Culture

At a time when so many forces seem to be dividing us as a nation, it is tragic that President Trump seeks to co-opt or destroy whatever remaining threads unite us.

I refer, of course, to the U.S. men’s Olympic hockey team winning gold: the kind of victory that normally causes Americans to forget their differences and instead focus on something wholesome, like chanting “USA” while mispronouncing the names of the European players we defeated before taking on Canada.

This should have been pure civic oxygen. Instead, we got video of Kash Patel pounding beers with the players — which is not illegal, but does make you wonder whether the head of the Federal Bureau of Investigation has a desk somewhere with neglected paperwork that might hold the answers to the D.B. Cooper mystery.

Then came the presidential phone call to the men’s team, during which Trump joked about having to invite the women’s team to the State of the Union, too, or risk impeachment — the sort of sexist humor that lands best if you’re a 79-year-old billionaire and not a 23-year-old athlete wondering whether C-SPAN is recording. (The U.S. women’s hockey team also brought home the gold this year, also after beating Canada. The White House invited the women to the State of the Union, and they declined.)

It’s hard to blame the players on the men’s team who were subjected to Trump’s joke. They didn’t invite this. They’re not Muhammad Ali taking a principled stand against Vietnam, or Tommie Smith and John Carlos raising fists for Black power at the Olympics in 1968, or even Colin Kaepernick protesting police brutality by kneeling during the national anthem. They’re just hockey bros who survived a brutal game and were suddenly confronted with two of the most powerful figures in the federal government — and a cooler full of beer.

When the FBI director wants to hang, you don’t say, “Sorry, sir, we have a team curfew.” And when the president calls, you definitely don’t say, “Can you hold? We’re trying to remain serious, bipartisan and chivalrous.” Under those circumstances, most agreeable young men would salute, smile and try to skate past it.

But symbolism matters. If the team becomes perceived as a partisan mascot, then the victory stops belonging to the country and starts belonging to a faction. That would be bad for everyone, including the team, because politics is the fastest way to turn something fun into something divisive.

And Trump’s meddling with the medal winners didn’t end after his call. It continued during Tuesday night’s State of the Union address, when Trump spent six minutes honoring the team, going so far as to announce that he would award the Presidential Medal of Freedom to goalie Connor Hellebuyck.

To be sure, presidents have always tried to bask in reflected glory. The main difference with Trump, as always, is scale. He doesn’t just associate himself with popular institutions; he absorbs them in the popular mind.

We’ve seen this dynamic play out with evangelical Christianity, law enforcement, the nation of Israel and various cultural symbols. Once something gets labeled as “Trump-adjacent,” millions of Americans are drawn to it. However, millions of other Americans recoil from it, which is not healthy for institutions that are supposed to serve everyone. (And what happens to those institutions when Trump is replaced by someone from the opposing party?)

Meanwhile, our culture keeps splitting into niche markets. Heck, this year’s Super Bowl necessitated two separate halftime shows to accommodate our divided political and cultural worldviews. In the past, this would have been deemed both unnecessary and logistically impossible.

But today, absent a common culture, entertainment companies micro-target via demographics. Many shows code either right or left — rural or urban. The success of the western drama “Yellowstone,” which spawned imitators such as “Ransom Canyon” on Netflix, demonstrates the success of appealing to MAGA-leaning viewers. Meanwhile, most “prestige” TV shows skew leftward. The same cultural divides now exist among comedians and musicians and in almost every aspect of American life.

None of this was caused by Trump — technology (cable news, the internet, the iPhone) made narrowcasting possible — but he weaponized it for politics. And whereas most modern politicians tried to build broad majorities the way broadcast TV once chased ratings — by offending as few people as possible — Trump came not to bring peace but division.

Now, unity isn’t automatically virtuous. North Korea is unified. So is a cult. Americans are supposed to disagree — it’s practically written into the Constitution. Disagreement is baked into our national identity like free speech and complaining about taxes.

