A long, leisurely
breakfast.
It's not especially
warm, so we're better off staying indoors. Torino Porta Susa railway station
smells of urine and nicotine. Near Milan, there are rice fields (?).
The internet explains the poplar plantations: these genetically modified trees are grown for 15 to 20 years before being turned into furniture and plywood.
Italy still has plenty of architecture where the common swift can find nesting places. It's also remarkable that, in such an artificial, geometrically ordered landscape, the remaining scraps of woodland and patches of meadow still manage to support something other than people and grapevines. At the same time, you don't notice what's missing. The decomposers, for example. I'd be curious to hear an ecologist explain how this landscape works. Something was always in bloom. Locust, elder, and jasmine smelled wonderful; dogwood decidedly less so.
In Milan we practise using the metro, meet Külli and Luca in the middle of the street, and immediately go for coffee. Afterwards we visit Brera, where there's a tiny botanical garden.
Among the trees in front of La Scala, Leonardo da Vinci stands atop a column in what looks like a workman's cap, giving him a better view of the crowds milling below and taking photos. Some people are packed into the shopping streets; others are standing open-mouthed in a noisy hall watching coffee beans race through copper pipes. We treat ourselves to a tomato-and-mozzarella sandwich and some books.
Dinner leaves us feeling overstuffed.
The internet explains the poplar plantations: these genetically modified trees are grown for 15 to 20 years before being turned into furniture and plywood.
Italy still has plenty of architecture where the common swift can find nesting places. It's also remarkable that, in such an artificial, geometrically ordered landscape, the remaining scraps of woodland and patches of meadow still manage to support something other than people and grapevines. At the same time, you don't notice what's missing. The decomposers, for example. I'd be curious to hear an ecologist explain how this landscape works. Something was always in bloom. Locust, elder, and jasmine smelled wonderful; dogwood decidedly less so.
In Milan we practise using the metro, meet Külli and Luca in the middle of the street, and immediately go for coffee. Afterwards we visit Brera, where there's a tiny botanical garden.
Among the trees in front of La Scala, Leonardo da Vinci stands atop a column in what looks like a workman's cap, giving him a better view of the crowds milling below and taking photos. Some people are packed into the shopping streets; others are standing open-mouthed in a noisy hall watching coffee beans race through copper pipes. We treat ourselves to a tomato-and-mozzarella sandwich and some books.
Dinner leaves us feeling overstuffed.
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