As I sat on the bus from the airport to Milano Centrale I had a reflection on my previous summer here and I panicked. I was ill for a week, which was hellish. I nearly got arrested, twice. Both occasions were not my fault, I was just the translator! And I had spent a weekend on my own and got very emotional with my own thoughts. But then, I heard the Italian radio. The endless Italian rambling by the familiar voice and awful, dated English music deterred any negative thoughts. Suddenly I was back. I reasoned with myself, I know that last summer was incredible but you have those moments that you ponder on the bad experiences (or should I say the experiences that one should learn from). I remembered the times of the disco-tech, awful dancing and terrifying moped rides. Large family meals and the endless fannying about. Picking muscles fresh from rocks and sitting outside till 1 or 2 in the morning without a jacket, because you can. Getting off the bus I was confronted by an Italian man, asking for directions. Being mistaken for Italian is a wonderful feeling in itself but for it to be followed by walking through one of the most beautiful, thriving cities in the world, it's as if it's your own movie.
I got to my hotel and it was beautiful. A large, air conditioned double bed and the most wonderful view over the shopping street below. Seeing this, and feeling on top of the world, I showered (always recommended after any travelling), changed and headed out for an evening in Milan. A restaurant was suggested by the hotel desk but thought I'd have a wander. The smell of the heat in Italy is indescribable, it's just something you have to experience yourself. You can taste the country and feel it on your skin as if it was an actual perfume. It's not the smell of freshly made dough, or strong Italian coffee, it's the air itself. Enchanted with this overwhelming sense, I walked around a small park, tackalling the unpredictable roads with traffic coming from every direction and turning in every direction. It was coming up to 8.30 and after a day of travelling I was feeling pretty done. I sat at a table outside a quaint restaurant in the Milanese evening heat. Not only was I amazed, once again, by the stunning wine and food that Italy holds, but I was captivated by the language and happenings around me. The men to the left discussing how little they ate after destroying 3 courses. The couple opposite drinking 3 beers each, finishing with a shot of Limoncello and then receiving their moped helmets from the waiter. There is something about Italian life that just encaptures me.
The tomato salad and small bottle of Pinot Grigio, along with everything else, reminded me why I adore this country, so much.
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