But a functioning republic needs a few shared experiences that aren’t immediately sorted into red and blue bins. And when Olympic gold medals get drafted into the culture wars, that’s when you know we’re running out of common ground.

You might think conservatives — traditionally worried about social cohesion and anomie — would lament this erosion of a mainstream national identity. Instead, they keep supporting the political equivalent of a lawn mower aimed at the delicate fabric of our nation.

So here we are. The state of the union is divided. But how long can a house divided against itself stand?

We are, as they say, skating on thin ice.

Matt K. Lewis is the author of “Filthy Rich Politicians” and “Too Dumb to Fail.”

The offbeat thriller has won six BAFTAs, including best film and best director for Paul Thomas Anderson.

The dark comedy One Battle After Another has swept the United Kingdom’s top film honours, picking up six BAFTA awards, including best film and best director for Paul Thomas Anderson.

The film beat the Shakespearean family tragedy Hamnet, and the vampire thriller Sinners, to take the top prizes at Sunday evening’s ceremony.

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The UK prizes, officially called the EE BAFTA Film Awards, often provide hints about who will win at Hollywood’s Academy Awards, held this year on March 15.

One Battle After Another, an explosive film about a group of revolutionaries in chaotic conflict with the state, won awards for directing, adapted screenplay, cinematography, and editing, as well as for Sean Penn’s supporting performance as an obsessed military officer.

“This is very overwhelming and wonderful,” Anderson said as he accepted the directing prize. “We have a line from Nina Simone that we used in our film: ‘I know what freedom is: It’s no fear’,” the director said. “Let’s keep making things without fear. It’s a good idea.”

Sinners, which has a record 16 Oscar nods, won best original screenplay for writer and director Ryan Coogler, best supporting actress for Wunmi Mosaku, and best original score.

The gothic horror story Frankenstein won three awards each, while Hamnet won two, including best British film.

The documentary about Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza, The Voice of Hind Rajab, was among the top contenders for BAFTA’s best director and non-English language film categories. But the film Sentimental Value won in the non-English language category.

The biggest surprise of the night was Robert Aramayo winning the best actor category for his performance in I Swear, a fact-based British indie drama about a campaigner for people with Tourette syndrome.

The 33-year-old British actor beat Timothee Chalamet, Leonardo DiCaprio, Michael B Jordan, Ethan Hawke and Jesse Plemons for the honour.

“I absolutely can’t believe this,” he said. “Everyone in this category blows me away.”

Jessie Buckley won best actress for playing Agnes, the wife of William Shakespeare, in Hamnet, based on the novel by Maggie O’Farrell and directed by previous Oscar winner Chloe Zhao.

The best documentary prize went to Mr Nobody Against Putin, about a Russian teacher who documented the propaganda imposed on Russian schools after Moscow’s invasion of Ukraine.

The film’s American director, David Borenstein, said that teacher Pavel Talankin had shown that “whether it’s in Russia or the streets of Minneapolis, we always face a moral choice”, referring to the protests against US immigration enforcement in Minnesota.

“We need more Mr Nobodies,” he said.

It beat documentaries including Mstyslav Chernov’s harrowing Ukraine war portrait, 2000 Meters to Andriivka, co-produced by The Associated Press and Frontline PBS.

The guests of honour at the awards were Prince William and Princess Kate. The event, hosted by Alan Cumming, was the first joint engagement for the pair since William’s uncle, Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor, was arrested on Thursday.

William, the president of the film academy, presented the BAFTA Fellowship to Donna Langley, studio head at NBC Universal.

This is not where you would expect an article about one of the Mediterranean’s most beautiful islands to start. It’s the tail end of winter, 2021. Kensal Green Cemetery in west London: the imperial mausolea canted and crumbling, low clouds dissolving into rain. We are still  in that  strange phase of the pandemic when we are masked, newly aware of our bodies and the space around them. We are here to bury Nikos, a man who for me, for many, was the incarnation of Corfu.

