One thing I really loved about Milan is how easy it was to get around, and how comfortable I felt there. Really, it feels a city, but just extra gorgeous - something of a mix between Madrid, Melbourne, and New York, but with its own personality, of course.
We were lucky enough to get caught in a summer rain storm (I adore rain in the summer) - and ducked into a little café to happily sit with espressos, wine (and a gelato or two), watching the rain and people for what felt like hours.
While some cities in Italy draw you in for the poetry (Florence, for me - I'm still fantasizing about reading Dante's Inferno while living down the street from where Dante lived - it's on the bucket list), Milan tempts me to imagine what the everyday might be like (somewhat glamorized, of course). What would become my regular coffee spot? Favorite dinner place? What shops might I discover that are off the beaten path? And somehow, the tangibility of these everyday realities seem so very romantic. Of course, it's easier to picture while dreaming in the rain. But now that we're back, I can still conjure up the sound of the rain - a white noise that softens the sounds of conversations, knives and forks moving across plates, and motorists. It's this sound that keeps this place alive, waiting in the back of my mind, calling me back to immerse myself in the delight of the everyday.
Photos by Nikko DeTranquilli