No worries, I obsess over a lot more than Italian churches

For example, the past couple of weeks I've been focusing on Walt Disney World.
Yes, we've been there before. Numerous times. But we've decided to split our home leave this summer between Orlando and Houston, so there's a real, live event to plan for. And restaurants to book. And a toddler to indocrinate.
I'm only partly kidding about that last one. We don't want a repeat of the Great Buzz Lighyear Incident of 2010. His current interest in barking and meowing means he's watching 101 Dalmations a lot (actually the sequel when Patch goes to London), and the dalmations don't do character appearances. But at least it's something.
We're not staying in a resort hotel this trip -- it's part of an effort to economize as much as possible -- so we won't do as much Disney dining as we typically have. That hasn't stopped me from checking for hypothetical restaurant options, though. And the question of whether we'll drive from the hotel to the parks probably was settled by the information I received from a very nice woman who answered the phone at our hotel when I called the other day.
And I haven't even mentioned Universal Studios and my careful research of Harry Potter World. Don't even get me started on that ...
Yes, this all still is months away. Will I move on to another obsession soon? Probably. But I'm more than willing to share details on our favorite guidebook or to compare and contrast crowd level projections for various days. I'm nothing if not thorough.

Isn't Thomas even creepier than usual when he's slightly out of focus?

Yeah, I thought so.
What's going on these days: speech assessments, sick kid, an earthquake, lots and lots of trains -- some of them creepier than others.

Oh, look, I'm writing about books again

I haven't stopped reading but somehow have stopped writing about what I'm reading. This will catch me up only a little.
Several months ago, I came across a couple of Marshal Guarnaccia Investigation novels in the consulate library. They're set in Florence quite a few years ago, but the stories are interesting.

The first one I read was Death of an Englishman. Yes, the name is a bit dramatic, but it is about an Englishman, and it's fairly brief and quick to read. (I think it's the first in the series, and it seems the author, Magdalen Nabb, may have written more each time as the series progressed. Sort of like J.K. Rowling, you know.)
I think the most enjoyable thing about this book was the characters and the way, as a reader, you really can picture the neighborhood (and its personalities) while reading it. And unlike with some such stories, I didn't find myself feeling sorry for the murder victim.

The other book I read isn't the second one in the series, but I don't think a lot of the story really carries over from book to book. This one, The Marshal Makes His Report, was a lot more disturbing to me. I don't mean that in a particularly bad way, just that there were a lot of people to feel sorry for.
Part of what makes reading nonfiction so much fun, at least to me, is reading about situations I'd never be a part of otherwise. I can say this book was full of those for me.


I'll be reading some more of the series for sure, but since there don't seem to be any more floating around the bookshelves at the consulate, the others likely will be on the Kindle. I hope they'll be just as excellent.

Foreign Service swap

My friend Ottawa Amy -- not a name she actually goes by, but I think it sounds cool -- is organizing another Foreign Service swap. So, if any of you reading this are FS and are interested, click here for the details.
The whole thing is a lot of fun. For the first swap, we were in Trinidad and were assigned to someone in Iceland. For the second, we already were in Milan and were assigned someone in El Salvador. It's a fun way to learn about other places and to exchange some cool random objects from your post. Join us!

A day at the (cross-country ski) races

Cross-country skiing's World Cup races are in Milan this weekend, and we spent a little while this afternoon watching some qualifying and quarterfinals races.
In Parco Sempione.
Seriously, when I first noticed the World Cup posters a few weeks ago, I thought they were saying Milan because we were the closest city to whatever mountain location they were using. But no, they trucked in snow -- the city hasn't had a single flake this winter -- and raced around some of the paths between Castello Sforzesco and the duck pond.
Way cool.
This screen was set up behind the Castello.
I think there was another big screen by the Duomo, but we didn't make it down there.
The stands were only for VIPs, which of course we aren't. So we walked around until we found a clear spot to watch. These guys (and girls) were pretty fast considering there were no hills on the course.
Because there were staggered starts for qualifying, it was only individual racers who zoomed by. But when we came back after lunch, there were a few groups warming up and practicing.
Meanwhile, Laura got this close-up of the tracks they left:
Owen was grumpy by this time, so we only stayed for a couple of the women's quarterfinals races. But I am curious about how many of them end up with pole-poke injuries on corners such as this:
Someone has to ask the tough questions.

Hardship Homemaking

Foreign Service (and other expat) types might be interested in this relatively new blog, which is all about cooking from scratch and finding creative ways to solve lifestyle-type problems that crop up when you can't just go out and buy things you want/need.
Yesterday I shared my granola recipe, a slightly different version that I posted here awhile back. You can see my post here. There also are links for contributions and questions, which are encouraged.

