Finding my way

Once again security at Malpense airport was surprisingly transparent. A quick passport check and that was it, perhaps my European Union passport made it easy After retreiving my bag and heading for the freedom of Northern Italy via the exit that everyone else was using, who was I to try a different approach, my reasonably freshly shaven head and 36 hour growth clearly made me look like a football hooligan and I was promptly stopped as I made my final lunge for freedom by a rather large Polizia wearing a very impressive military like grey uniform.

"Passport"
"Si"
"Where are you going now"
"Milan"
"Are you staying long"
"Only 2 days then off to Marsaille"
"Okay, thankyou"

That was the interrogation I was expecting at Melbourne before leaving so in way it did fill a hole that was missing from the pre-flight security despite missing many of the elements of my original expectation, for my faith to be restored I still required the the strip and body cavity check and a bit of torture. It did dawn on me later that being Milan on the weekend there was probably a football match on at the San Siro, so my resemblance to a football hooligan theory was probably correct.

The bus ride to Milan from the airport whilst uneventful, did alert me to one thing, be very careful on the roads in Milan, the drivers have a sole purpose in their mind to get from A to B and steering around obstacles in their path is optional. As I was to discover later the footpaths are also public car parks and shortcuts for motorcycles. It is refreshing to know that it is not just Australia where the traffic laws are optional.

So Here I was at Stazione Centrale In Milan and no idea were to go next. My print out of the Hostel booking gave the address as Via Salmoiraghi, Milan, 20148. Hungry and in desperate need of a coffee hit converged on kiosk near the bus stop.

"Un cafe machiato e un foccacia di quesso, pomodoro e olivia por favor"
The mix of Italian and spanish along with the stupid accent gave the lovely lady behind the counter sufficient clues to know that this conversation needed to be in english. Her english wasn't that great mind you but it was a damn site better than my Itanish (used interchangeably with Spanalian). I did have to stop myself from talking as if I was talking to a child after a couple of words, I'm not sure why I started, perhaps it was the Faulty Towers effect. Eventually I learned that she had no idea where I needed to go and nor did the other customer standing next to me who very kindly offered me his help. Clearly I needed a map and some self sufficiency, no language barriers in that. The kiosk next door sold newspapers so that seemed like the logical place to start.

"Compro un mapa per favor"

I was proud of that statement even though I didn't know if it was gramatically correct (I still don't and I suspect that providing the word "mapa was correct" that I said "I buy a map please" how dumb was that). I did rehearse it thoroughly in my head prior to asking which did sound a bit Monty Pythonish as I told my self to conjugate the verb comprare; In Spanish mapa is correct so in Italian it was likely to be similar, and I even corrected my pronouncination of please. After 2 minutes of rehearsal in my head and out loud, briefly looking around to see if anyone was within hearing, I proudly asked for a map, it was very dissapointing when I got a strange look followed by a finger pointing down to the shelf directly in front of me which was full of maps of Milan.

Armed with my map, carrying 16 kilograms of backpack I set off in search of the elusive backpackers hostel. I was determined to walk, despite the map displaying the metro system and the hostel booking print out explaining how to get there. About 45 minutes later I decided that the extremely small print on the map and the fact that I did not have a clue where I was meant that I should get my glasses out and actually read it properly, I am always reluctant to use my glasses because the is a slight admission of getting old associated with it. Orientating the map to north, using the theory that the sun set in the west in the northern hemisphere also, and actually being able to read the print, I had regathered myself and started heading in the right direction. Unfortunalely I was so far north of where I was supposed to be (providing I was holding the map the correct way), being rescued by the metro system was now not really an option and I was skirting around the outskirts of town rather than heading through, as I was later to discover, the absolute magnificence that is the city of Milan.

The amount of civil works going on in Milan meant that the map was not exactly accurate, in fact at times it was quite difficult to sort out exaclty what was going on. I was comforted by the fact that a local who attempted to assist me also had difficulty reading the map but eventually she did sort me out and I was indeed doing okay, she was walking with her young daughter to her local school fete. I awarded her the Royal Order of the Koala by giving her one of those little clip on koalas that come in packs of 20 at cheap Melbourne souvenir shops and are made in China. I did check before I left (a number of times) and the only "Made in China" labels were on the wrapper, so while it could be assumed, it would be difficult for them to prove that they were cheap imitations. As it turned out I was only about 1 kilometre from my destination. With little more ado I arrived at the Hostel and was finally able to rid myself of the my luggage, now I know how people who have a monkey on their back feel.

