Milan Part 2

“The wheels on the Bus go round and round, round and round, round and round…The wheels on the Bus go round and round all through the town.”
This is such a passively, pastoral song. It almost sounds relaxing, like being out to see on a huge yacht or in a dinghy on the glassy waters of a lake. Well, that was not our experience.
As we wound away from the airport we started coming to another curious problem, which stop was ours. I would later find out I was under the misconception that this was a bus which made regular stops like most busses do. So while everyone “In the know” was gleefully ignoring the stops along the highway I was making a mad search through our maps to figure out where in the hell I was trying to go. I asked the bus driver. He spoke no English and only assured me that he was in fact driving the bus, a fact that must have escaped me in his estimation. With that, I took my seat and hoped for the best.
All around the town we drove, we pulled off the local highway onto the autostrada… the freeway… we drove the autostrada until we found our exit which happened to be a series of very sharp, hairpin turns which were very clearly not made for busses our size. For that matter I’m not sure they were made for many cars in manufacture today. Amazingly enough our driver managed to steer us clear of any danger; inches separated us from the unforgiving concrete (the only thing between us and a 30 foot fall) to the right and oncoming traffic to the left, which seemed unconcerned of the decreased space for driving.
With an awe inspiring bit of driving behind us, I tried to relax at least a little knowing that at this point if we didn’t know where we were going we were never going to know and eventually end up wherever this Bus turned around. Never in my life have I seen such a beautiful metropolis disgraced by such ignominious graffiti. When I say it was everywhere, I am not in any way exaggerating. It was on every single first floor wall within sight. Some walls had it worse than others, but all the walls were tagged -- silver, red, blue, yellow, green, black, gray… they were covered in color un-native to its original architecture. Italian vulgarities, signs, fascist propaganda, gang tags, and any number of designs that looked like they were the crayon drawings of a three year old on a wall covered the walls block by block by block.
As we approached what appeared to be the Train Station, I was confronted with an entirely new problem… large groups of people who looked to be vagrants, thieves, robbers, and any other frightening apparitions I could think of at the time. There were trash can fires and gobs of trash and empty bottles littering the cobblestone sidewalks. The whole city looked like it was straight out of “Escape from LA” I was just waiting for Kurt Russel to walk out with his eye patch and long pony tail.
We stepped off the bus into the scene and I held onto Misti’s hand tightly, wanting to keep her close just in case someone tried something.
As quickly as we could, we walked into the station and to our dismay saw no trains leaving for Venice. Had we managed to catch the first bus (the one I thought was a tourist bus) we would have caught the last train across the country to Venice with no time to spare.
“Now what… now what do you do Shea… think. Think. Think… Do you sleep in the train station? How will that work? Are you going to let Mist sleep while you keep guard? Do you find a hotel? What are you going to do… It’s time to make a decision.”
At that moment, I remembered the sign above the hotel just across the street – The Star Hotel. Mist and I discerned that we had two options… wait for the first train @ 6am in the station, or check into a hotel and get some sleep. After nearly 48 hours of not sleeping I was not in any condition to stay awake to make sure no lunatics got the jump on us, and I wasn’t about to make misti our watchdog. So without any further adieu we decided to check into a hotel for the night and treat ourselves to a nice shower and bed.
The increasingly frightening scene outside made me surer of my decision. Even as we walked up to the automatic sliding glass doors that entered into the swanky lobby covered in cherry paneling and wainscoting, my normal reaction would have been one of, “out of our price range my dear (which it was)… and let’s keep on looking.” But considering the hour, the ratty walls of this city of graffiti, and what seemed like gobs and gobs of degenerate marauders waiting to do us in. I chose to override my normal cheapness in lieu of safety.
The star hotel was an amazing place that I would recommend to any tourist unfortunate enough to get stuck in Milan. Close to the station, but a world all its own. The star hotel was an Italian 4 star hotel and worth every star. We would find out as we walked into the hotel that mass hysteria and “marauders” filling the streets was due to the fact that AC Milan was at that very moment playing (and winning) a match against Liverpool in the European Cup.
I don’t know if it was exhaustion from the journey or elation at finding an oasis in the middle of such slop but whatever it was it was welcomed and necessary. Our very modern and swanky room was amazing, and as we lay down on our Tempurpedic bed and covered ourselves in the luxurious sheets. Misti rest her head on my chest and her hair fell on my skin. I watched her doze off within minutes and found myself falling, blissfully into a faraway sleep, void of the world outside our hotel door. Tomorrow would hold its own worries and troubles that was for sure, but as for tonight my only concern was sleep… at least until the alarm goes off.