More on "Mary and Jesus in a Tree of Floating Baby Heads"

I originally wrote about this painting here. It's significant for many reasons, partly because it's by Andrea Mantegna and painted in 1497. Its real name is Madonna in gloria e santi Giovanni Battista, Gregorio Magno, Benedetto e Girolamo or the Pala Trivulzio, as it was part of an altarpiece.
I thought about it again recently when I came across it on the Web site of the Restauratori e Restauri in Museo project, which is educating museum-goers on the history of various paintings through chronicling restoration work that has been done on them. It sounds fascinating, although I haven't been to see any of the displays as of yet. (I have been to all of the museums and seen the paintings before, though.)
You can read more about the history of the Mantegna, which is in the pinacoteca at the Castello Sforzesco, here. The main Web site also has information on the other three pieces currently included in the project: Michele da Verona's Crocefissione, which is in the Brera; the Ancona della Passione in the Museo Diocesano; and Gaetano Previati's Madonna degli Gigli, which is in the Galleria d'Arte Moderna di Milano.
Don't be scared away by the Italian names; most of the information on the Web site has been translated into English.

Did anyone else in Milan notice this?

The night of the consulate Christmas party, as we walked home, all three of us who notice and discuss such things mentioned the extreme lean being exhibited by the tree in front of the Duomo.
Heck, Owen probably would have noticed it, too, if he hadn't been falling asleep.
I didn't get a photo then, though, and didn't think about it again until last week. Then I finally snapped this:Maybe I won't feel so bad the next time I have a crooked Christmas tree ...

Adventures in northern Italy: Monte Berico, Vicenza

We've been to Vicenza numerous times for shopping and even to see some sights, but we'd never gone up to Monte Berico until this weekend. The church opened in 1429 and is on a hill overlooking Vicenza. (There's an interesting staircase from city level to the church, but I don't have any photos of it.)We didn't go into the church -- such visits are limited to about 6.5 minutes with Owen these days, so we'll go back later -- but we did spend some time in Piazzale della Vittoria, the square in front of the church that has lovely views of the city.
Here's an example:Supposedly it's also possible to see the Venetian lagoon from up there, but I didn't think to look for it. I guess that'll be a goal for our next visit, too.

All because we took a different exit from the metro

Generally speaking, metro stations on Milan's Yellow Line are the only ones with elevators. This comes in handy pretty often -- the consulate is on the Yellow Line -- but it also means I tend to take certain routes because they're easier.
But yesterday I decided I'd carry Owen and his stroller up the stairs at the Missori station instead, and we ended up in Piazza Missori. I've been there numerous times but never had seen the gate to the crypt of San Giovanni in Conca open. This time it was, though, and we decided to descend into its depths.
The church doesn't really exist anymore; this, which was the apse, is all that's left at ground level:An aside: This is the kind of pose one gets after instructing their preteen to "look like you actually want to be here."
So, I'd seen this little piece of Romanesque ruins tons of times but not the crypt. I was so glad we happened by when it was open. One of the volunteers working -- the Touring Club of Italy mans many of Milan's free sites -- took us around to explain all of the photos, illustrations and maps, as well as a section of aqueduct that also happened to flow through the crypt. I understood much of what he told us but wondered why the church had been torn down. (One of the photos, from 1885, shows the campanile with scaffolding on it.) My later research showed that much of the building was razed to make way for Via Mazzini (in 1879) and then was reduced to its current tininess in 1949. But the Waldensians, who owned it by then, used the facade on their new church.
So now I guess I need to go find THAT, as well as pay more attention the next time we're in the archaeology section of the Sforzesco Castle musuem, where most of the real artwork from San Giovanni in Conca now resides.

Oh, look! It's another Ambrosian church!

This morning I made the executive (read: boring, educational mom) decision to visit San Nazaro in Brolo, which is one of the churches St. Ambrose built in Milan. This one was started in 382 (nope, there's not a 1 missing there) on the main road to Rome.
One might see the facade and think it's not very exciting:but rest assured that isn't the real facade. It's the crypt of an important family that Bramantino (not his real name, but he was an understudy of Bramante) designed in 1512. So, the real facade is covered up.
I must say, though, that if I was going to have a crypt, I'd definitely want it to have a dome like this one:
Of course, the inside of the main basilica is lovely as well:
There's also some lovely artwork, but we didn't get any clear photos. Maybe next time.
One of our guidebooks mentioned that the back of the church was dramatic-looking. I'm not sure I'd describe it as dramatic, but it's probably just as interesting as the front:
And here's a completely unrelated bonus photo, this one of a nativity scene inside the church:

San Maurizio. Again. And again.

I've written about San Maurizio before, and I've been there at least a couple of times without writing about it. But I finally took Laura there the week before Christmas, and she agrees with me that the frescoes are awesome. (We don't always agree on things, so this is significant.)
I found it significant that I was drawn to this, as we were there a couple of days before Christmas and it depicts Jesus' family's escape to Egypt:
It isn't often that I consider black-and-white paintings to be worthy of the same study as their color counterparts, but the ones at San Maurizio really are.
I have grand plans to make photo books of many of our adventures here. Maybe one of the books will be all about St. Ambrose. There he is again, in awesome color, keeping watch over everyone:
I think San Maurizio is worthy of its own photo book for sure. I guess I'll have to return a few more times to take more photos. Wanna tag along?