This is the view from Paolo"s room where I stayed. (he stayed in his parents room). so, to continue where I left off yesterday... Paolo. Super nice guy, SUPER nice, and I actually like him a lot. BUT- staying at his house was rough. It was an oven. I didn't really get his logic on mosquito & heat fighting. There are shades (as pictured) that fit into the window frames. They go up, down, halfway, etc., or they can even be closed with perferations left open. Paolo likes them closed with half the vent holes exposed all of the time except in the hottest part of the day, then he opens them up wide. He also keeps every door in the house shut at all times, except the kitchen door. When he leaves or at night he shuts the blinds tight, blocking any transfer of air between in and out. Fine, close the damned shades when you leave, & lock the windows, I get it. However, it seems to me that at night they should be open, as in WIDE open- as should all the doors in the house to get a nice cross breeze. Then, in the day's high heat hours, close them to keep the sun out & maybe leave some top vents open to let the hot air escape. Am I crazy or is this rational? Really, please comment. Paolo insists that the mosquitos will get in (there are conventional screens on the windows) so the blinds must stay closed. I opened the one in my room & had no problems. none.
july 18/ from Firenze to Milano
- checked out of Hotel Il Granduca, took bus to train station, got bitched at by bus driver. Yes, I was standing at the front of the bus, I wouldn't fit into the bus any further with the mass of people. Yes, I validated my ticket & no, I was not blocking the doors; in fact, when I got yelled at was when I exited the bus to allow people on- didn't do that again & I also wasn't gunna wait another 20 minutes for the next friggin bus.
- checked bag at left luggage in Stazione Centrale di Santa Maria Novella & tried to decide what to do for the remaining 4 hours in town.
- went to english bookstore, bought horribly outdated book on Milan (2002)
- tried to go to Chisea Ognissanti (All Saints) Church near the train station. It was founded in 1256 by Umiliati, a Benedictine order from Lombardy which specialized in weaving woolen cloth. (Cloth production was reportedly once a key industry in Firenze) This church interested me because it has paintings by Botticelli & no line, unlike the Galleria degli Uffizi. Botticelli is also interred here & I get some wierd satisfaction standing above a person's grave, especially while admiring their handywork, and pondering what inspired them, how they lived, what things smelled like, etc. Well- no dice. Ognissanti had closed at 12pm & wouldn't re-open till 3:30. too late.
-what next? at this point I figured I had 3 hours till I needed to be back at the station & also figured that my trip to Florence would be all for naught if I didn't see Botticelli's Birth of Venus.
-walked to Uffizi, waited in line for 1hr, 53min & while in line my blackberry magically went ca-poot.
- finally in! I sprinted upsatirs to room 10-14 to see Botticelli's paintings. I had no idea that he worked in temepra, I just always figured it was oil. Anyway, it's a really pretty painting, it was worth the wait to satisfy my curiosity & to see more of his pieces. There were surprisingly few people in this room. The museum is a work of art in it's self & I enjoyed being there, imagining what it was like back in the day. I then headed to room 41 to see Rueben's works but it was closed. bummer. There was a huge line (inside the museum) to see Da Vinci's work. I credit him with genious but wonder: are people crowding in to see him because they love his work or because he's the only artist they know? There were so many great works completely ignored & I found myself wishing I could get lost there for a night.
-I raced back to the train station, grabbed my bag & waited, & waited for the train.
july 18/ Hello, Goodbye Milano!
-disembarked from train, wasted 30+ minutes on the horn with t-mobile again while simultaniously trying to call Paolo on the adjacent payphone with 2nd calling card & too much stuff on my back. guess I'm learning to multi-task.
-met Paolo at San Donato Station, headed WAY out of Milano to his house, BYE MILANO!, got first indication that something is amiss.
-met cat, (one of two) toured house except for parents room & mysterious bedroom that could not be used for some reason. If you've seen a Brooklyn-Italian apartment, you've seen this place only the floors are stone tile versus wood & the windows are bigger.
- cleaned up & headed out for dinner at a local restaurant. A "normal" restaurant called Villa Antigone. it was slamming busy, full of long tables of groups in size from 6 to twenty. apparently it's common to dine in such large parties- families are big & friends are many.
Paolo thought it was too hot for red wine, I concurred, and we moved on to food selection. My choice for 1st course: gniocchi in green pesto. love gniocchi. Paolo was of the opinion that it was too heavy & reccomended a pasta with clams in red sauce. I was game. We then ordered two different fish dishes which they were out of. Paolo, who would not drink red wine or eat gniocchi because of the heat suggests steak. ???? ok! steak it is, I had the Pink Panther, which is beef filet grilled to med-rare and smothered in a pink peppercorn cream sauce. He had plain filet, plain as could be.
conversation was fine, only a few awkward pauses, and I wasn't sure if I was just tired or if Paolo was a little bit of a contradiction. mercifully, dinner was over more quickly than I thought it would be & we went home.