Armed with 2 sheets and a pillow case I found my room, it was quite a horrible feeling when I saw I had a top bunk in a room with 3 double bunk beds. I tried to ascend the ladder but found the entire structure start to topple in my direction. Only a quick abandonment of my attempt to scale the dizzy 2 metre height that was Mt Bunk Bed stopped me from falling backwards in a screaming heap followed very shortly thereafter by a weak structure of hollow steel, timber, mattresses and pillows. On the second attempt I kept myself close to the ladder, succesfully scaled mount bunk bed and planted the Aussie flag. There was plenty of lateral movement in the bed without much prompting and it made the most horrible creaking noises as it swayed from side to side. If anyone wants to know how "rock-a-bye baby" felt as he/she was being rocked from side to side whilst being suspended high in a tree, just go to that hostel and insist on a top bunk. Incidentally I hope child welfare caught up with those parents, putting your child up in a tree in a rickety cane basket and watching it sway in the wind is a certain recipe for disaster. Moses was put in a basket and pushed down the river by his parents and that is one of the great stories from the Bible, so there is some biblical support for child abuse. But this was this was a budget hostel for a reason. Before long my bed was made and I was ready to have my first shower in 48 hours. Another reason the hostel was cheap was becasue they had small storage hot water systems. The last time I had a cold shower was when Melbourne's gas supply was disrupted by a tragic explosion at the gas plant. But the invigorating cold water along with a fresh set of clothes it made me feel a lot better.

The lounge area in the hostel was a very morbid place with people sticking with their travel comnpanions and everyone keeping the volume of their conversations very low or engrossed in whatever music was being played on their MP3 player. I had a thought that it would be a very social place but it was more like a wake (and not an Irish one). Being extremely hungry braving the streets in search of the great Italian pizza was next on the agenda. Withing the vicinity of the Hostel I found a supermarket and a number of bars with a large letter "T" on their sign, the word "bar" and curiously "Tavola Fredda" I knew tavola meant table but fredda escaped me, my first thought was that it was the name of the premises, "Fred's table" but of course that would be "la tavola di Fredda" I thought but I would not be surprised now if some native Italian speakers think that I am a dickhead. After seing more with the same name I concluded that it meant table service, I later found this was incorrect but it did the job of satisfying my curiosity at the time.  Now I know though that it means a cold buffet, that is providing google is correct, and who am I to say google is wrong. 

I found a nice pizzeria with a wood fired oven and a very extensive menu, there were some very poor looking ones in the area also so this one stood out. An empty restaurant is normally a bad sign to me, if they were any good they would be busy, but there were three delivery bikes leaving with a load each so the food was therefore in demand, just not being eaten on the premises. Being a slightly hypocritical vegetarian, I eat shell fish, I order the one with cheese, tomato, mushrtooms and shelfish. As is the case with good pizzas it arrived in 5 minutes with magnificent blistering on the thin crisp crust, the mozeralla was the real thing, not that plastic they put on in Australia, but to my horror we clearly have a different interpretation of the word shellfish; baby octopus, squid, prawns? I'm am not a marine biologist but I think that it is reasonable to assume that octopi and squid (being the plural of squid) do not live in shells. I say that without total certainty because there maybe a yet to be discovered hermit octopus that lives in discarded shells, and perhaps squid discard their shells on being caught, burt I doubt it. With prawns he has a case to argue but I would still argue vigorously against it. Apart from my obvious objection to the meat there was also the slight issue of a prawn allergy that would give me violent stomach cramps for about 2-3 hours and render the cublicle I was using for that duration useless until a thorough cleaning. Such was my determination not to offend I proceeded to pick of the offending items and put them to one side, normally I would not eat anything that has touched a prawn for fear of cross contamination but again the risk of offending was greater than the risk of a near death experience. Carefully picking off the surrounding cheese, tomato and base to a depth of 1 mm and circumference of of double the size of the offending shrimp, I was satisfied that I had done enough to avoid any issues, and I was luckily correct.

The store owner was a very dominating person who took great delight in controlling everything. His female colleague, whom I assumed was his wife was subjected to a number of vigorous dressings down I think I got the plural right, like attorneys general, it sounds stupid but gramatically it is correct. I concluded that a teenage girl who came in was his daughter as she was subjected to an immediate tirade on arrival; whilst my Italian is obviously very poor at best, the words"che," "ora," "questo" and "casa" made me think that he was saying "what time do you call this, you may as well have stayed home." She just put her hand against his cheek and went to a table and started doing her homework. She took the time every now and again to get items from the back at the request (demand) of the owner and filled my glass with a lovely vino rosso but generally she had her head buried in a book oblivious to the rantings of the owner. It didn't exactly seem like a busy chef's kitchen with lots of staff and demanding head chef serving a busy restaurant but it was certainly being run that way. With the offending items removed the pizza was magnificent, just what I expected and I wandered back to the hostel for a bad nights sleep on an unstable, hard and creaky platform that passed for a bed.

The nature of shared accomodation does not lend itself to sleeping well, expecially when there are sufficinet numbers of inconsiderate people who talk in normal voices and wander in and out of the room without the slightest thought for others who are wanting to sleep. A young man on the lower level of mount bunk on the opposite side of the room woke me, and I assume everyone else in the room, by continually and violently sniffing about 4-5 times then gulping down his bounty, he stopped after about 3 cycles of this, then went back to sleep as if it was normal behaviour. His circular breathing skills were quite magnificent and I'm sure he could have played a didgeree doo with no difficulty whatsoever. I would have thought that a tissue and a good blow would have been a far better and more efficient method, apart from the inconsideratness of doing that in a shared dorm with 5 other strangers. Another chap had his alarm set for 5 and used the snooze button 3 times. I'm not sure why these people consider this acceptable behaviour in a shared environment but I will not doubt find out over the coming weeks if this is normal or not.