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Reviews of Milan Expo 2015

How We Saw the Expoby Alfred Heller and Lee Anderson

Alfred Heller began attending world’s fairs in 1939 (San

Francisco). The Milan expo was his 20th. He founded and

edited the predecessor of this website, the print quarterly

“World’s Fair.” Author of World’s Fairs and the End of

Progress (2003), he has written extensively about these

great festivals.

Lee Anderson is an independent writer and researcher.

He , is the author of Congress and the Classroom (2007)

and the forthcoming novel, The Prince of Peace City.

Photos by Stephen Beale, Alfred Heller and Lee Anderson

How We Saw the ExpoBy Alfred Heller and Lee Anderson

Alf Heller:

Eighty-sixed by Expo 2015 Milano

It was my 20th world’s fair (see the list below). No matter. I was 86 years old, and that made all the difference. I walked down the mile-long central corridor, called the Decumano, my right toe hurting from a blister, my back in some pain, my energy, always high at an expo, flagging in the muggy heat of a spring day. The expo provided canvas shading at close intervals along the avenue, but places to sit were in short supply (in later weeks some were added). My son-in-law Lee Anderson scouted for the occasional shaded ledge or bench and if he found a vacant spot, sat in it and then yielded it to me when I shuffled in. Meanwhile, phalanxes of schoolchildren surged past and would not allow anyone to cross their paths. And at midday, tunes blared forth at the center of the throughway, and the expo’s mascot, an apple named Foodie, along with other costumed figures representing a large family of fruits and vegetables, pranced to and fro, hardly a substitute for the Cirque du Soleil stilted

marchers at Expo 2008 in Zaragoza. Well, the Cirque was coming to Milano. Maybe they’d take over.

Lee insisted that when he looked from one end to the other of the Decumano he could see the curvature of the earth. It was indeed a long walk, considering all the side trips one wanted to take—to pavilions, exhibits, restaurants, gardens, restrooms, outdoor theaters two-three-four deep both north and south of the avenue. A short boulevard called Cardo crossed the Decumano, culminating in the Tree of Life, the expo’s dominating symbol. After dark the tree was the center of a light-and-sound show in the middle of a pond: pulsing fountains and changing light patterns and colors in the tree, all closely timed to music, Las Vegas-style.

The expo’s Official Catalogue, strangely available only in a single bookstore/gift shop adjacent to the US Pavilion, explained that the tree was “inspired by the star design of the paving designed by Michelangelo for the square of the Capitol in Rome” and “best represented (the Italian Pavilion’s) theme Nursery Garden. Its roots penetrate deep into the strength and variety of Italian centers of excellence, which the Tree, in a fluid, symbolic gesture, projects onto the sky to redistribute around the whole planet.” And now you

know why the Official Catalogue weighs more that three pounds.

Expo Milano, with the food theme Feeding the Planet, Energy for Life, sprouted forth in an industrializing area on the edge of the fertile Po Valley, near Milan. It claimed some 140 participating nations and anticipated an attendance of 20 million. It’s difficult to verify such numbers at a modern expo–unless you are possessed of an insider’s knowledge of how the counting is done. For example, employees of the various pavilions and entities, who pour in by the hundreds and thousands, can hardly be counted every day as new attendees or paying attendees. But are they? And as for security personnel, who is going to ask an unsmiling guard armed with a Tommy gun (there are many such men and women patrolling the periphery of the grounds)—much less the police-types who swarm around the entrance gates—how they got through the turnstiles?

The world’s fair’s international, commercial, and thematic participants could be found in many guises across the fair’s 250 acres, depending largely on their levels of commitment and their political skills in dealing with each other and with the organizers. Major nations put up their own pavilions and exhibits. Others were slotted into thematic “clusters”: Arid Zones; Bio-Mediterranian; Cocoa and Chocolate; Coffee;

Cereals and Tubers; Fruits and Legumes; Islands, Sea, and Food; Rice; and Spices.

Using small tasting booths and simple displays, many small nations managed to make themselves, their agriculture and food production techniques noticed. However, some nations were not easily found, though they were listed as being present. On the other hand, commercial interests could dominate a cluster, or a neighboring cluster. The Belgian pavilion was next door to the chocolate cluster, for example, and the smell of Belgian chocolate seemed to hover over both places.

A further distraction was a variety of theme pavilions spread across the grounds. Pavilion Zero presented a series of films on giant screens. You could walk through this lofty space, starting with a convincing, crude and rude look at how prehistoric men and women acquired and consumed other animals, through films and animation (somehow projected inside narrow walls) about growing and raising animals and plants, through films touching on modern farming and agricultural techniques.