**on a side note, the only hours long meal I have had was the one at the anglo place, Fish La Boiseonnerie, when we met up with Paul's friend, Bill, in Paris.**
- back at the ranch, I mean townhouse, Paolo set me up in his room & I crashed hard. till about 3am when the ceiling fan quit fanning and started making a horrible noise. It was soooo freaking hot & at that time I had no idea how to work the blinds- I was stuck, roasting in this fucking box till morning. 8:15 to be exact. Luckily, I had bought a hand fan in Madrid. I would fan myself till I was cooler, fall asleep, and wake up again mere minutes later. I drank over 1.5 liters of water that night and never had to use the bathroom. To see the bed I was sleeping in you would think that I urinated in it or dumped the water over my body but I didn't. It was all sweat. icko.
july 19, Robbiano/Milano day 1
So, I'm on vacation, it's 8:15am & there's a knock on my door. fine, I'm happy to know that Paolo is up and I can get the hell out of my cell. here I am in this house, it's 33c (91.4f) windows are open, blinds are closed, and the sun is getting higher. Paolo is walking around in his shorts (yes those shorts) and no shirt. NOT what I want to wake-up to, no offense. The table is set with biscuits, (cookies), and bread (mini cakes) and this wierd version of juice that europeans drink. it's cloudy & thick, almost like it's been boiled down to nothing & reconstituted. Paolo is thoughtful enough to make american style coffee & we sit, (him topless with red-haired breasts bobbing and floating aboating above the table), and plan the day. I notice some Texas memoribilia lurking around...
-shower #1.
- we head into Milan by taking the car closer to the city & taking a tram to the center. Accross from the tram stop is a salumeria (deli) that Paolo says is his favorite. I tell him that I would like to go there & get some meats to try. No answer. I say again: "maybe on the way home we can stop at YOUR favorite salumeria to gett some meats. I'd like to try some genuine Italian sausages." No answer. This is a pet-peeve of mine. I had a boyfriend once who would not acknowledge or respond to what I said if he didn't want to talk about it, or if it just wasn't important to him. It's invalidating & frustrating to be blatantly ignored like that. Not to mention manipulative & just plain rude. Of course, Paolo can't know how much this pisses me off, (although he should know how increadibly fucking discourteous it is), it's hot, I've gone a night with almost no sleep, endured a sugar laden breakfast with a topless man, and the sugar is wearing off. You can imagine that I am really about to pop. Only I can't- at 11am & temperatures up to about 36c with a whole day ahead, it seems like too much effort. I'm tired of traveling and tell myself the fan is a fluke, Paolo is not that weird, and Robbiano is not that far- I'm just being oversensitive.
- at the city centre we admire the Duomo inside & out. This Duomo is a bit more interesting than others Ive seen- it was begun in 1386 and wasn't finished until 5 centuries later. It has 3,500 statues ON it, and 52 interior pillars that correspond to the 52 weeks of the year. There is also a brass line in the floor that runs accross the width of the building, at the entrance. Carved marble tiles bearing the astrological signs dot the floor along the line- It's a sundial. The light comes through a stained glass pane marking noon & telling the current astrolgical sign. It may mark more but that's all the info I could get. There's a cool statue here too- it was made in 1562 by Marco d'Agrate, a follower of Leonardo, and depicts a life-size St. Bartholomew. Only he isn't just standing there being saintly, he looks old and naked at first, wearing a cloth wrap for modestly. You can't quite put your finger on what's odd & then suddenly it hits: he is naked! he is so naked that the cloth he is wrapped in is actually his skin! pretty fucking realistic & creepy & cool.
-next: Milan's living room, aka Galleria Vittorio Emanuelle II. This is a complex of 4 buildings (I think) that support a huge glass roof and connect the piazza del Duomo to the piazza della Scala. It creates a promenade kinda like the one in Vegas over Freemont Street but is way more elegant. duh. It was started in 1865 & completed by 1867. Just a few days before opening the galleria's architect, Giuseppe Mengoni, plunged to his death from the scaffolding around it. whoops!
- we walked past the Teatro La Scalla (1788), famous for opera, and a statue of great Italian thinkers/ scientists including Leonardo D . Cool.
