an ode to Milan

Most people I talk to who are not from Milan but have been there hate it. There's something about the city, especially in the summertime, when it's hot, muggy, and too many cars. The word "pavement" often comes to mind to those who try to describe Milan. It's exactly a green city, with parks everywhere the eye can see, like Portland. Milan is buildings, shops, city streets, buses, cars, taxis, more shops. It is after all, the fashion capital of Europe, and of course, the financial center of Italy.

Even though I'm one of those foreigners who has come to know this city, instead of hating the wall to wall sprawl of Milan, I love it. You can spend literally hours, walking around, listening to music, and just wander. I hardly ever take pictures here, because there are no truly breathtaking parts of the city to admire. It's more of the atmosphere as a whole, the bustle, the movement. Perhaps it reminds me of home, where everything is open all week long until late (except of course for the month of August, when the entire city is vacant while everyone is on holiday), and people work hard. I think the word "hardworking" is what comes to mind when I look at all of the business workers, in their business suits running around the city from dawn to dusk, always looking industrious. Even the youth seem pretty busy, walking around in directed motion, as if they have somewhere important to be. And especially during the wintertime, you don't see anyone sitting around, because it's a little too cold for that.

I suppose compared to Reunion, however, anywhere looks busy. I can only imagine how hot it must be there right now, and how relaxed everyone must be, since they're all on vacation. I can picture at this moment where everyone in the town of St Gilles are: you have the fruit stands open, with my favorite vegetable seller organizing his produce. You have the women in the other stand next door sitting around with glazed expressions, waiting for the tourists to buy their tomatoes. Then there is that group of old men by the bus stop, still working on their bottle of rum while they play cards. Oh, and don't forget out two homeless men, who wander around from spot to spot, talking to people or talking to themselves, as they go to the bakery to pick up their daily bread. I know where everyone should be in St Gilles on a Tuesday afternoon. The only people out of place are the assistants, still traveling around, exploring the world before we go back to work.