Last night I “attempt” to shower. Now I put attempt in quotations because the shower is so small that when I close the doors I can only stand completely upright. There isn’t even room to lift my legs to wash my feet. And when I try to wash my hair my elbows keep hitting the walls and knobs shutting off the water. I’m a fairly small person but this shower is for a child. How the hell does a normal sized person shower in here?! I end up rinsing my hair and washing my feet in the sink. Am I being unreasonable when I require a shower I can move in?
This morning I go back to Ponte di Castelvecchio for some photos and then take a wander in the quiet streets. When I get to the Arco dei Gavi there are two teenage girls standing in my photo line of sight. They see me standing there with my camera but I guess out of principle, refuse to budge. I give them my best stink eye and they finally move on. Bloody teenagers are the same wherever you go.
I arrive at the train station in plenty of time and despite the warnings of a strike it seems business as usual. Vittorio didn’t let me down! Not sure what services are actually being affected but it doesn’t seem to be an all encompassing walk out. Which is a relief as now I can get to Milan with no issues.
Due to the strike I was told the metro wouldn’t be running but I double-check as I’d like to save myself a 30 minute walk with my packs. Luck is with me and it arrives just as I walk up. My apartment is in the fashion district. I feel just slightly out of place with my backpacks as I pass Gucci, Fendi, Prada and Rolex stores. I do not belong here. I wish I did. I love fashion but I couldn’t even afford a sock from one of these places.
My apartment is small but has everything I need. I figure I should at least make the effort to look acceptable in the fashion capital of the world and I iron my clothes. Normally this would be a simple process but the iron is Hobbit size and the ironing board is about the size of my forearm (I’m not even exaggerating). Quote from my mom,
You’re in the fashion capital and you’re only able to iron doll clothes!
It’s over thirty degrees today and I can’t stop sweating. How do these Italian women look like they’re walking in continuous air conditioning and I look like a sweaty mess? I decide to go to the cemetery since I may melt to death anyway. Families have hired famous sculptures to create mausoleums that are ornate mini churches. They even rest in peace in style! I meet young guy who’s come to Milan to study fashion design but he’s more interested in fashion photography and he asks me about my camera. We chat for a bit about photography and then say our goodbyes.
I find a modern skyscraper in the middle of a piazza that towers over the city. This area has modern architecture that abuts old Milan. It’s an interesting dichotomy. The famous condo towers, Bosco Verticale, have plants draping themselves over the facade that make it look like the buildings are living, breathing things.
In search of some shade I find a massive city park. The locals are picnicking, playing football, cycling, playing music and lazing in the shade. I pass a mother and little boy. She gives him a push on his bike and he wobbles away as she tries to run beside him. He’s doing fine until he looks back at her and then crashes. He doesn’t seem hurt until he realizes his ankle has somehow become stuck between his pedal and the gears. I stop to help and we manage to extricate his foot after removing his shoe and moving his leg in a different position. The grateful mother says that’s it for cycling today and they head home after giving me pat on the shoulder in thanks.
Walking back to the apartment through the Brera District, I notice how everyone is so well dressed. No one is wearing Lululemon gym wear. They’re wearing stylish outfits that clearly took some time to put together. They care how they look. The women pick their way across cobblestone streets in heels (that must take some practice) and the men in they’re VERY fitted outfits strut with confidence down the sidewalk.
Men in three piece suits and women in dresses zip past me on their Vespas. There’s a Rolls Royce parked in front of the Gucci store that has a black velvet fabric paint job. Are you kidding me? There are chauffeured high-end cars with blacked out rear windows parked all along my street. I’m assuming the rich and famous are shopping after hours. The Rolex store has its own armed guard and there’s numerous security vehicles and persons all through the block. Did I mention that I saw the actress from Stranger Things walking down the block with her shopping bags? Surreal.
