Saturday, 1 August 2015
When in Milan: love Milan
The train to Milan was, of course, late. I had felt that the AC had gotten a bit chilly, so I prepared to start getting dressed several layers (after checking the weather forecast while still in Sweden, I decided to not bring a single warm garment). I stepped out... and started to undress. It was in the middle of the night and hot, hot, hot.
The shops at the station were of course closed. Every single one. I had about an hour before my next train would come, so I went where my feet took me, which obviously was the Christmas-light-type shining staircase outside of the station. I went upstairs and got to THIS! Cool fountains that orgasmed blue and red coloured lava, there were PEOPLE (Sweden goes empty at night) that wondered around barefeet in the water, and across - a café that sells postcards. The salesman (good-looking, of course) translated with a bit of help from a lady (good-looking, of course) their messages, and I went for the most funny one.
I just wanted to make a short tour around the place, but my first mistake was to confuse right with left (never happened before). I have, at this photo, not realized it yet. I was busy being fascinated by what I was seeing.
I went down a lane which was crowded with well-dressed people and from then on, I just smiled constantly. There was so much life pulsing (well, a teddybear was killed to make this bag) around me and cafés were open, letting out cooling air, some cool ancient builsing was in the front and here I turned left again (bad, bad). After being all amazed by the atmosphere, I finally asked two (good-looking) guys where the station was, and I figured my only way out now was to RUN. I ran, I came, I saw that there were two departures displayed that both had the same time as my ticket - so where should I go? I went to ask a guard, and that was my first interaction in Italian, as he did ONLY speak Italian. But three days later, I now know that this little detail never a problem in Italy. You can wave your hands, use all the languages you know and in the end, it will somehow work. When the night train (which was 1.5 hours late) finally came, I spoke non-English with five hip 50-years old Italians and had like the best time in my life.
And after a very unsleepy night, I stepped of in Rome!