McDonalds in Milan? I still had a lot to learn in 1986.

I like to think I was born with good taste and culinary sophistication.  But diaries don't lie.  When in Italy my 20-year-old self sought out American food, eschewed rare meat and had never heard of insalata caprese.  There's no doubt, however, that this was a turning point in my life.  I mention food more in this part of the diary than in any other, and it's clear from these brief entries that I was open to new things and starting to learn.  Some fertile seeds were planted in these days.

July 4, 1986
I'm homesick.  It's strange to be in a foreign place on this big holiday, with nobody celebrating and it just being a normal day.  But it's important in its own way.  We were meeting the Bozzis, old Italian friends who lived in St. Louis for two years before returning to their native Milan.  (This was the family with whom I spent the summer when I first visited Europe in 1979.)

Mrs. Bozzi met us at Milan central station.  She looks exactly the same.  Slim, sporty, elegant, maybe a dusting of grey at the sides that wasn't there before.  We went to their Milano apartment which, like so much in this city, is ugly and unremarkable on the outside but gorgeous inside.  Lots of space, towering ceilings, heavy antique furniture, big pastoral paintings.

We headed out for a cappuccino, which Mrs. Bozzi explained was a morning drink.  No Italian would use milk in their coffee after lunch.  Then on to San Ambrogio.  It's Mrs. Bozzi's parish church, and she's in charge of their fund raising.  Thus she pulled strings and got us into the crypt, currently closed for restoration.  They're stringing the bones of three skeletal saints back together.  These preserved skeletons in their glass coffins are one of my clearest memories from my first trip to Italy, so macabre and alien.

Next on to Sforza Castle, which is a huge place.  There's lots there as you tour through the castle rooms, including a wine arbor room by Leonardo.  There's religious sculpture, armour and an unfinished Michaelangelo pieta that's very famous, but which I didn't find that thrilling.  I've never really warmed to unfinished art, though it is interesting to see a work in process.  Nearby we wandered through the Brera, a small museum with a famous collection.  It's not really geared for foreign tourists, as all the labels are in Italian.  The biggie here is Raphael's wedding of the virgin and Mantegna's Dead Christ.

We walked to La Scala.  After all those wide, straight Northern Streets I admit to being annoyed with the narrow, crowded ones.  The combo of heat and hunger made me and mom grouchy, so we stumbled into a burger joint in the Galleria.  I must give fast food joints at home more credit.  Hamburgers here suck.  But it was a needed energy boost to get us to the Duomo.

This is the most magnificent Gothic church in Europe.  Still, after I have seen so many others.  At about 4:30 we left the city and headed up to San Vito, the Bozzi's country place.  Nothing has changed but the faces.  It's still an idyllic place, though the view was hazed in today.

Elena is the same.  Over-energized, studying hard, gorgeous.  We swam and caught up.  Eventually we headed off with the family and some of their friends to the Varese Golf Club for an excellent dinner of pasta followed by some of the finest fillet mignon I've ever seen.  Only problem was that it was almost raw.  Evidently that's the way they do it here.  Mom and I sent ours back for more cooking.  They came out still too rare for us but we felt we had to be polite and eat them.

July 5
I was sad earlier in the trip that we couldn't get to Isola Bella, but we got there today.  It was just mom and me, and it was very foggy again.  I had an odd sense of deja vu; it's been eight years but not a thing has changed, and I remembered all of it as if it were yesterday.  I'd loved it so much then, and I loved it now.

The fading opulence perhaps didn't impress me quite so much, as I've seen so many other historic palaces since.  But it was the first palace I ever saw, so will be special.  Mom loved the gardens.  Later, back at San Vito, we went to mass and then had a simple supper of spaghetti carbonara on the terrace overlooking the valley below.

July 6
So, this is how rich people live.  We went to a tennis tournament at one of the other villas.  Each of the villas in the area is like San Vito, big estates owned by families with multiple generations and friends staying there.  The villas put together tennis teams and play each other at different courts throughout the summer, with buffets and drinks afterwards.  I wandered around formal gardens with Roman statuary, just like places we paid to get in ... but people live here.  The buffet table was groaning with delicacies, rice salads, quiches, marinated vegetables and fruit tortes.

July 7
It's finally clear.  We can see all the way to the mountains.  What a great day to go to Sacro Monte for the views.  There's a village at the top.  It's a place of pilgrimage.  There's a small Baroque church at the peak with a glass encased black marble madonna.  There's a chapel going up the hill for each of the mysteries, with life-sized wood carvings of the events.  It's all beautiful, but in disgraceful shape.

We headed back to Milano where lunch was a tomato salad with really soft mozzarella called insalata caprese.  I'd love to try this at home; I wonder if we can get this kind of cheese?  And then back onto the train, our time in Italy over all too quickly.

We have our own little cabin this time with a sink, luggage compartments and a steward to bring us food and make up the beds.  Despite being so comfortable I had trouble getting to sleep.  I was too fascinated looking in the illuminated windows of houes as we road through Switzerland.  Eventually, though, I slept soundly as we went over St. Gottard's Pass and back through Lucerne.