milano meraviglioso.

I don't think it's any secret that I love Italy. Any chance to go anywhere there, I'll take, so when it was time for Mike to head to the US again, we decided to fit in a long weekend in Milano beforehand ('cause, you know, it's waaaaay cheaper to fly to the US from anywhere via Zürich than from Zürich). And also, Milano is a great city that seems to get better each time we go. So, on a Wednesday in late May, we hopped on the train south (through the new-and-improved Gotthard tunnel!) and went. We caught dinner at the rather wonderful Un Posto a Milano, an 18th-century farmhouse that's somehow managed to survive, and be revived, as a restaurant/guest house/farmer's market in the city center. Most of their veggies come from their own gardens, and the rest of the food comes seasonally from sustainable, mainly-Italian, farms and producers. Plus, it doesn't hurt that the ambiance and setting are just lovely and sociable, and the food is good. We started with plates of mortadella and a tiny loaf of really excellent house bread for Mike, and some breaded, fried sardines with saffron mayo for me; then Mike had a plate of rigatoni with Parma pork, fava beans, dried tomatoes, cheese, and black pepper, and I went for dandelion spaghetti (green noodles!!) with dandelion greens, clams, and chile. All marvelous. And, because it was rather warm, we washed it all down with a bottle of Lambrusco, because we are classy like that.

Passed this glorious piece of machinery on the way to dinner...

...which was gorgeous and colorful and I would eat every bit again right now. (My mouth is actually watering.)

The next morning, we stumbled across a huge and gorgeous market along Via Pietro Calvi, where Mike, wisely, bought us some Sicilian strawberries to share...

...and we spotted all manner of foodie things I'd love to have in Zürich.

Actual fresh peas! Tropean onions! Want, want, want.

Next stop--and I have NO IDEA how we missed this place, in all of our previous visits to Milano!--the small, but utterly fascinating, San Bernardino alle Ossa.

It's a bone church, people. Or rather, a bone chapel. This place has its origins in the 13th century, when the nearby cemetery began to fill up, and the locals started depositing the bones in a purpose-built hall on this site.

Its current appearance dates to the early 18th century, and the patterns in bone extend to the base of the frescoed dome overhead.

I find myself drawn to find these kinds of places--the Capuchin crypt in Rome and the catacombs in Paris being really the only other examples of this sort of place I've visited, thus far--and while I originally thought I'd find it creepy, I kinda actually admire both the artistry at work here, as well as the desire of whomever assembled all of these bones to honor and commemorate these unknown deceased. (Of course, it's always accompanied by some sort of "Tempus fugit," "You'll end up like us!" admonishment, too.)

Next stop, a place we've passed probably 20 times during our visits to Milano, but never stopped in: Santa Maria presso San Satiro, a little church that sits at a weird, partially-obstructed angle to Via Torino, a very busy shopping street leading directly to the Duomo.

But the Duomo's not why we were here. No, we wanted to check out this outrageous (and, as it turns out, very early) example of trompe l'oeil from the 15th century.

That choir area is actually more-or-less a flat wall. The footprint of this church is actually rather small and truncated (shaped like a T, instead of a cross) by the existence of a major street on either side of it, so Donato Bramante (whose name pops up all over High Renaissance architecture, BTW) devised this insane optical illusion to make the church appear deeper, and to have a proper choir. From straight on, the illusion is entirely convincing, but step to the side at all, and it makes your brain hurt.

Also in this action-packed little church: Bramante's gorgeous, delicately-patterned, octagonal sacristy...

...the chapel of San Satiro, annexed to Santa Maria in the 15th century...

...but containing some much earlier, probably 9th-ish-century frescoes...

...and a 10th-century bell tower, the second oldest in the city.

After lunch at Piz, a pizzeria on Via Torino (they serve only two pizzas, a white and a margherita, but you get greeted with a glass of Prosecco and a starter slice, and the pizza's nice!), our next stop was--surprise!--yet another interesting little church, this one referred to as "the Sistine Chapel of Milano". On the way, though, we walked past a couple of fascinating places.

Some Gothic elements remaining on the 13th-century Palazzo Borromeo, hit by an Allied bomb during WWII, and eventually restored.

The remains of the Cappella della Madonna dei Miracoli, the site of a supposed 17th-century miracle after a builder rediscovered this painting of Mary during some remodeling works, and his lame leg was healed by it. A chapel was built around the painting, complete with gorgeous Baroque marble floor and niches for statues, but this, too, was hit by an Allied bomb in 1943 and mostly destroyed. Interestingly enough, however, the floor--having been, at some point in time, covered in concrete--survived the bombing more-or-less intact, and was rediscovered in 2013, but no one has been able to procure funding for its restoration and preservation, so until that happens, it's been covered with a layer of sand, and then dry concrete (for easy removal), to preserve it. (You can just barely see, in my terrible, overexposed, phone photo, an echo of the floor's patterns in the concrete floor above.) Somehow, the painting survived, too...

