficult to my psyche not being able to talk to anyone, other than brief transactional moments in broken English with shopkeepers and waiters. But this morning after breakfast I got to chatting with the Italian barista at the hotel, and we swapped stories about Australia and Italy for half an hour, nicely refilling my human interaction tank.

Then, I went out to do one of my shopping errands – I need to get some new Italian shoes, because… everyone needs to get some new Italian shoes. On my way to the shopping district, I discovered that there’s a Muji store in the plaza under one of the city’s largest skyscrapers. My favourite pen, which I use all the time for my journaling, is exclusive to Muji and it’s almost out of ink. I was thinking I’d have to go back to Melbourne to get a replacement, but here it was right here! And it was on sale!

As I left the Muji store, I noticed that there’s a Lego store across the plaza. So now if Explorer Sam loses his pith helmet, his spare head or even his legs, I’ve got him covered.

Plus he has a french bulldog now. His name is Giacomo. Explorer Sam is becoming bourgeois.

After these distractions, I did get to the remainder shoe shop I’d read about, where I got some sleek brown leather brougues for work and some slick black leather sneakers, for only 40 euros each.

I then went and hid in my hotel room, because I didn’t want to risk this streak of luck and delight ending. But after a nap, I put on my new black sneakers and went off to do some more window shopping. I didn’t buy anything this time, but I walked 7kms in brand new shoes and they were somehow even more comfortable than they were when I put them on. That’s the miracle of Italian leather.

As dusk fell I ventured out again for a little aperitivo, and discovered that I’m actually only a block and a half from a hip entertainment precinct. I stopped at a little bar called Tu Sa, owned by the Italian doppelganger of Stanley Tucci (or possibly Stanley Tucci with a secret side gig; he has Italian ancestry, after all), and had an exquisite aperitivo – a mezcal negroni accompanied by green olives, crisps, focaccia with marinated vegetables and smoked salmon, and chunks of parmesan cheese with apricot jam. All for 12 euros, which is less than I’ve paid for a similar drink by itself in Australia.

 

 

Then I had to leave, because I’d also discovered that, on the same street, there’s a Blue Note jazz club, and I’d bought myself a ticket. And so, after coming all the way to Milan, I got to see an absolutely exquisite performance by Australian jazz trumpeter James Morrison.

Sitting there in the dark, watching and listening to a superlative performance, I dwelt on the idea that this is how things are meant to work in our civilisation. People from all nations, ages and cultures coming together to share in human creativity and talent. People being safe, warm, well-fed and able to turn their attention to things of delight and uplift. That’s what civilisation is meant to do.

After the show I strolled home through the happy Friday night crowds feeling bone-deep contentment. It was Good Friday, and all was right with the world.