I'm writing again!
It seems I've taken to this whole blogging thing surprisingly well... go figure.
First of all I'd like to say THANKS to all the people who commented or let me know that they read my first blog and want me to continue writing. I felt connected with everyone, like I could really share what I am going through. No wonder Simon keeps bugging me to comment on his blogs... [yes, Sim: they are excellent and worthy of a comment in every possible way.]
I went to Milan on Saturday!! That's the main topic of this blog in fact.
I have reached a conclusion: Milan is only fun if you can afford to shop there (highly unlikely in my case), OR if you're interested in seeing a lot of art. And when I say a lot, I mean A LOT.
Sorry about that, but you know me... ART...(angel choirs singing) ... Good times. And totally random! It just goes to show that Erasmus Nights at pubs were created for a reason... but I'm getting ahead of myself, so I'll start from the beginning.
Now I really reaallly didn't feel like going to the pub that night. Most of you have witnessed my hermit-like tendencies in some shape or form, and so you know that no matter where I am, no matter how many times people try to assure me that the party/film/gathering is going to be "off the heezy", if I don't wanna go, I'm not gonna go. I'm boring. I have embraced it and moved on.
So when Thursday rolled around and I was feeling tired and lazy, the thought of a pub stuffed beyond comprehension with other aliens didn't really excite me. At all. AND I was pretty certain that my room mates hated me. See, they're older and they work, so they have to wake up early. And I kept coming in late. I could have sworn that one of them was coughing at me when I walked in at 12.30am the night before. You know. Coughing. Cough go to sleep cough now cough or else...
Yeah. Partying wasn't really high up on my to-do list. So I walked home and chit-chatted with my roomies, or co-inquiline as they are known here (my vocab is slloooowly expanding). Turns out, they can't hear a thing when they close their door! And one of them, Patrizia, had done an Erasmus exchange and she was all like go out, have fun, take the plunge, you're only here once carpe diem and all that. So I went.
I ended up meeting these two really sweet girls, Anya and Catherine. Random fact: Anya's dad is Maltese. I know, right? What are the odds... Anyway, we were talking about how none of us had plans for the weekend and then *poof*, suddenly we had promised each other that we would go on a day trip to Milan! And just like that I woke up super early, caught the train and less than two hours later I was in Milan. Simple pimple.
Ah Milan... I feel like I should take a drag from a cigarette, or throw a scarf around my shoulders or something when I say that. It really is quite posh. We stopped in front of La Scala for a quick photo and walked through the very beautiful and oh-so-expensive Galleria Vittorio Emmanuele. The only things we could afford were a coffee and muffin from the McCafe. Yes, shock horror, I was in Milan and went to McDonalds. I. Moi. Me. And it felt good. How shameful.
Anyway, so we walked through the arch and stopped dead in our tracks. For right in front of us was one of the most impressive buildings that I have ever seen in my life: the Milan Duomo. Honestly, I nearly cried. Words cannot describe how amazingly impressively, exquisitely...yeah, you see? I got nothing.
At this point the many toddlers wandering around dressed up as lions and princesses and power rangers hadn't caught my eye. I mean, I was too busy gawking. But when silly string shot across my boots that got my attention. I looked around. As far as the eye could see [i.e. up to the giant Zara...that place is everywhere...] there were children. Hundreds of children dressed up in costumes. Throwing confetti. Spraying silly string. Doing other children-type things.
Please note the confetti.
I still don't get it. I mean Ash Wednesday had passed and everything. We were officially in Lent and I'm being totally serious when I say that Milan was overrun with beings under two feet in height. Odd. 'Twas cute though. Right up to the point when I got sprayed with silly string. Yeah. Not so cute then.
After eating the crappiest meal in the history of tourist trap meals, I escaped to the Pinacoteca Brera by myself. I didn't really blame the others for not coming; by that point I had already dragged them to a Futurist exhibition. To be very honest I was ready to explore by myself...I hate to feel rushed because I'm worrying that someone else isn't enjoying themselves. So I found the museum, took a deep breath and walked in. An hour and a half later I stumbled out, red-faced, glassy-eyed and totally satisfied. I had lucked out. It was the 200-year anniversary of the opening of the museum. Can anybody say "Caravaggio Exhibition"? I walked into the screened off area, clutching my time-slot paper like it was the ticket to heaven. This time I really did cry. And more than once too. I was like a loon. A lonely loon on loon tablets. Wandering around the paintings, reaching out to them whilst muttering under my breath and 'shedding a tear', as my mum would say. I had reached new heights of geekdom. And I enjoyed every minute of it.
I made up for the crappy lunch later. The Calzonpizza is a wonderful thing. I don't care what my godfather says. God bless the Italians.
And that was Milan!
I'm going to have to go again though... I mean, I didn't even see Da Vinci's "Last Supper"! Apparently you have to book 60 days in advance...stupid Da Vinci Code.
Good night and God bless you.
Oh, and you'll hear from me reaaaaally soon this time. I have lots more to say and you're a very good listener...
Miss you, as always,
P.S. More photos to come. I got bored waiting for them to upload.