- ready for a light lunch. we went to a chain restaurant called Luini's & had Panzerrotti, a dish they apparently made up or made famous, not sure which. I can tell you that McDonalds in Milan serves them- that's pretty huge junk food. Panzerotti is a small calzone filled with pizza sauce & toppings and made with sweeter dough- almost like a slice all rolled up. Instead of being baked it's fried- as in deep fried. very good but very heavy on such a hot day. Again, Paolo's food logic escapes me, this is not light to eat on a hot day of walking around...
(I would bring one back for you if I could Greg Wilson. Of course, I would be all a-twitter upon your very first bite seeing as it's fried but has no chicken or batter. Would Panzerotti live up to your gourmet expectations?)
- we walked to Castello Sforzesco. It's a big castle in downtown Milan that was begun in the 1360's & kept growing. It's changed hands a ton of times but essentially there was an uprising of some sort in the late 1440's & tons of damage to the castle resulted but by 1450 Francesco Sforza had completely repaired it. Francesco's son had Leonardo da Vinci & a couple other artists of note working in his court. The castle was captured by the French in 1499 & the castle began to deteriorate. It was almost completely demolished in the late 1800's but a guy came up with the idea to repair it & use it to display the cities art collections. lucky. repair was completed in 1904.
-next was an attempt to walk through Parco Sempione on the far side of the castle but the white clay paths were blinding with all the sun. I walked through some sprinklers to cool off then we roasted on a bench for a while so Paolo could cool off too. our foreheads hurt from squinting.
We walk back toward our train and the Duomo where I suggest and Paolo actually listens to my suggestion that we take the lift to the top. Must say, being on the too of Milan's Duomo is just about one of the coolest things Ulce experienced in Europe. The opportunity to look upon the city and from so high above and to also be so close to the intricate details of such a magnificent church was breathtaking. Paolo was fun too, took a lot of pictures, knew a lot about the building, and have me the space to dork out on what I was seeing.
- left Milano back to Paolo's parents house & shower #2. My suggestion that we stop at the salumeria accross from our tram goes ignored. ggggrrrrr.
- dinner, back into Milano. Paolo suggested a churrascaria (Brazilian meat house) but I was still stuck on this crazy idea of eating local food so we to a Sardinian restaurant called Il Veliero 23 which is really just the street and number of the esstablisshment. It was in a weird place & empty except for some guy with a woman he shouldn't be with, three older women dining together, and a couple in their mid-40's. strange. we had spagetti with clams, baby octopus, mussels, garlic, and tomatoes to start then we split Branzino with Arciofo (fish with artichokes) and a bottle of white frizzy wine. The food was good as was wine but I still felt like I was missing the whole Italian dining experience- despite multiple announcements ( we all know how insistant I can be) that I really wanted to do the whole hours & courses long dining thing. ie: before dinner drinks, antipasto, first & second courses, dessert, after dinner drinks, and coffee- to really experience the ritual of Italian eating. Not to be, every meal we had out seemed rushed.
**Paolo has red hair and pale skin. He gets treated a little bit like a tourist until he speaks & then people are shocked to find out he's local. Maybe that's PART of the reason we were shuffled in & out so quickly but at this point I suspect that he doessn't really like to eat, that it's just something he does because he has to do it. Every meal we ate revealed a new dislike or discomfort with food. Then there's that wierd thing where gniocci or red wine are too heavy but he will eat meat, even suggesting and all-you-can-eat type meat place?? He hates cheese and milk (local food is a lot of polenta & cheese) so no wonder he takess me to eat Sardinian when I ask for a regional meal. Frustrating really & I was never to have a proper Italian meal.**
- after dinner there were tranny hookers working next door to the restaurant. Paolo told me whores are a big problem in Milan, I wondered how often he uses them.
-we drove to the Navigli. this is a series of canals around Milano begun in 1177. They were used to import goods like salt & coal and to export iron, grain, and fabrics that were made in the city. The Navigli were also used for little stuff like bringing in marble to build the Duomo. Suppossedly, in the 15th century, Leonardo da Vinci was brought in to extend the network of canals within the city, don't know what the result of that was. Anyway, now there are 3 waterways (as far as I can tell) remaining and it's like Austin's 6th Street but lesser. Bar after bar line both sides of the waterway and tons of drunk people stumble around, throwing bottles into the water. I also saw pretty young girls in sexy dresses puking over the edge of the canal. Italians tend to be on the short side & I was a little concerened for one that her efforts to get her excess booze OVER the canal wall might land her IN the canal. The other had a boyfriend kind enough to hold her purse & hair during the process. not my scene.