I had spent my 20s trying to find the perfect Greek island, hopping from the well-trodden (Mykonos, Santorini, Cephalonia) to the more obscure (Kythira, Symi, Meganisi). None quite matched the vision I had dreamed into being as a child, when I segued from Robert Graves to Mary Renault, then to Lawrence Durrell and John Fowles. Greece was an idea before it was a place: freedom and deep thought, a constellation of sand, salt and thyme.

Then, on a whim, I accepted an invitation to play cricket in Corfu.

I knew little about the island at the time – not about its strategic history, nor how that position had shaped a culture that is at once Greek, Venetian and British. I hadn’t yet walked the Liston, the elegant colonnaded arcade that might be Venice or Trieste, Bologna or Perugia were it not for the cricket pitch laid out in front of it. The pitch is surrounded by a car park; its groundsmen battle heat, salt spray, digging children and fouling dogs. Yet it remains the only cricket pitch in the world I know that’s set within a Unesco world heritage site. Taking guard there, you look up to the Old Fortress for solidity, and to the Palace of St Michael and St George for elegance and flair.

I went out with the Lord’s Taverners, a UK sports charity team. We were a motley bunch: a couple of former internationals – Andy Caddick and Chris Cowdrey – some actors, entertainers and a handful of writers, including me. The Corfiots, it turned out, were very good at cricket. The Greek national team is drawn almost entirely from the island. We were soundly beaten, then consoled by warmth, generosity and a run of excellent dinners in the Old Town.

It was over one of those dinners – at the Pergola – that I met Nikos Louvros and his wife, Annabelle, our hosts and the founders of Cricket Corfu. Nikos was rambunctiously Greek, full of wild energy; Annabelle was English in that particular way that falls deeply for Greece and builds a life around it. I recognised the impulse. By the end of the meal of lamb, ouzo and excellent local wine, we had planned our future together: we would launch a literary festival.

Over the subsequent years, that vision has taken glorious shape. Corfu literary festival began modestly: at our first, in 2017, there were as many speakers on stage as there were people in the audience. I remember Nikos’s hope, irritation and finally, characteristically, laughter as invited guests failed to show up. But there was never any sense it would stop. With Nikos beside you, everything seemed possible.

Slowly, buoyed by local support, the festival grew into something far larger than we had imagined. We’ve had Stephen Fry and Sebastian Faulks, Bettany Hughes and Natalie Haynes, Matt Haig and Tom Holland. They came and spoke, they stayed at the heavenly Kontokali Bay hotel, or in the villas and apartments of Ionian Estates, and they fell in love with Corfu as I had. Many have come back to speak several times.

Nikos lived for this – for showing others the beauty and drama of the island on which he was born, then left and returned to. He is gone now, but the festival endures. This September, it will return, larger and more magical than ever, with Homer’s Odyssey at its heart – a fitting subject for an island where the mythic and the everyday still fold into each other with ease.

This is what I learned from Nikos, and from Corfu, over the years: swim early, before the day warms and when the water still has a faint bite. Swim after lunch, when the sea feels silky. Swim at dusk, when the surface holds the day’s heat and the light becomes thick and slow. Corfu is large enough and varied enough that you can build an entire itinerary around water and never feel you are repeating yourself.

On the west coast, Myrtiotissa remains the beach that feels closest to a private miracle. Set in a steep green cradle, it is an initiation to reach it. Not unreasonably, Durrell called it “perhaps the most beautiful beach in the world”.

Paleokastritsa possesses a different kind of beauty. The monastery above the bay looks down over a scatter of coves where the water is so clear you can see the rocks far below, like a second landscape suspended in blue.

Then there is the north-east, which has calmer waters, protected coves, a more intimate coastline. Agni Bay is a gentle curve of shoreline made for long lunches. Agni Taverna sits close enough to the water that you can leave your table, swim and return still tasting salt. Eat fish, eat simply, let time loosen its grip. If you can, arrive by boat: the north-east coast has a tradition of taking water taxis between bays, and there is something unmistakably Corfiot about stepping straight from deck to lunch.

