KOOL and well, don't forget the gang!!!!

October 27, 2007

I have had writers block and even as I sit to write now, I can’t imagine that anything I put down will really be noteworthy and I can say with somewhat certainty that it may seem ridiculous. Who writes a blog anyway? The same people that write the chain Christmas letters, right? So by me making fun of myself I have now dished out an insult that is perhaps worse than this entire rant. I have basically called you, the reader, one of those people who crane to see the accident across the meridian causing traffic jams for miles. A person who enjoys watching a train wreck.

I am being sarcastic. I wonder, do you miss that about me? No? I didn’t think so. Italy, in the last month, has provided exactly what Italy produces well, great food and wine with great conversation and laughter. I have tried to make as many trips to the heart of the city as I can. Being rewarded each time with something exciting to see. Milan has easily become a place that I adore. A place I find myself wandering through with a smile on my face.

Milan is not like Italy in many ways. You will not find many guidebooks bragging about this city. Very few people will say that you have to come and experience it. In fact, it is fun to watch peoples’ faces when you tell them you live in Milan. There is a grimace that appears. I think someone even once said, “Milan is the armpit of Italy!” The Milanese are not known for their openness and the city has a somewhat eclectic and harsh feel. But for me, it is the first city I have ever lived in. And I suppose firsts are always sort of magical.

Yet, if we overlook my ignorance for a moment, I guess what I love most is the opportunities that a city provides. Chances to see museums such as the Pinoteca but also the random festivals and exhibits that seem to pop up with little warning or circumstance. Of course not having a radio or television, nor having the ability to read Italian newspapers, makes it difficult to really stay abreast of what is truly happening in the city. The language barrier adds a sense of spontaneity that I have learned to appreciate. It’s as if I look forward to the random presentation of the small wonders that magically seem to appear. Whether it is a free 70’s revival concert put on by Kool and the Gang in the Piazza del Duomo or an art exhibition on Via Dante, I smirk at it all.

The Piazza was filled. We had basically grown up on the songs that were filling the air. What wedding had I been to where I had not heard, “Celebration!”? Or what thirty year old woman in the United States hadn’t sung “Cherish the night!” to her girlfriends in middle school, when thinking about pimply boys? Yes, Kool and the Gang were there and we weren’t about to waste a night coolly watching from a distance. Italy has given us all a boldness that is somewhat indescribable. It is almost like what we do has little consequences or ramifications. Or maybe it is the fact that we are keenly aware of the reputations of Americans around the world and we realize us behaving badly, is really quite tame in the whole scheme of things.

Amy’s friend, Julie was visiting from Istanbul, where she was participating in a Fulbright scholarship. We had just finished dinner. One of those dinners that lasts for hours as we sat on the street outside underneath an umbrella heater. Our faces warmed by the blowing heat and the consumed bottles of wine. Hearing the song “Cherish”, I insisted that we get as close to the stage as we could, half believing that we could actually make it on stage if we just smiled big enough. Plus, the Italians present were great in number but their enthusiasm was certainly lacking. I certainly had the enthusiasm, so with a little coaxing we were soon in front of center stage, singing at the top of our lungs. Smiling a contagious smile through the crowd.

Milanese people are reserved. They are known for it, and as far as I can see, this generalization is somewhat accurate. Yet, as we sang the songs we had heard since adolescence and danced and giggled and belly laughed, I caught, Italian after Italian grinning at our shenanigans. One of those grins telling me that they were happy to just see that I was happy. We didn’t make it on stage, but as Kool and the Gang left the stage we got a wave and a have a good night, that I know was just for us.