- back to Paolo's Parent's place, my camera was full & Paolo was kind enough to hook up my camera & make a cd for me. shower #3, & bed in the roasting oven followed. We put a stand fan in the room and I slept a touch better but still wasn't at ease or ever able to fall into a deep sleep.
friday, july 20
- again the early knock on the door and too sweet breakfast with a shirtless Paolo. I'm exausted, a bit punchy from lack of sleep, and starting to feel trapped in this wierd place. I am grumpy but manage to keep it to myself as I'm excited to hear that Paolo thinks we should go to Como. This is a small town along a large lake (Lago di Como) that famous folks & Milanese use for vacationing.
-we pile into the car, again it's a sweltering day, and the A/C just seems to make a breeze, not really cool anything. Luckily, the temeperture drops as we get into the mountains & it's gorgeous. I'm still fussy and tired but at least feel like I can breath now.
- we walk around Como, I peep into a couple shops, we admire the Duomo from the outside, and then catch a people ferry upriver to a small town called Torno.
- Torno is even more gorgeous than Como. We walk pretty much the entire town in 30 minutes then find a spot with stairs into the water where we can chill for a bit. I have to pee so I tell Paolo to scram for a minute, wade down a stair or two, & hang my butt over the water to release. Ahhhh. It's piping hot & I decide that swimming is the thing to do. I jump in (briefly mind you) but Paolo will not even dip a finger or toe in. Maybe it's cause I peed, but I don't think so, I think he was afraid of the water. About 30 meters away is a floating platform, Paolo dares me to swim out to it but I'm picking up on this weird vibe he has about the water and can't do it. (ps, I'm a little bit of a chicken-shit) I've been swimming in lakes my whole life & can't understand my own fear. I ask Paolo if he thinks I can do it, he just shrugs and shakes his head side-to-side in earnest. I'm trying to use logic to surmount my irrational fear & ask: "there isn't any reason I can't, is there?" Paolo just shakes his head from side to side & won't look at me or the water. This is far freaking me out- if he would just say anything remotely positive, it would help. I'm re-calling the lore of my hometown and the rumors of people drowing in duckweed and becoming more and more sure that the moment I'm just out of reach from the shore some huge vindictive sea monster will pick me up in its giant mouth and toss me around like an orka taking out a baby seal. fuck it- I jump in and start out but can't do it. I come back & tread water near the stairs till I think I'm over my fear & attempt again- 3 times! I can't do it & a seagull is mocking me mercilessly the whole time. Jerk bird, jerk Paolo. obviously, it isn't either of their faults but hell, a little enthusiasm and bolstering would have been nice.
- we take funny pictures of me all mad at myself, have some shallow laughs, and wander to the cafe next to the ferry for lunch. at this point I am pretty teste and insistant on having an apperitif if not the full-meal-deal. Paolo insists that I will not like the drink I have ordered (Aperol Soda) despite the fact that I insist I have had one & like it. It comes out, I drink it & I fucking love the bitter sweetnesss of it. He's shocked.
It is at this point that I finally realize I am hanging out with a 33 year old man who has been raised in the boon-docks of Milanese civilization, still lives with his parents, accepts no responsibility for his tom-cats' (yes plural) smell or off-spring, disdains cheese & milk, and waxes poetic about a life-time career at DHL shipping- where he met his last love & made the "biggest mistake of my life" (head down)... "dating my assistant." need I say more???
-so anyway, I drink my drink, we eat a unmentionable lunch, and hop the ferry back to Como for some shoe shopping. Paolo will not come in the shoe stores despite my insistance that his bald spot is going from red to purple and the A/C is a good break. However, he finally relents, & comes to assist me in shopping. I find some shoes I like, he tells the woman that I wear a men's 10. I don't know much Italian but she looks at me blankly, pops him KINDA gently, & I crack up- I'm pretty sure she's scolding him for insisting my feet are so huge. They don't have my size so I turn green & buy the shoes I want for my friend Shana. (an 8)
- we go back to Robbiano, to Paolo's parent's place & after a day of freedom in Como I am really tripping to be back in this fucking sweatbox. I am in Europe for a month- this place is hell & I want the fuck out. NOW. I text Helen & Susan, inquiring about the politeness of an early departure & Helen texts back, reminding me that we have aa tour of the Loire Valley Sunday. I have two options to make the tour- a train at midnight or a train at 6:30 am the following morning. Fuck, I gotta go.
- I get online to book my trip but the trenitalia website is bogged & when I finally get through, all trains are sold out. At this point I don't care about the Loire Valley, I just fear getting stuck outside Milan. I tell Paolo that I need to do my laundry TONIGHT so it will be dry in the morning.