Milan Part 1

Milan Part I
I should have known we were in for trouble when no one at the airport spoke English or looked as though they particularly cared to help us in any way shape or form. The time was 11:00pm (Milan) the last train to Venice (where our hotel was) left at 11:55p. Now you might be saying to yourself, that’s cutting it awful close isn’t it Shea?” To which I say, “hogwash!” You see, misti and I did such a good job planning this trip out we were going to be there in Venice by 3pm and have a wonderful relaxing dinner by the Grand canal. Instead, thanks to a major delay by Virgin airlines, we were forced to stay in England all day long. That wouldn’t have been all that terrible had AlItalia not decided to have a pilot’s strike in 4 of its major cities forcing us to fly into Milan @ 11pm and thereby screw everything up!
But we finally arrived. Despite all the crap that it took to get here and despite how frightening the whole scene at Malpensa was we could say that we had arrived at our temporary destination. That would be one of the very few bright spots of the night.
Our backpacks arrived at baggage claim, without being absolutely destroyed by the airline workers not on strike. After picking them up off the conveyer we started to the doors. It was at that moment that we came upon one of our first planning oversights – “Where on earth is the Train station to Venice?” Unlike most of the cities, Milan’s Malpensa airport does not have a direct system of transit going from one place to the next. So, if you need to get from the airport to the train station at 11pm… good luck!
And there we stood, two touristas overwhelmed and somewhat baffled as to what to do. Fright didn’t set in for a good 10 minutes.
5 minutes later…
Misti and I start to make our way to the exit of the airport looking for someone who might just speak English. That is a more difficult prospect than you might think. I finally saw a security officer (carabinieri) and made a bee line to ask him where to go. In Italian he said… well I don’t actually know what he said since it was in Italian, but I did understand the gestures he was making. Feeling very glad to be with my wife, Mist and I briskly walked toward the door, and the awaiting gauntlet of cabbies ready to pounce on the unsuspecting individuals walking off the plane.
5 minutes later…
Walking out of the air conditioned airport Misti and I were enveloped by the thick, humid air outside. It was welcome to be out of a climate controlled environment after having been stranded in one for the better part of a day and a half. The parking lot was brightly lit and bustling even at this late hour and at that moment the weight of not knowing how to get to the train station or for that matter where it even was were really beginning to hit me. Though Misti never said it, I knew she was hoping that I knew what was going on… I couldn’t even begin to fake it like I knew.
We saw a bus and a huge line of people waiting for it and thought immediately that that must be our bus, but was quick to repress my assumptions seeing that the bus in question was no less than a charter bus and for all I knew these white hairs were all a part of some tourist group going to their hotel. I didn’t know what to do and asking seemed an adventure in pointlessness. We crossed the 4 lanes of pick-up traffic trying not to get run over straight off the plane. As we crossed I saw a huge commotion from another smaller (more city-run) bus stop, with my curiosity piqued I paused at the median to see if I could make out what was going on in the crowd across the next 3 lanes of traffic. Soon I realized there was a man wailing as if his dog was shot and police circling a spot 5 feet away from him. I started to understand what he was saying and quickly realized that someone just shot his friend (girlfriend I think). I am not kidding about this. Being a little freaked out, I was not made to feel any better when I realized that it was the police that did the shooting! At that point, I was no longer overwhelmed or freaked out, I was overwhelmed, freaked out and really afraid!
Here we are, in a city we don’t know anything about, with pretty much everything we need for the next 3 weeks on our backs and 200 euros in a belly pouch which my wife happens to be wearing.
“calm down shea… calm down… get your wits about you, this is no time to freak out. You have to figure this out… You’ve got to get out of here now. Even if that means going back into the airport… you have to get away from the crowd and get your wits about you, and you have to do that now! You cannot freak out… you have to find the train station or you’ll be stuck here until tomorrow.”
I looked at Misti and without another word grabbed her hand and we walked across the street back into the more quiet area of the airport. We got out of the mess outside and pulled maps in an attempt to figure the whole mess out. I looked for signs anything that looked like a train or a bus or… a visitor’s center! Misti saw the visitor’s center sign and lead the way as we walked to the desk. From where we were at we didn’t even know if anyone was still there, after all it was 11:25pm and the lady could have gone home for the night putting a long day at work behind her. I was never so glad to see a smiling Italian woman in my entire life. I asked if she spoke English and in perfectly understandable English she told us how to catch the next bus since we just missed the last bus, giving us a traveler’s map of Milan.
With new found confidence in the plan of attack we headed out the bus stop. We were greeted by the smiling faces of another American couple that just arrived from California headed up to Lake Como. They were very sweet and talked with us about their flight from England. They went through the same crap we did, but were wise enough to plan on staying in Milan that first night. Conversation seemed enjoyable and going well right up until the wife popped out one of her breasts to feed her young baby. (I recognize this is a natural and perfectly normal thing to do, especially in today’s freewheeling culture, I’m not upset, it was just unexpected and therefore momentarily shocking.)
With that a few awkwardly silent moments passed until our bus pulled into the station. We got on and gladly watched the bus driver put the distance between us and the craziness of the Airport. Optimism was abounding. Maybe the train would run all night, or even once or twice a night after midnight… Maybe we’d catch the last train out… maybe just maybe we’d be alright after all. The radio on the bus was playing something I didn’t understand, but it didn’t matter because the seats were cushy and comfortable. We were finally going somewhere, and as the black diesel smoke arose into the pitch night from the back of the bus I was still nervous but at least neither of us was shot!