A surprise – especially if your image of Greek islands is Cycladic sparseness – is how green Corfu is. The interior rises and folds like a small country. Olive groves run for miles; cypresses spike the skyline. Drive up into the villages above Paleokastritsa and you reach Lakones, perched high enough to make the island feel suddenly vast. At Boulis, the food is good, but it’s the terrace view you come for, the sense of stepping straight into the blue horizon.

Corfu’s cuisine is not what you usually think of as Greek: shaped by Venetian influence, by centuries of contact with Italy and by produce from the island’s land and sea. Pastitsada is a beef stew with pasta; sofrito is beef or veal slices braised in a sauce of white wine, vinegar, garlic and parsley; bourdeto is fish stew.

In Corfu Town, make time for a night at Salto – contemporary but grounded, with excellent ingredients and a superb wine list. Then go for ice-cream at Papagiorgios. Walk the Old Town with a cone in hand, the stone still warm, and you feel part of a long tradition of summer nights.

In 2020, in a brief, improbable lull between Covid lockdowns, we held the festival as if it were an act of defiance against the gods. The world was half closed; plans changed by the hour. Yet, for a few days, the island opened its arms and let us in. Chairs were spaced out, masks slipped on and off, hand sanitisers were perched on every table – and still there was laughter, ideas, beauty. Things that made us feel human.

One morning, Nikos appeared with a boat. He had a gift for that – arriving as if from nowhere, already halfway into the next idea. “Come,” he said. A dozen of us climbed aboard and pulled away from the town, leaving behind the anxious news cycle and the low-level fear of that year. We ran along the north-east coast, cutting the engine in inlets you would never find from land: slivers of shingle, limestone shelves, beaches no bigger than sofas. Each time we stopped, we swam as if trying to slough the year off our skin. I felt like freedom, something snatched from darkness.

That was the last festival Nikos attended. He died of Covid the following January – on my birthday.

When I think of Nikos now, I think of that day on the water: of joy under pressure, of how precious it becomes. When he died, the island felt altered – not less beautiful, but more charged, as if the light carried grief in waves. Yet, Corfu also teaches something: that love for a place can outlive the person who brought you there, and become a way of honouring them.

I have tried to do that in my own way, too. My novel A Stranger in Corfu is dedicated to Nikos. It grew out of this island – its layered past, its atmosphere of secrecy and hospitality, the sense that stories cling to the land. The novel is, at heart, a love letter: an attempt to pay proper attention to a place that has given me more than I can easily name.

Go to Corfu and do not hurry. Swim often. Drive into the hills. Eat as if time were a gift. Let the island reveal itself at its own pace – slowly, then all at once.

And if, one day, someone appears with a boat and an idea, say yes.

A Stranger in Corfu by Alex Preston is published by Canongate (£18.99). To support the Guardian buy a copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply. The 2026 Corfu literary festival runs from 21-27 September

More than 7,000 languages are spoken around the world today and at least 3,000 of them, or 40 percent, are endangered.

English is the most widely spoken language, with approximately 1.5 billion speakers in 186 countries. Two out of every 10 English speakers are native, while the remaining 80 percent speak English as their second, third or higher language, according to Ethnologue, a database which catalogues the world’s languages.

Mandarin Chinese is the second most spoken language with almost 1.2 billion speakers. However, when accounting for native speakers, it is the largest language in the world, owing to China’s large population.

Hindi comes in third at 609 million speakers, followed by Spanish (559 million), and Standard Arabic (335 million).

Scripts in the world’s most popular languages

There are 293 known scripts – sets of graphic characters used to write a language – according to The World’s Writing Systems, a reference book about global scripts.

More than 156 scripts are still in use today, while more than 137 historical scripts, including Egyptian Hieroglyphs and Aztec pictograms, are no longer in use.

The Latin script, which is used to write English, French, Spanish, German and more, is used in at least 305 of the world’s 7,139 known living human languages. More than 70 percent of the world’s population use it.