This is "wierd" according to Paolo. he tells me that my laundry won't dry & the mosquitoes will get me.I am, of course,baffled. I tell him that I don't intend to be rude but I would like to do my laundry and if he doesn't want me to it's fine but I must get to a train first thing in the morning. He finally sucks it up and leads me downstairs to another ENTIRE apartment beneath the one we've been in that is full of the stench of cat spray as well as lifetimes worth of unneeded treasure-aka: junk. We pass through this forgotten space, open many locks, go out the backdoor, through more locks and into a laundry room. I can't make heads or tales of the damned symbols on the washer and ask Paolo what the F??? And he drops the bomb that he doesn't know either, he's never done laundry!! Holy Mary, Mother of Jesus, who is this cat? I assure him I can batton down the hatches, send him packing,and fiddle with the damned machine to get laundry underway. When I alight to the noncatpee portion of his residence he promptly runs (literally) downstairs to ensure that I have bolted is in sufficiently. Too much. I had locked everything properly of course, and he came back sweating like a man with a monkey on his back.on and on this went, each time I checked my progress.
At this point my curiosity is piqued, patience worn, and my big brain is in wonderment. I ask him if he feels safe in his home. He gets a little wall eyed and I remind him that there is a baseball bat in his room. "Have you ever played baseball?" "No," he confesses, "no I do not play baseball and I do not feel safe in my home.". Not to be all ungrateful for cakes at breakfast, days taken off work,or lack of pity for having to date a ladder climbing assistant but I am like: AH-HAH! This is a guy who is 33,is coddled by his mother, hates milk, can't do laundry, and is afraid of his own shadow- almost as much as mosquitoes. I gotta go!
My laundry eventually finished and I hung it out to dry in the moon light. Paolo was sure it would get stolen, I was sure that it would have to be tossed after spending a night basking in air permeated by cat whiz. We were both wrong.
The next day I woke up to cakes and a still well endowed topless host. I took a deep breath and resigned myself to the possibility of another night in this strange lair. After breakfast I packed my things and Paolo graciously whisked me off to the Metro.
I got to the station by one, maybe earlier. There I learned a strike is underway and all trains running are at capacity.none the less, I am determined and wait in an hours long line to get the ticket to my escape. SUCCESS! Last ticket on the 23:35 train, sleeping car of 3 women is mine! Glory. I let Helen know I will miss the tour and revel in my newfound liberty.
It's now about 16:00. After taking a quick look in a guidebook I decide to head off to a store called Hi-Tech, a housewares hocker with a modern twist. I get on the metro, go one stop and decide to walk there, wandering through and enjoying Milano in my final hours there.
In my journey I come accross a pretty sculpture garden full of not so pretty bums, venture into a few designery type stores, and a trendy row of restaurants. Cool. When I finally find the store it is awesome, four floors of anything and everthing for the home and more. A little slice of pretty air-conditioned heaven in this hell of a town.
Paolo calls, wants to know did I get a ticket? I fill him in, we agree to meet for dinner at 19:00, and off I go to meet him at Milano Centrale.
At one point during our ventures I had mentioned sushi which apparently intrigued Paolo. Upon meeting he rang his younger cousin who advised we dine at a nearby place called nu-cube, a hip Asian place. We go there but it doesn't open for another 10 minutes so I suggest we go into the grocery accross the street so I can load up on some Italian goodies for my train ride. I hit the sweets with Paolo in tow. Low & behold, he lights up like a Christmas tree freshly flocked in red when we hit the cakes & cookies aisle. What a strange one! I am delighted to find that the Japanese package Pocky in Italian and pick up a pack for my Bro along with rum soaked orange cakes, and chocolate for myself.
Next is on to nu-vine... It's great- great design, great music, great bathrooms with those electricly charged glass doors that are clear then fog up, everything- and it's all in Italian. I don't know if any of you have struggled through a foreign language menu in yet a more foreign language but I am here to tell you that it's challenging at the very least. And satisfying when it turns out well. The food is some of the best I've had in Europe & Paolo even seems to like it too. He is shocked by how flavorful raw fish is, I am even more shocked that he would try it. Nice last meal in Italy.
After dinner Paolo deposited me at Milano Centrale and I waited and waited and waited and met Alice. Alice of New Zealand who works as a nanny in Turino and reads Harry Potter and dreams of life in NYC where she hopes to one day work in the glamorous field of graphic design. Sweet kid, scared to be on the platform alone at night and my little buddy waiting for the big train to big Paris. Our train finally arrived around 00:45 and we parted ways, off on the same vehicle to our very own adventures.
Frog Legs for Lunch 
