Milano in January is quite cold, although when you have been on a plane or in a hotel with controlled air, the fresh, cold air feels good. The people in Milano, with their unique fashion statements, are more glamorous than the architecture of the city. Pointy boots, fuzzy scarfs, funky glasses, big jewelry, and the list goes on. In comparison, most of the buildings are grey or yellow, with marble coverings on the bottom half, and understated balconies. It’s not like Barcelona, where the balcony is in itself almost a statement of its owner. Here, the balconies are pretty and simple. It’s unfortunate that buildings in many neighborhoods have been vandalized.
The worst piece about traveling for work is insomnia. In my case, I checked in to my hotel around 11pm, and proceeded to get ready for bed. I noticed right away that there was no alarm clock in the room, hence no visible clock. As my cell phone was about to die, I couldn’t rely on that as a clock, and of course I had forgotten to pack my watch. I couldn’t figure out how to turn on the 16” TV for some background noise, and to figure out the time, and so decided to read my book until I pass out. At 3.30 am, I wake up. Now of course, I had no idea that it was so early, until I had called the receptionist to ask for the time. After 10 minutes of playing with the remote control and the tv, I have mastered how to turn this monster screen on. I find odd tv shows in Italian, Italian MTV, 4 stations in French and German, 3 of porn, and 3 of news in English. My luck was great – it was George Bush’s inauguration. I got to watch 3 hours of the same news over and over again. Like I care how he waves at the crowd, or what his wife is wearing, or the fact that he doesn’t twirl his wife while dancing.
At 5pm I decide to check out if the restaurant is open. Of course not. I find Pringles in the mini bar, and start watching this interview in German that was more interesting than CNN news…even with the little German I could understand! In any case, you can see that I basically operated like this until leaving for the airport at 6am.
The taxi drivers in Italy are the best because they always are willing to talk to you as if you are completely fluent in Italian, where in reality you understand every third word they say. Fortunately speaking Spanish with a few Italian words here and there helps me, but I still can’t talk about politics with the guy, which seems to be the subject du jour. Must be disappointing in his line of work. At the airport I succumb to the need of caffeine and real food, and thank God that I’m in Italy and not in some country where coffee is bad.
On the plane, I’m sitting next to this guy who looks like Guy Pearson, although he’s Italian and probably younger. I’m guessing he doesn’t go on airplanes very often, as he was so interested in staring out the window, and taking out his camera to film the landing and take pictures of the outside view. It was nice to see that, as I’ve been traveling so much for work, that I’ve forgotten what that excitement is like. I know when I travel for vacation that it is exciting, but not in that virgin traveler sort of way. It makes you appreciate how awesome it is that we can go in planes and arrive in a completely different landscape with different people, fashion and culture.
No comments:
Post a Comment