STILL stuck in Milano

Now with Alice. So, a few of you may know... From Firenze I journeyed to Milano, or so I thought I was, to see the city and bunk with Paolo, a friend of a friend.

My train out of Firenze was late & my blackberry was on the Fritz which meant my host was waiting to pick me up at a metro stop with no idea what the hell was going on. While I was in Verona, Paolo had happened to be in town one evening for business. He, Susan, & I had dinner & made a plan of action for our meeting in Milano. He was suppossed to emailed me an address & detailed directions later. No address came but directions did, as follows: yellow train to San Donato, go left to stairs, see the paperstand on right, forward to the exit, go up right to the turn around & he would be outside the place that rents bikes with his car. Sounds simple enough- until you get to the metro station and the lines have no colors or maps posted- just numbers and separate entrances for each train. Add a 17.5 kilo backpack, loads of stairs, no phone, & some guy waiting. Travel is really tough at that moment. All I wanted to do was lock my bag in left luggage and wander to the nearest cafe to eat, drink, and people watch.

I didn't. I got on the horn to the phone company, (5€), squaked about the problem again and finally got it fixed. Mind you, this was the second time I did this that day- I spent plenty of time and euro to yet to mend the problem prior to leaving Firenze and was promised it would be remedied by the time I departed the train 4 hours later.

** I don't mean this to be a bitch blog by any means; this is my personal journal and every sore and possibly every happy moment will be recorded here for my memory and reference later- you know, to remind me of things I've been through and keep perspective sorta thing.**

So anyway, finally get the phone working, text Paolo, request his address, get the train number, and head underground. Well, I still have to buy a ticket and it's pay by zone. I'm trying to make out this checkered mustard mess of a city diagram to figure out how much to pay as junkies and panhandlers buzz about me like green flies on you know what. then it dawns on me:Julia, you live in NYC, you navigate the most BS any city can muster up on a daily basis. Pay the fucking minimum, get on the train, and if you get caught stick out your boobs and be a dumb tourist! If you get caught and have to pay the fine- fine, just get somewhere with an AC, shower, and refreshing beverage already! Off I go...

Maybe it's a language barrier, mental capacity, or just poor sense of direction but getting out of the metro was just as mixed up as getting on. Then finally, Paolo and I make contact!

My first inquiry is: "what's the best way to get around the city? Should I rent one of these bikes?"
He is baffled by the question so I repeat. He's still baffled. I chalk it up to language barrier, leaving it for later- all I want right now is a shower. We pile into his car and head off to... The fucking middle of absolute nowhere.

Enroute to the house I'm looking for positives- I avoid thinking too much about the corn fields flooded with tepid water all around us, note that we haven't been driving too long, and admire the ruins of old farms. At first I'm not too alarmed, but as we near his house, Paolo informs me that he lives with his parents. "uuuuhhh- WHAT?" I swallow, sneak a look at him as nonchalantly as possible, and take a deep breath. Nightmare visions of screeching Brooklyn-Italian mothers and sparkly floating rosaries start dancing through my head. I am really unsure about this. I am not ready to meet anyone's parents, much less in another language, and I do not want a full weekend of tippie-toeing around somebodies fucking house. I just want to chill!!! Just as my first panick attack EVER is about to ensue, Paolo mercifully informs me that his parents are on holiday in Sardinia. WHEW!

Finally, we arrive &, of course, I have to take stock of my new surroundings:

"oh, you have a bar across the street." = PLUS.
then I'm told it's a drug bar and I should not go there.
"OK."

I open a window & there's a balcony= PLUS.
"No",he says, "we can't open windows or shades because of mosquitos and it's not safe. The balcony, someone could get in."
"OK."

"how bout an air conditioner?" I inquire.
"No, It is never very hot in Milano."

So, the question begs: "am I even in Milano?"
(a little pissed now that I never got an address)
his reply? "yes, well, sort of. This is like: outside Milano."
me: No Kidding!

Well, my train has finally arrived, 40 minutes late & I'm tired. Will be in Paris in the AM where I will have computer access and swear to post a few choice pics and catch up.I was hoping to catch Helen and join her on a tour of the Loire Valley but I don't think it's meant to be. All I am going to do tomorrow is get produce, wine, and cheese sans worms, post, relax, and finally- rest.