Which are the most endangered languages?

Of the 7,159 languages spoken worldwide, 3,193 (44 percent) are endangered, 3,479 (49 percent) are stable, and 487 (7 percent) are institutional, meaning they are used by governments, schools and the media.

A language becomes endangered when its users begin to pass on a more dominant language to the children in the community. Many are used as second languages.

According to Ethnologue, some 337 languages are said to be dormant while 454 are extinct.

Dormant languages are those that no longer have proficient speakers, but the language still has social uses and the language is part of the identity of an ethnic community. Extinct languages are those that have no speakers and no social uses or groups that claim it as part of their heritage or identity.

According to Ethnologue, 88.1 million people speak an endangered language as their mother tongue. There are:

• 1,431 languages with fewer than 1,000 first-language speakers
• 463 with fewer than 100 speakers
• 110 with fewer than 10 speakers

Just 25 countries are home to some 80 percent of the world’s endangered languages. Oceania has the most endangered languages, followed by Asia, Africa and the Americas.

Some endangered languages include:

Oceania 

In Australia, Yugambeh, an endangered Aboriginal language, is spoken by the Yugambeh people, primarily across the Gold Coast, Scenic Rim and Logan in eastern Australia.

In recent years, a strong community-led revitalisation programme and the use of learning apps have made the language more accessible to younger generations.

Asia 

Japan’s Ainu (Ainu Itak) is a critically endangered language. According to UNESCO, it can’t be linked with certainty to any family of languages. The exact number of Ainu speakers is unknown, however a 2006 survey showed that out of 23,782 Ainu, 304 know the language.

Africa

In Ethiopia, Ongota is a critically endangered language.

It was spoken by a community on the west bank of the Weito River in southwest Ethiopia. There are only about 400 members of the community left, with a handful of elders speaking the language.

Americas

In North and Central America, almost all Indigenous languages are endangered. Louisiana Creole, a French-based creole with African and Indigenous influences, is a seriously endangered language in the United States, with it mostly spoken by elders.

Leco is an endangered Indigenous language spoken in Bolivia and is considered an isolated language – one that has no genetic relationship to other languages. The language is only now spoken by elders with a Leco ethnic population of only about 13,500.

Europe

Cornish (Kernewek), spoken in southwest England, was marked as an extinct language by UNESCO, until it was revived and in 2010 changed to an endangered language. It is spoken as a first language by 563 people according to the 2021 England and Wales census.

This quirky Frogtown sandwich shop, which also happens to serve some of the best soft serve in town, names each of its menu items after NPR hosts. One of the most popular options? The Ira Glass, Wax Paper’s riff on a classic hippie sandwich, named for the legendary host of “This American Life.” Slices of Bub & Grandma’s seeded sourdough wheat bread are swiped with a garlic aioli and then topped with half of an avocado, shredded Tillamook sharp cheddar, cucumber slices, both pickled and raw red onions for extra flavor, and a mountain of alfalfa sprouts. It’s crunchy, fresh and often sells out, so make sure to place your order early. $16.50

The legendary US actor was nominated for seven Oscars and won for his role as a washed-up country singer in Tender Mercies.

Oscar-winning actor Robert Duvall, best known for his work in The Godfather and Apocalypse Now, has died aged 95, his wife has announced in a Facebook post.

“For each of his many roles, Bob gave everything to his characters and to the truth of the human spirit they represented,” Luciana Duvall said in a statement on Monday.

Duvall was best known for playing forceful roles such as his depiction of Tom Hagen, consigliere to the Corleone Mafia family in The Godfather.

He also played Lieutenant Colonel Bull Meechum in The Great Santini and the title character in Stalin, as well as broken-down and fallen characters in Tender Mercies and The Apostle.

Duvall, the son of a US Navy admiral and an amateur actress, grew up in Annapolis, Maryland in the United States. After graduating from Principia College in Illinois and serving in the US Army, he moved to New York City, where he roomed with Dustin Hoffman and befriended Gene Hackman when the three were struggling acting students.

