International Traveller, on the cheap

My family has been international for over 300 years, travelling and working all over the place, and I myself first travelled to foreign shores at the age of two and a bit - to Baghdad, if you must know - many moons ago, so I have a good pedigree on that score (woof!). My present, rather impecunious situation does not entirely preclude me from continuing this tradition, as regular readers will have discovered; I love travelling to places old and new, absorbing culture (yes, food and wine IS part of culture!) and meeting up with old friends or making new ones, though the budget is necessarily a rather tight one unless someone else (an employer or other) is paying.

When my old mate Fabio (not his real name, but in the shadowy demimonde I inhabit we have to protect ourselves...) suggested I should visit Italy so we could get together after several years, and by the way take a look at a potential business opportunity I immediately got the Lear refuelled and waiting for me at the end of the runway/Looked for a cheap ticket to Milan that did not involve pedalling or arm-flapping. Oh, get real, what do you think happened?

Thus it came to pass that last Tuesday I flew into Malpensa airport, having first experienced the delights of Luton Airport; this was a new experience for me, and almost enjoyable. The good people who run the airport are currently working hard to make it even more enjoyable and I look forward to admiring the fruits of their labours when they have completed this difficult task. Malpensa is not in a dissimilar position and almost as enjoyable; situated quite some distance north of Milan it is, at least the part that I had the chance to peruse, rather dingy and dispiriting, not at all reflecting Milan's wealth and power. I am reliably informed that there is a newer terminal there somewhere and I'm sure it is much more impressive.

My car complete with driver (grazie, Fabio) was, of course, there to greet me in style and lead me to a local restaurant to recharge the batteries. This was a simple establishment with good, plain food in massive portions, not your normal jet-setter habitat, and fitted the bill perfectly. To celebrate and show my delight at being there I ate the 'ear of the elephant', which was quite delicious if, as you can well imagine, somewhat big. And before you start calling all the animal welfare people and getting them all excited, this delicacy's real name is escalope Milanese style, a thin breaded piece of veal that is shallow fried and crispy, not the ear of a real elephant. Not that veal everywhere will find that reassuring!

Left to my own devices the following day by the busy-busy Fabio I concentrated on what I do best: being lazy. Until a long stroll in the late afternoon, taking in a lovely park near the Milan Aero Club (more of that later), I barely moved; I did do a lot of thinking though (yes, really!) and worked on aspects of my cultural development by watching some films on TV. I think I did good work there.

That evening I went to a smart dinner party in the centre of Milan, in a beautiful apartment and hosted by beautiful people, friends of Fabio's - he knows a lot of people! The evening was, at last, of a level befitting my jet-setting lifestyle, including some great food (no, I'm not going to tell you, thank you, and have you salivating all over your computers), interesting conversation, decent wines; I enjoyed it a lot, despite the fact that my rusty (very!) Italian prevented me from following all the flow of the conversation. This also stopped me from participating much, probably to the great relief of the others present. Let's say I impressed suitably with my reserve and wisdom...

They did want to know about Brexit, but more of that another time, when we are all ready for more on that subject.

Thursday was a business day, with an early start and miles to cover; my driver was capable and swift, taking me to my appointment at the right time; alas, however, the nice Italian man we were meant to be meeting was not on time, but running late. Still, when he did arrive the meeting went well and we parted with promises of eternal devotion, or at least an agreement that there just might be a possibility of a chance of some interest in doing business together somehow. And don't bring up my lack of money now, it's bad manners!

We were recommended to try, my driver and I, a good local restaurant for a spot of lunch in the shadow of a local, somewhat ramshackle, castle; it turned out to be really very good, pleasant and not unreasonably priced. We ate beautifully prepared and presented plates of pasta with excellent taste and texture, and enjoyed it hugely. The glass of red nebbiolo I tried was also pretty decent, but the poor driver couldn't drink, because he had to drive me all the way back to Fabio's. As the driver was, in fact, Fabio, and he was going back to his own home, it all worked out in the end.

The evening brought a different outing for dinner, to the rarified environment of the Milan Aero Club where Fabio is a revered member. The dining room was quite empty apart from a group of Fabio's pals, all into flying, and a family with a young hyperactive child past its bedtime and determined to prove Herod right. I was made to feel welcome by Fabio's Fellow Flyers, or at least tolerated, and was given the opportunity of having yet another elephant's ear but declined, imagining all your sensitivities (and rude comments), and had a peppery steak instead, followed by a tiramisu which was pleasant and nicely presented, if not thrilling.

I have come to realise that it is quite difficult to have a really bad meal in Italy, that you generally eat rather well, and that most establishments are very fairly priced - yes, I know it's a sweeping generalisation - except perhaps for the upper end of the market, of which my experience is limited. Italians like to eat well, will travel to do so, and demand appropriately high standards according to the status of an establishment. The wine is also important and even humble osterias have good quality wine glasses that bring out the best in the wine - and the customer! Perhaps at the very top end France is still champion, but Italy dominates the middle and lower middle ranges with excellent ingredients and comforting, tasty cooking. Except for chips (french fries to the uninitiated), if my limited recent experience of patatine was anything to go by: industrial, pre-cooked or just plain boring! I look forward to eating some good ones soon, in order to retract this...

So my busy three day visit drew to a close with a quiet morning at Palazzo Fabio and a short ride to Malpensa airport, where my jet was waiting to whisk me back to exotic Luton, and a train back to London. For little more than the cost of an inexpensive meal for two in London I managed to visit Milan, annoy the natives, ravage the ears of their elephants, and was back home before you had even noticed I was gone. What a little jet-setter I've turned out to be, continuing the long family tradition; alas I am also part of the international menagerie of the nouveaux pauvres!