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07 October, 2015

Milan, I-V



I
rotating smoothly
gracefully but so slowly
Milano loo-seat




II
Milan mosquitos:
do the humans taste better
in five-star hotels?





III
grand opera house
wearing their best t-shirts
the americans




IV
Mimi la Boheme
despite her poverty
is not malnourished




V
the scent of cologne
made fresh again by a tear
at the opera

2 comments:

  1. I hope that you have enjoyed the summer, Gentle Reader. These seto of five comes from a family holiday, followed by a conference visit, in the capital of what was once the Kingdom of Lombardy.

    I: outside one particularly flash winebar (with a rather decent house sparkling rose), there was a lavatory. With a rotating seat. The lavatory seat was cleaned while it rotated. As the haiku suggests, the rotation was slow - EXTRAORDINARILY slow. I had mixed feelings, as I watched this miracle of modern life, taking its sweet, sweet time to let me use it.

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  2. II: the transition from family holiday to conference attendance involved a transition between 5- and 4-star hotels. I was nibbled by mosquitoes in both, but seemingly more in the 5-star hotel - did the insects cluster at the more expensive hotel for a reason? Was the human cuisine more highly-recommended?

    III: For opera-lovers, Milan is an important place. I was deeply pleased to attend La Scala, as it has been on my cultural radar since I first became aware of fat ladies singing high notes. I even packed an outfit to fit in with the dress code. (Note: Italians are not big on dress codes, and so, when a dress code exists in Italy, you know it's serious.) I was delighted to see that the only t-shirts (and jeans) in the entire theatre were being sported by Americans. They had even chosen what seemed to be their very best t-shirts for the occasion, which I thought was fitting, given the respect that one should pay to La Scala.

    IV: La Boheme (pronounce this as "Lay Boh-Heem" to annoy up-tight people) is one of my favourite opera - I am a sentimental type, and Puccini tugs the heart-strings. Imagine my happiness to see that, no matter how extreme was the poverty of Mimi (the lead soprano), she didn't look at all underfed. In the slightest.

    V: Sentimental indeed, when you are reminded of the scent of your own aftershave as it is freshly invigorated by a little wetness of the cheek. Sniff.


    Toodlepip,

    Hobbes

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(and thanks)