After working on a variety of television shows, Duvall made a strong impression in his first forays onto the big screen, such as his first movie part as the mysterious recluse Boo Radley in To Kill a Mockingbird.

Duvall got the part at the suggestion of the film’s screenwriter, Horton Foote, who had liked Duvall’s work in one of his plays. Foote later wrote Tender Mercies, a 1983 film for which Duvall won the Academy Award for best actor as a washed-up country singer.

Duvall was nominated for another six Oscars, including for his work in Frances Ford Coppola’s 1979 Vietnam epic Apocalypse Now. Duvall played the off-kilter, surfing-obsessed Lieutenant Colonel Bill Kilgore.

The character’s famous line, “I love the smell of napalm in the morning”, became legendary.

In all, Duvall appeared in almost 100 movies. And when he grew weary of Hollywood, he made his own films. He wrote, directed and won an Oscar acting nomination for The Apostle, the story of a conflicted preacher.

Duvall did the same with Assassination Tango, a movie that allowed him to exhibit his passion for the tango and Argentina, where he met his fourth wife, Luciana Pedraza.

In later life, Duvall split his time between Los Angeles, Argentina and a farm in Virginia, where he converted the barn into a tango dance hall.

Thousands of fishermen converged on the milky waters of the Matan Fadan river, a UNESCO heritage site, winding through verdant landscape in northwestern Nigeria’s Argungu.

President Bola Tinubu joined thousands of spectators on Saturday, cheering competitors vying to catch the largest fish, despite security concerns deterring some attendance.

Participants employed only traditional methods, including hand-woven nets and calabash gourds, with some demonstrating their prowess using bare hands. The Kebbi State waterway teemed with woven nets and canoes as fishermen waded through.

This year’s champion landed a 59kg (130-pound) croaker fish, winning a cash prize. Other participants sell their catch, stimulating the local economy.

The river remains closed throughout the year, overseen by a titled authority known as Sarkin Ruwa, the water chief.

The fishing contest marked the pinnacle of the annual international fishing festival, which showcased cultural displays, including traditional wrestling and musical performances.

“I thank God that I got something to take home to my family to eat. I am very happy that I came,” Aliyu Muhammadu, a 63-year-old fisherman who participated in the competition, told The Associated Press news agency.

The festival originated in 1934, marking peace between the extensive Sokoto Caliphate – a vast 19th-century Islamic empire spanning from Nigeria into parts of modern-day Burkina Faso – and the previously resistant Argungu emirate.

Considered a symbol of unity, the festival ran continuously for decades until 2010, when infrastructure problems and growing northern Nigerian insecurity forced its suspension. It briefly resumed in 2020 before pausing again until this year.

Nigeria faces complex security challenges, particularly in the north, where thousands of people have been killed in attacks over the years.

While Tinubu characterised the festival’s return as a sign of stability, for many, it represents restored community pride.

“Our challenge now is that people are scared of coming. A lot of people don’t attend the event like before because of insecurity,” said Hussein Mukwashe, the Sarkin Ruwa of Argungu.

A spokesman for the Co-op told the BBC: “Our culture, as a co-operative, ensured decision-making throughout has listened to views from leaders and colleagues across our food and wider business, whilst simultaneously acknowledging when a wide range of views are expressed, not everybody will always agree with the final decisions and actions taken.”

Born in Milan in 2000, Paralympic swimmer Simone Barlaam, is a 13-time world champion who won three golds and a silver medal at the 2024 Paris Olympics. He’s a torchbearer and ambassador for the Milano Cortina Winter Olympic Games, which run from 6-22 February (the Paralympic Games run from 6-15 March) at sites across Lombardy and north-east Italy (with events such as speed skating, figure skating and ice hockey in the city). He also worked as a graphic designer for the games.

Barlaam grew up in Milan and lives in NoLo (North of Loreto), a vibrant, artistic neighbourhood. “I’ve lived all over the place, so I can take you around the city and the places that belong to my heart,” he says. Here, he chooses his favourite spots, beyond obvious sights such as the Duomo, La Scala opera house and the glossy Quadrilatero della Moda fashion district.