On the northwestern end of the site, Pavilion Zero was hard to find, but screenings by almost every exhibitor at the expo followed the thematic pattern set forth there. Plus participants put on entertainments, offered examples of regional cooking and gave vent to sponsors and their

products. First, though, came the large-screen message: with our climate, skills and crops, our small (large) nation can feed the world. “Too many screenings,” mumbled a granddaughter of mine who attended the expo and is a film-maker herself. The modern expo has indeed substituted movies of beautifully tended rows of crops for displays of the latest invention (the cotton gin, television).

Mid-afternoons we typically hailed a ride back into the city, figuring we could explore a bit around the Duomo (cathedral) plaza, eat a quiet dinner at any of the informal bistros in the area, and call it a day. But more often than not, as the day cooled down the lure of the expo and its many unexplored features drew us right back. One morning, however, we walked some of the narrow, pedestrian-only streets, and found ourselves in a large park. At the edge of the park was a grandiose, multistory building in the Fascist/deco mode of the Mussolini era: his security headquarters, with an heroic frieze carved on high, and a splendid restaurant on the ground floor. Good food, pleasant vibes I assure you.

Another day we managed to get tickets to see Leonardo da Vinci’s “Last Supper,” also near the center of Milan. Each small group that pulses into the convent where it is located has exactly 15 minutes to see this grand Renaissance mural close-up or at a distance. From either perspective it is impressive, moving!

It was, indeed, the ultimate meal in a town dedicated this summer to Food and Foodies.

*Expos attended by Alfred Heller: 1939 San Francisco,1962 Seattle, 1964 New York,1967 Montreal,1970 Osaka, 1974 Spokane, 1982 Knoxville, 1984 New Orleans, 1985 Tsukuba, 1986 Vancouver, 1988 Brisbane, 1992 Genoa, 1992 Seville, 1993 Taejon, 1998 Lisbon, 2000 Hanover, 2005 Aichi, 2008 Zaragoza, 2010 Shanghai, 2015 Milan

Lee Anderson:

Expo Milano 2015: Putting Food on the Table

 Expo Milano 2015 was a big tent, literally. The covered Decumano

colonnade was nearly a mile long, so the shade was welcome. The

Expo’s theme was a big tent, too. “Feeding the Planet/Energy for Life”

had room for McDonalds, CocaCola, factory farming, and alcohol. It

also had working gardens, hydroponic demonstrations, and the

largest (fake) tree in Italy.

It was my honor to accompany my friend and father-in-law Alfred

Heller to Milan. I am an expo tyro, so I benefited greatly by seeing the

expo world through Alf’s experienced eyes. We visited the expo in

mid-May 2015. I went again with my wife, Anne, and our college-age

daughters in mid-July 2015. Based on my longitudinal expo-sure, I

offer my observations as a supplement to Alf’s.

 

The Place Setting

Like the other first world expos I have attended (Aichi, Japan in 2005

and Zaragoza, Spain in 2008), the Expo Milano site was not easy to

reach. These cities needed to build a large site from scratch and it

looks like the Milan site resulted from a combination of urban

renewal, transit realignment, and swamp draining.

We rode the subway to the Rho-Fiera station to access the west

entrances (Fiorenza and Triulza). These gates offered the easiest

access to Pavilion Zero, a regiment of huge terra cotta warriors made

out of food, the expo gift shop, some of the pavilions described below

(Bahrain, Brazil, China), and the food group clusters. It was a long

walk from the west side of the site to the east side, so …

We also took taxis to the east entrance (Roserio) to get closer to the

main expo intersection (Piazza Italia), the Tree of Life, and a higher

concentration of interesting pavilions. For a much longer walk on a

sun-drenched elevated walkway…

We took a taxi to the remote south entrance (Merlata). The gate was

also served by subways, buses, and parking shuttles.

Once we entered the expo grounds, we used the perimeter bus to get

from place to place. The stops were situated in inconvenient spots

but they saved walking and, if we got seats, standing. The buses ran

frequently on a clockwise route around the site, kind of like the train

at Disneyland.

 

The Expo Food Chain

The people in charge of integrating the food theme into the expo

design did a reasonable job. There was much to learn about global

food systems and the countries, NGOs and corporations participating

in Expo Milano directly or indirectly addressed the theme. They

tooted other horns, too, like mineral resources, energy, and

tchotchkes. Many pavilions—surprise!—also sold food.