one last thing...

MAN ALIVE!!! I sure am proud of that painting!

basic instructions...

I just saw a blog entitled basic instructions... and it made me think of that song "basic instructions before leaving earth..." I know that's not the proper title but I like that one better. I used to know how to play some of that other song they have. I have since forgotten the name and the tune. It is officially lost forever, unless someone can come up with an MP3 of my mystery song that was off the same cd as basic instructions. I'm just too lazy and it's just too late.


In unrelated news, I really enjoy talking to my old friends. Even if it's only for a minute or over a gmail chat... I like being involved in their lives and not feeling so far out of the loop. I think that must be one reason I love the blogging. I feel like I can be caught up with them. I especially like Joel's blog, always humorous, sometimes very serious, sometimes just "hey, this is what I'm doing today. La de daah." But it's awesome because I at least have an idea of what's going on. I don't just show up one day and come to find out HOLY CRAP Joel got married, has a dog, and owns his own condo - and TOM has a mustang!!! These things are awesome and I rejoice with them over the new events of their lives, but it's just great being able to do that as they happen and not all at once.

speaking of lah de dahh... my day has been somewhat humdrum. I got another passion fruit Iced tea from the 'bucks. That is my FAVORITE drink of all time! 2 reasons, 1. it's delicious, and fruity, and not bitter.
2. I'm cheap... and so is that drink. Even if Misti didn't work there I could still buy the drink at original price and just refill it for 50 cents... and not even just once while I'm at that store... but as LONG as I keep the cup! AMAZING!

I must say that I was first introduced to the 'bucks by another old friend Katie Orr who at that time was still Landrum. I only liked it because all the local 'bucks stores had cranium, which we would play and have quite a good time. I do remember one instance though when Katie Orr got so very upset when we were playing. She is/was very competative, maybe being married to Chris has removed that from her. Anyway, enough walking down memory lane. I think it is time for bed.

Well, it's finally done. And what a painting it turned out being, if I do say so myself. I'm excited to get started on my next painting. I call them paintings and not collage because I'm "painting" in principle, I'm just using paper instead of acrylics. It's not something I'm totally used to doing yet, but I'm begining to figure it out. It's much more time consuming but it's really fun and really much more challenging to me than painting is.