Food

If I’m training, there’s this beautiful pastry shop next to my pool that I go to with my teammates after a long, hard session: Pasticceria Grossi in Piazzale Udine. It’s the best coffee place.

I like Panificio Storico Vailati on Via Vitruvio because the pastries are lovely, and it’s welcoming and warm – they treat you as if they’ve known you for the last 30 years.

Pizzeria da Mimmo near Chinatown has a special place in my heart because my parents always used to take us there for lunch. It’s a very small place and the pizza slices are very thick, soft and fluffy, like a cloud. Every time I go there, I feel like a kid again.

When I was a student, studying at the Politecnico di Milano, I would go to Grano e in Viale Romagna, where the food is very cheap and very fresh. If I want to treat myself I go to Ratanà on Via Gaetano de Castillia, it’s the restaurant of my friend and chef Cesare Battisti. It has traditional dishes like mondeghili, a type of fried meatball made of leftovers, and I think it does the best risotto in town. I also love a Vietnamese restaurant called Vietnam Mon Amour, where I used to go as a student. It’s tiny and the food is amazing.

Neighbourhood

Via Paolo Sarpi, in Chinatown is a must, and comes alive at night. There are so many places to eat – restaurants as well as amazing street food places. There are a few karaoke places too – it’s fun to go with your friends and just sing and make a fool out of yourself.

Fashion

Milan is the city of Armani, and there is so much of Giorgio’s legacy here. It’s an incredible honour to have developed a race suit with them. When Giorgio passed away, I went to the funeral and the queue of people there to say goodbye was kilometres long. That showed how much people love him and how his legacy affected this city.

Inspiration

The Acquario Civico di Milano, one of the oldest aquariums in Europe, was built in the early 20th century. There are sculptures of the sea and fish around the building. Part of the aquarium is outside, with freshwater fish; most of the displays are dedicated to Italian aquatic environments, though inside there’s a little tropical aquarium too. What I love about water is the sense of freedom it gives me, because obviously, for a person with a disability, I’m very clumsy and not very graceful on land – but in the water, I’m fast and can be agile. It feels almost like flying. I could stay for hours just watching a fish swim in an aquarium, it’s mesmerising. I have this passion that I can’t really express in words about swimming creatures, they give me a kind of peace.

Green space

Milan is full of little green parks, but Parco Sempione is one of the best and it’s connected to the medieval Castello Sforzesco, the triumphal arch Arco della Pace and the excellent Museum of Triennale. It has so many cool events – live music, concerts, exhibitions – they are displaying original Olympic posters until 15 March.

Accessibility

Most of the time, Milan is an accessible city. It’s flat, and with the upcoming Olympic and Paralympic Games, there have been many renovations in the city. For example, they’ve finally built an elevator at the metro stop in front of my house. But obviously we cannot stop here and we need to always improve because like every part of Italy, Milan is full old buildings that need to be made more accessible.

Culture

Obviously, Milan is well known for its culture and museums but there are plenty of hidden gems, too. One of them is the L.O.V.E. statue by Maurizio Cattelan, a contemporary visual artist. This statue in front of Milan’s stock exchange is a giant middle finger, and not many tourists go to see it. It’s interesting: it’s made of marble but is so different to classical buildings. It’s as if it’s saying, “screw you” to the Milan stock exchange building, which was built during the Ventennio (Italy’s fascist dictatorship).

There are many other museums that I love, such as the Mudec, the Museum of the Cultures of Milan. The Museum of Natural History is tiny but it’s in a beautiful building in a beautiful park. At the weekend it’s crowded with kids. I used to be one of those kids, I’d go there all the time. Outside they have lifesize models of dinosaurs. It’s amazing to think they used to roam on the land that became Milan back in the day.

Laura Coffey was a guest of Crowne Plaza Milan City and YesMilano