Off to Cernusco and Merate

I've spent the last couple of days with Gauss's uncle Eduardo in Cernusco, a town on the edge of Metropolitan Milano. He has been helping me to retrieve paintings from Gauss's cousin Donato in the Frisia hometown of Merate, about halfway between Milano and Lake Como. 

Eduardo's new home is a unit in an old house built around a courtyard.

Eduardo on the balcony of his home

My room was a little sleeping loft above the entryway in the living room

As they were for me, 2018-2019 were rough years for Eduardo. As Aldo's brother and Gauss's uncle, he lost both of them in 2018. His wife Anna Sorteni Frisia died in early 2019, and his sister Adriana just a few months later. Eduardo sold the family home in Monza and has moved to a smaller—but still lovely—place in Cernusco sul Naviglio. He has hired an equally lovely woman named Hamza, originally from Morocco, as an assistant. Even though she wasn't there the evening I arrived, Hamza saved us awkward silences by talking Eduardo (and me) through the setup of some instant translation apps that worked a little faster than Google Translate. 

Hand-drafted detail of Budapest from Eduardo's atlas

Knowing that I loved maps, Eduardo pulled out an atlas that was probably about 70 years old. It was just so graphically beautiful that I had to take a photo of a random city detail. They don't make maps like they used to. 

Downtown Cernusco sul Naviglio

Cernusco is kind of the Italian equivalent of Stillwater, a small town that has been absorbed into the larger metropolitan area. It retains its small town feel, Italian style (parking is still nearly impossible but walking is a delight) and it's very green, with parks, trees, and lots of breathing room. If I moved to Italy, this is the kind of place where I would like to live. The downtown is tiny and charming, with narrow streets and a central piazza paved in river stones and shaded by two large trees. Cernusco is connected to central the Milano by an 18 km-long bike trail.

Detail of a magnolia tree in central Cernusco. I had seen magnolia blossoms before but never the fruit.

In Cernusco's central piazza with the magnolia in the background. It was about 65°F. I was sweating; Eduardo was bundled up with coat, sweater, dress shirt, and wool undershirt. How can these Italians wear so much clothing??

The morning after I arrived, Hamza showed up and drove us north to Merate. Once we got to town, they asked me for directions to Donato and Anna's home. They had assumed I knew, and I had assumed they did! Hamza pulled into a parking lot and with the translation apps, some quick emailing, and messaging on WhatsApp, we got the address. I don't always love GPS but it saved us on this occasion.

Eduardo is from the Rescigno side of the family; he had not seen Donato and Anna (from the Frisia side) for about thirty years, so we sat for awhile and visited. Then he and Hamza continued on to Como to visit a museum that now holds a collection of his late wife Anna's religious artifacts. (Apologies for potential confusion, there are two Annas in this entry.) 

Donato's wife Anna Zanatta Frisia made us an impressive lunch: spaghetti alla carbonara, chicken marsala, fruit, and an apricot tart. I watched her in the kitchen, and as she cooked, we talked about her preparation (I won't use the term "recipe" because she doesn't follow one.) And get this, American cooks: she asked if I could get Barilla pasta in the U.S. and encouraged me to buy it because according to her, it is the best. When I told her there is a big Barilla factory just south of us in Iowa she was impressed.

Donato had prepared a sturdy tube containing the paintings, and issued detailed instructions on how the paintings inside should be stored once we took them out. Donato's care in preparation was impressive, especially considering his health. COVID hit him very hard, despite having been vaccinated. He used to be robust and quick-witted. Now he can barely walk across the room without having to stop and catch his breath. Between courses of our two-hour lunch, he had to leave the table and doze on the sofa. He is always tired and suffers from brain fog. Seeing how droopy he was, I texted Eduardo and Hamza not to stay away too long.

Sadly, I didn't take photos there; I think Donato's wife Anna may have, so I will ask them to send me some.

Hamza dropped us back at Eduardo's place where he and I prepared a small dinner, just salad and a bit of mozzarella, and I stayed one more night. Hamza showed up the next morning and the three of us enjoyed each other's company with the help of the translation apps. With that barrier gone, I was able to get beyond simple phrases like "where's the bathroom?" and "I like pizza" and converse with Eduardo about family history and how we've dealt with the recent losses in our lives. 

Hamza and Eduardo in the kitchen. Lunch consisted of local salami, tomatoes with herbs, spiced green olives, roasted potatoes, and a selection of breads from the bakery where Hamza's husband works.

I had forgotten to pack a pair of shorts for this trip. That's actually a lie; to save room I decided not to pack a pair, but now that it is warmer than I expected and I'll be hiking in Trento I need them. I'd shopped for some in Milano, but even though temperatures there were around 80°F stores were only carrying fashion items: sweaters and woolen slacks for fall. I asked Hamza if she could recommend any place in Cernusco where I might find shorts. I told her I wasn't picky; they could be ugly as long as they were functional. I said I'd even settle for buying a pair of sweatpants and cutting the legs off. 

She drove me to a big open air market where people sell all kinds of items from electronics to locally made cheeses to furniture. Parking was a nightmare; after circling several totally full lots, she wedged her little car into an illegal space, hoping that we would complete our shopping before she got ticketed. I would have loved to browse the wide variety of items in the market, but we were on a mission. Within five minutes I found a pair of Adidas workout shorts. The proprietor of the stand invited me to duck behind a display and pull them on under my dress to check the fit. They did, I handed over 20 euros, and we sprinted back to the car, mission accomplished.

After this brief shopping jaunt we finished with a simple but delicious Mediterranean lunch. Hamza's husband works in a bakery and she brought some amazing breads and savory pastries. Conversation was convivial and easy; Hamza and I compared notes about our children and our language-learning efforts.

It was time to return to Milano, and I left having made a new friend in Hamza and feeling like I had finally gotten to know Eduardo forty years after first meeting him.