Bottom of the Food Chain—countries consigned to (or consumed by)

Food Group Clusters (e.g., Tanzania): I visited Tanzania a few years

ago and wanted to see its pavilion in Milan. Tanzania was one of

several countries from Asia, Africa, and Oceania that made up the

Spices cluster. The United Republic of Tanzania had free run of a

small square room. The walls were covered with photos, maps, and

posters. The rest of the room was devoted to handcrafts and other

Tanzania products, all for sale. A single employee was on hand to

sell these souvenirs and staff the aromatic coffee bar.

The food chain’s second link consisted of detached, single-country

pavilions on a small, apparently non-corporate scale (e.g.,

Turkmenistan, Bahrain): Lots of products from Turkmenistan, huge

carpets hung tapestry style, and a library of vital Turkmen texts were

featured in the high, airy main room. The pavilion also paid due

respect to the personage of Gurbanguly Berdimuhammedow, the

country’s president who made a bold, spontaneous bid to host the

2022 Expo. Bahrain’s pavilion featured authentic flora and antiquities

of this island kingdom in the Persian Gulf. The building looked like my

image of a hotel in Palm Springs, another desert oasis with more

money than water.

Third, pavilions that showcased a concept rather than the sponsoring

country (e.g., United Kingdom, Netherlands): The UK pavilion was

anchored by a huge metallic beehive—a magnet for selfies—and a

leafy labyrinth illustrating the importance of bees to pollination and

the agricultural products of Britain and Northern Ireland. (Alf told me

the beehive reminded him of the Seed Cathedral at the Expo 2010

UK pavilion in Shanghai.) The Netherlands pavilion consisted entirely

of food trucks, a beer garden, and beanbag blobs for post-meal

lounging. The live music often blaring at the Poland pavilion next year

added a party vibe to the already playful Netherlands space.

(Speaking of Holland, the New Holland Agriculture corporate pavilion

nearby displayed a working tractor on its sloped sod roof.)

A fourth category of pavilion showcased the sponsoring country, an

innovative concept or two, and arresting architecture. The examples

here are Russia, the United States, Kuwait, and Austria. Russia had

an interesting exhibit on food science and technology and a show

kitchen where visitors could watch food preparation and eat the result

(thick borscht during our visit). Alf and I also went to the café for

some fine Russian red ale and sat in a booth in a simulated rail car.

The Russian countryside rolled by “outside” the train on large video

screens. The United States pavilion, “American Food 2.0,” had living

walls on the outside and a spacious inside designed “to evoke the

lines of a traditional American barn.” It had the types of multimedia

displays offered by other pavilions and a penthouse bar/nightclub with

great views and occasional live music. Kuwait had a multimedia

meditation on desert agriculture, water, and oil, and interactive

displays on the county’s culture and history. Austria was all about

oxygen—the kind you BR-EAT-HE (the pavilion’s principal motif) and

the kind made by the many plants growing in the botanical garden

inside. Special viewing devices gave information about the plants and

a welcome cloud of mist watered the flora and human fauna inside.

At the top of the food chain were pavilions full of vision, artistry, and

the Feeding the Planet theme (e.g., Brazil, China, Japan): Brazil had

actual farming taking place along an open-air colonnade, partially

shaded by panels made of wooden slats and a wavy, supposedly

walkable expanse of stretched hemp mesh. Inside the pavilion were

agricultural displays, an eatery, expensive clothes and crafts, and—

during the early weeks of the Expo run—a fabulous art exhibit,

Alimentário, on farming and the politics of food and hunger in Brazil.

China and Japan, recent hosts of expos of their own, offered

pavilions that were both conceptual and comprehensive. China’s

“Wheat Field of Hope” diverted visitors snaking from the educational

displays on the first level to the exhibits upstairs. Each station in

Japan’s pavilion doubled as a staging area for the next event,

culminating in a virtual, interactive “meal” and an elaborate display of

plastic food.

 

Victual Reality

We enjoyed another food chain at Expo Milano: options for actual

eating. Good food could be found at many of the country pavilions

(Indonesia, Japan, Netherlands), and plenty of uninspired (or worse)

food at expo-run establishments, restaurants in the Italy area, and

Food Truck Nation (sponsored by USA). There were some good,

uncrowded food places on the perimeter of the expo that served

sushi, salads, and smoothies. Many of the eateries required you to

order and pay in one place and pick up your food in another.

