16. Basel to Milano

Sunday 29 March.  Basel to Milano, Italy. (343km).  Liestal reminds me of Vail or Elkhorn in a real city: modern shops, boutiques.  The hotel still smells wonderful in the morning.  I feel guilty leaving Sunday morning at nine with the church bells ringing, reminding me of mass.  (As it happens, we will attend 6 p.m. mass at the cathedral in Milano.)  The day is cloudy and rainy.  As a result, I am disappointed at what I expected would be a beautiful drive through the mountains. 

Still, it is a pretty drive, just not as spectacular as it might have been in sunshine.  We drive by Lucerne, which is just as pretty as I remember from 1981.  We begin counting tunnels and stop at 30 or 40.  The highway engineering in Switzerland and Italy, both the tunnels and bridges spanning valleys way below, put US engineering to shame.  At the top we pass through the ten mile S. Gotthard tunnel, just about into Italy.  There is snow, drizzle and green on one end and bright sunshine and a lot of rock on the other, reminding me of the changes between the western and eastern slopes of the mountains in California, near the desert; though Italy is not, of course, a desert.  We need car registration papers for the Italian border, but encounter no problems.  We pay a few tolls and then arrive in Milano.  The sight of the mountains behind us is magnificent.  I wish we could stop in Como, but we have no time.  It is as beautiful as I remember.  What a place it would be to visit in summer!

We arrive in Milano on a lovely Sunday afternoon, find our hotel without much trouble and check in (Hotel Berlino International).  We have plenty of time for the pleasures of a gelato and a stroll through the central park, with the rest of the Milanese, many of whom are listening to the soccer game on their transistor radios.  While the children watch a puppet show, we notice the Africans selling sunglasses and fake Louis Vuitton bags laid out on towels on the ground.  It's just like Venice (where the sellers and their wares mysteriously disappear if the police come anywhere near).  Conscious that we are now in one of the world's fashion capitals, we take note that horn rimmed glasses are back.  Everyone seems to be making an individual statement.  

We attend mass at the Cathedral, which we happen by just in time for 6 o'clock mass.  Robert, Mara and Thomas fall fast asleep.  As I listen to mass again in a foreign language, I have time to appreciate the stained glass, the sculptures and the paintings: they give me something to think about even if I can't understand what's being said.  (Am I to think of the glory of God or the glory of the artist?)  I realize that as a Catholic in Europe I am able not just to see so many beautiful, old churches, but to use them as they were intended.

After mass, we have a self service meal.  We drag tired children around looking high and low for a regular restaurant because Cathy wants to be served, but our choices are few on a Sunday evening.  Self service sounds pretty good to me, as I am beginning to feel as if I am running out of money.  In the event, dinner is fine and afterwards we take a cab back to the hotel.

Enjoying a Beautiful Spring
Afternoon in Milano