Also passed the footprint of the baths of the Roman imperial palace from the third century. (I know, I know, the footprint itself isn't so interesting, but it's neat in that it's visible. There really aren't so many large-ish, openly visible Roman ruins in Milano, although apparently, there are plenty of hidden ones there, as I'm just now discovering. Yeah, I just spent an hour exploring the entire map on the Milano Archeologia website. And now it's most definitely time to go back to that city.)

Not sure why, but I feel like you should know that with our little itinerary here, I was trying to replicate all the stops on a "hidden gems" tour that some friends of ours took a while back. I was able to check off all but the most elusive one: a visit to Da Vinci's Last Supper, which, unless you have several months' notice, is nearly impossible to go see. And you know that's not how we travel. But back to that Sistine Chapel...

Ok, so, it's not by Michelangelo, and there aren't any famous frescoes here, but still, wow. Somebodies went to town on the decorations in this place. This is the Hall of the Nuns...

...and looking the other direction.

This is the main part of the church for worshipers.

There are over 4,000 square meters of painted surface area here,

...and every single painting above, between, underneath, and on every arch is unique.

Thoughts as to why there are almost always unicorns in depictions of Noah's Ark...? (This relatively idyllic scene was bordered by two very graphic depictions of people drowning in the flood, and then the leftover corpses post-flood. Ick.)

Amazingly enough, this place is literally attached to the Civic Archaeology Museum, but because I figured Mike had had enough old stuff for one day, we went out and found ourselves some espressino freddo (yummmmmmm) and cookies, then headed for the Triennale, which houses a bunch of loosely design-related, revolving exhibitions.

The very first exhibit we wandered into was clearly Mike's favorite: one on Osvaldo Borsani, a 20th-century architect, designer, and entrepreneur. (Here, some sketches made in conjunction with Osvaldo's father Getano. Mmmmm, Art Deco.)

Borsani's earlier furniture designs fell solidly into the Art Deco category.

His later designs fell more into the modular, mass-production category, but that's irrelevant in the face of the fact that this folding bench is smiling at me.

Next, onto a loooong timeline of Italian-designed graphics, media productions, and objects, including this magnificent mid-century washing machine...

...and this wee bubble car. (I desperately, desperately love this thing.)

They also have this absolutely gorgeous La Pavoni (espresso machine) from 1947.

There was another exhibit that I really didn't get--I'm no art critic--but it did contain these rather amazing "drawings" made out of pins pushed through canvas. Would totally hang one of these in my house.

There was also a smallish exhibit sponsored by, and entirely about, Mini Cooper, featuring this Paul Smith-designed car...

...and a wall of celebrities driving Mini Coopers. Prominently featuring, of course, one Mr. Bean!!!

After the Triennale, we meandered back through town towards our hotel to get ready for dinner.

There is a lot of beauty in Milano. They don't lack for palazzos or stile Liberty...

...and there are, of course, bits of the medieval city hanging also around. (Sadly, Piazza dei Mercanti was mostly under scaffolding this last time around. Bah, humbug.) 

And then there's this thing. Never fails to make you stop and gape for a while.

I love the intricacy of the rose windows on the eastern/chevet end.

Near our hotel, the rather impressive Palace of Labor, built in 1932. (For no good reason, I've recently developed an interest in fascist architecture. Probably because it's so ridiculously self-important; generally huge; and packed with stories and history [however tragic and horrible].)

Right across the street is the Palazzo di Giustizia, built between 1932 and 1940. 

And last, but certainly not least, Milano Centrale, inaugurated in 1931. Somewhere I read the word "bombastic" used to describe fascist architecture, and nowhere does that apply more accurately than the main train station, itself a paean to Mussolini's ideals. Such a crazy, overblown mix of styles and symbols and details on an absolutely massive scale. (I could spend hours here with a real camera; thanks to pure laziness, however, I always opt for the phone camera when we go to Milano.)

Dinner on our second evening was at Tagiura, an old-school place we'd absolutely loved a few years ago, but which was slightly underwhelming this time around. Really, though, you go to Tagiura for the tortellini in brodo (wowwww), and everything else is secondary.*

And with that, our short weekend in Milano drew to a close. The next morning, Mike headed out early for the US, and I grabbed a coffee and pastry and a train northward. Milano, I think, is one of the cities I'd go to anytime; it's relatively close by, full of hidden and amazing things to discover, and always a delight to visit.

Up next: a jaunt to Strasbourg with my dear old Dad! (And possibly a bit on Mike's and my anniversary jaunt to the Piedmont, depending on how ambitious I feel. Generally, that's not very.)

*Ugh, correction. In Milano, it's ravioli di carne in brodo (and it's topped with Parmiggiano and lemon zest, yummmmm). My bad.