(Ordering was automated in the Japan pavilion restaurant, although

there were attendants, too. My daughter and I lunched there and

happened to sit with the head of the Japanese corporation that ran

the pavilion’s food concession. He was delighted to hear that we had

also been to the 2005 Expo in Aichi.)

Finally, there was a large, well-stocked grocery store near the

Roserio gate. For the hundreds of expo employees and anyone else

needing staples, it was a thoughtful and practical way to emphasize

the food theme.

Dessert

If you don’t like the food chain metaphor, perhaps you should think of

expos as plants that only bloom—or bear fruit—every few years. The

flowers and fruits might differ over time, so it is worthwhile to see

more than one example. Smell the flowers, taste the fruit, and make

reservations soon for Expo 2017 in Astana, Kazakhstan. The theme

for 2017, Future Energy, reminds us that we ought to start stoking up

now.

Mossback does Milan’s Expo 2015By Knute Berger

Knute Berger writes for Crosscut.com, a Seattle-area news

website. He also writes a monthly column for Seattle magazine. This article first appeared in Crosscut.com. and is reprinted with permission.

Photos by Knute Berger and Carol Poole

The U.S.A. Pavilion at the world's fair in Milan. Credit: Carol Poole

The “selfie” makes a perfect metaphor for a world’s fair: an event where the nations of Earth gather to show off what they know, and who they’re with — all with the idea of promoting a new self-image.It’s more than a metaphor in Milan at Expo 2015. Here, world’s fair visitors take selfies with pavilion staffers in exotic Arab robes or next to mascots in the shape of giant tomatoes, all understandable. A bronze sculpture of a man sitting on a bench on the Expo’s main concourse is specifically designed with an open seat where visitors are encouraged to plop down and snap a “foto o selfie.” A fast-food vendor, James Bint Belgian Fries — a tasty successor to the famed Belgian waffles of the 1960s — encourages customers to take selfies with the company’s posters. Even Milan’s daily newspaper, Corriere della Sera, advertises itself at the fair on a large flat screen with images of Italians taking pictures of themselves.

Selfies aren’t just self-promotion, they are content.It works because fairs have become more digital, not simply as showcases for high-tech 4D multimedia experiences, but because fully experiencing a fair nowadays involves having a

digital relationship to it. Everyone carries a smartphone now — a far cry from fairs in the ‘90s where cutting-edge exhibitors offered Internet cafes where guests could send an email — an actual email! — home. Young schoolchildren, who are legion in groups at the Milan fair, have smartphones and often rush up to an exhibit of, say, ancient cultural artifacts, snap innumerable pictures and move off without having looked at the actual objects. The digital, wireless revolution that puts such powerful devices as an iPhone in our hands has become the way fairs are seen, processed and remembered by millions.A symptom of the transition to digital: Milan’s is the first Expo in my memory that does not have a post office on-site. Postcards are rapidly becoming a thing of the past, and Expo stamps for collectors only.

Still, the fair itself exists in the analog world — imaginative architecture, beautiful landscaping, vast and crowded spaces. The Milan fair is located on nearly 250 acres of land in the transition zone of industrial to agriculture on the edge of the city. It would be a bit like if Seattle built a world’s fair in Tukwila. At one end is urban Milan, on the other the fertile Po Valley, source of much of Italy’s agricultural production. A Metro subway

line speeds visitors there in 20 minutes from the city center. The fair runs through October.

The mile-long Decumanus is the fair’s main fairway. Credit: Carol Poole

The Expo’s layout consists of an east-west street called the Decumanus, a road about a mile long lined with scores of pavilions and covered by canvas to protect against the sun and elements. A cross street about two-thirds

of the way along called the Cardo provides north-south access and a main piazza — the road arrangement is taken from the standard of old Roman cities. The result is a kind of broad market street for the visiting pedestrian hordes.

The theme of the fair is Feeding the Planet, Energy for Life, and who could resist a world’s fair in Italy on the subject of food? The Expo delivers on its topic in interesting ways. With over 100 countries participating, the issues of hunger, global warming, water and the food chain are front and center, and can be experienced in numerous ways — from elaborate pavilion exhibits to tasty street food.The United States Pavilion, under the auspices of the James Beard Foundation, offers a look at America’s regional cuisine. Guest chefs, including Seattle’s Maria Hines of Tilth and Naomi Pomeroy of Beast in Portland, are scheduled to cook not on the fairgrounds but in Milan’s original mall, the glorious Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. On the fairgrounds near the American pavilion is the so-called Food Truck Nation, a popular court filled with pseudo-food trucks hawking American barbecue and burgers. There’s nothing that seems so American as linking fast food with big vehicles.