I'm pretty stinkin' proud of myself...

I have never claimed to be... nor ever will claim to be a technician when it comes to anything computers. Unlike most old, fuddy-duddies I dont' have an inherent distrust of computers, as a matter of fact, I like them quite a bit. The problem is that I just don't care enough to learn anything about them. That being said, I have no idea how to make a website, nor do I know anything about flash and HTML code. But thanks to Google and their fine stable of techno-geeks, I was able to understand and create my own code for linking my blog to another website in a NEW window.

Yes, I realize that is standard operating procedure for most 4 year olds, but I'm impressed with myself! We all have to start somewhere. After the minutes of figuring it all out though I opted for the much easier (already written) flash code to embed in my blog. Oh Well.

wow...

 


Misti and I went on a hike up to Table Rock, SC a month ago and I'm just now getting around to adding the pictures to my online webalbum. There's nothing like THIS in Chicago, I can tell you that for a fact! No lie, this is one of the most beautiful places I've ever been.

Please enjoy my Slideshow:

 
 


This is the beginning of my newest work of art. It's not even close to finished yet, but I thought I'd give a little preview as I'm really liking how well it is starting to turn out. The picture next to it is the actual subject I'm working from. It's from a new series I've started on water and rocks. I'm really not sure what to name the series as of now, but I'm creative and will hopefully be able to come up with something better than water and rocks. Misti and I were talking about this afternoon, and she suggested rockin' water! I don't think she was serious. At least I hope not.

There's something really cool about how Rocks and water interact with each other. On the outside they seem so different (because they are). They contrast so sharply, water is soft, rocks are not. Water is fluid, Rocks are not. Water is deflected and moved by huge boulders and small river stones. Rock is shaped and destroyed by the powerful water that rushes by it. Water can destroy rocks and Rocks can stop a flow of water dead in it's tracks. That's poetic if you ask me. It's symmetrical, and it works - not the same, symmetrical; just like Misti and I. It reminds me of how amazing the Lord's wisdom is that he planned it to be precisely that way.

This one's for you Boone!

 

I found Italian fairly simple to understand. This fine sign was found on a jaunt through Rome. I have come to the conclusion that it was Italian for Proctologist... I'll let you be the judge.

Blue Rhapsody in the midst of Souza's March.

I tell you what I never cease to be surprised by the white hairs. Tonight Mist and I went on a little date to the concert at Furman. Once again, it didn't fail to produce another interesting experience.

Tonight's concert was over the musical stylings of Gershwin, Cole Porter, and the Marches of John Sousa. I love going to these concerts with mist because I can almost be guaranteed that we will be the youngest attendants by a large margin. What's even better is realizing that they don't know you're actually there. These QTips go crazy at this concert. For instance, at the end, Misti had long since given up on paying any attention to the crowd, and managed to miss a confluence of fleshy dancing I haven't seen since I went to the Booty club and saw this really big girl shaking anything that moved (and there was a lot that moved.) I agree that "Stars and Stripes Forever" is beat heavy tune, but immediately you would have thought the band leader would have started playing free bird. THEY WENT CRAZY! Clapping, dancing... I kid you not, they were marching like they were leading a band. I had no idea what to think and almost thought I must still be dreaming after falling asleep to one of their rendetions of Cole Porter's music, but I wasn't this was really happening!

I looked over at misti to see if she was watching this once in a lifetime Old folks rave... appearently, Kate winslett's thoughts on being a new mom were somewhat more interesting. I don't doubt she was listening, but boy did she miss out on the real show. Next time I'm bringing my video camera so I can post this phenomenon on youtube.

I love living in Greenville. Seriously, I am absolutely loving it!!! I think that if anyone wants to move from their hometown and move somewhere I'd suggest Greenville. Then again, I guess that'd depend on who was asking. Everytime I think about how happy I am here, I become even more impressed by Misti's wisdom to request living here. She really is a smart cookie.

Chris, you were right, Easley and Anderson are definitely no substitute for Greenville.