Other nations have terrific restaurants attached to pavilions that seem designed to lure you in. During my days at the fair, I sampled bitterballen from Holland and fish balls from Oman, Belgian fries and fiery Indonesian satay, lamb tagine from Morocco and japchae and mushroom porridge from Korea. The South Korean pavilion is a shrine to kimchi — a centerpiece is a giant kimchi jug. At the end of the exhibit is a first-class restaurant featuring Korean specialties, and a long wait to get in.  The Eataly Italian food court features specialties from every Italian region — octopus with potatoes from Liguria. Yum. Oh, and the vodka gelato from Belarus hits the spot on a hot day.This fair clusters some nations by the foods

they export: chocolate, rice, legumes, tubers. And coffee. Milan happens to be the city whose espresso cafes inspired Howard Schultz to turn Starbucks from a coffee-bean retailer to an international purveyor of lattes. An Expo visit must be powered by caffeine, and grounds are readily available on the fairgrounds.Selfies cannot replace the experience of eating, but somehow taking pictures of what you ingest and posting them to Facebook or Instagram is an integral part of the experience, feeding an endless appetite for images.

The Japan pavilion is an impressionistic exhibit that takes you through virtual experiences, like wading through a digital rice paddie. But it ends in another place where the digital and analog meet. In a circular performance theater showcasing what they call “the restaurant of the future,” visitors sit at table tops with built-in digital screens that act as in-depth menus telling you what fresh foods are available, where they are sourced and what to eat by season. Visitors are taught to use chopsticks, then instructed to tap their screens to “order” a seasonal meal. If nothing else, the interactive menus do a better job of selling sushi than those small plastic replicas of the rice and fish concoctions so often seen in sushi parlors in Japan. But the message is: digital is a means to

an analog end.

Robots sorting apples in Supermercato del Futuro

The same message appears in another pavilion featuring the “Supermercato del Futuro,” a vast, Whole Foods-like emporium, but better organized. Gone are clerks. A robot sorts apples, and by merely waving a hand over an item — oranges or prosciutto — you activate an electronic display of price and sourcing information. You wonder, why do we rely on cramped food packaging with micro typography to tell us what we’re buying?

In contrast, the fair’s Slow Food Pavilion, here at the birthplace of the movement in a country where every town insists its own specialties are the best in Italy, comes in a re-usable hand-

built wooden structure set up like a farmer’s market with artisanal suppliers leading you through tastings of cheese and “slow wine.”The contrast in styles is reflected all up and down the food chain: small and local versus big and corporate. Both have their virtues, and downsides. Crop diversity, sustainability, local knowledge and adaptation are keys to the future; so is figuring out how to keep the planet efficiently watered and fed, with advances in science and technology. Attendees range from a global colossus like Coca Cola with a peppy pavilion featuring Pharell William’s song “Happy” — ideally suited to the kind of Coke commercial optimism world’s fairs like to promote — to guests like environmental activist Vandana Shiva, whose Expo appearance was accompanied by a media scrum worthy of a Kardashian.

Some ask, why not make world’s fairs digital? Americans tend to think that Expos are passé; the last held in North America was in Vancouver in 1986. Yet despite digitization, the fairs thrive around the world. Why? One reason is that you can appreciate a plate of polenta and sausage online, but you can’t eat it there. Fairs are feasts for the senses, for human interaction. They are temporary cities with all the virtues of urban life — activity, diversity,

and community — yet few of their workaday headaches. At their best the fairs spark the imagination and hope. At their worst, they’re ephemeral, superficial and propagandistic. They are temporary, real-world fantasy worlds.

They are also full of surprises. I think of a world’s fair as a high-tech alternative to the Amazon model writ large. Amazon is brilliant for helping you buy what you know you want. World’s fairs, like good bookstores, are great at introducing you to stuff that you never knew you wanted, or wanted to know.I learned, for example, that the cherry tomato was an Israeli invention and that drip irrigation might help save the planet. I learned that Uruguay is gay-friendly and am considering adding it to my bucket list. I discovered that cultivated apples originated in the Tien Shan mountains of Kazakhstan. I also learned the Kazakhs drink horse milk for its special nutritional and healing properties, but I still passed on the horsemeat salad offered in their restaurant.Perhaps I’ll get my courage up to try it at their upcoming Expo slated for 2017 in Astana.