ZACH BLOG – END OF PARIS, START OF MILAN
5:30am. The time before when Jesus wakes up to start the day off. Matt and I were up, and we made our final voyage to the Blanche metro station, saying our final farewell to the world’s most famous Red Windmill. We jumped on the Metro, bound for Gare Lyon railway station. As we entered the station, we located the ticket office, got our Eurail passes validated, and jumped on our TGR train bound for Milano Centrale. There’s not much to write about this journey, except that the train bypassed some of the most beautiful scenery in the known universe. France’s countryside was reminiscent of the Scottish Highlands, or New Zealand’s Remarkables. In between taking breaks playing music and games on my portable telephony device, I’d look up and gaze in awe at the mountains and lakes, snow capped trees and crashing torrents of huge bodies of water that Australia is severely lacking in. One of the best parts of this journey, to me, is simply seeing water. The cities all have seemingly endless supplies of water, which they use all over the place in fountains and water features scattered throughout their spider webbed streets. The creeks and rivers that flow, know how to flow – and could (and should) teach Australian rivers a thing or two.
While on the train, we had our tickets inspected by a Frenchman, then another Frenchman, then French National Police checked our Passports, then an Italian checked our tickets, then an Italian checked our tickets again. We arrived at Milano Centrale after seven hours on the train. The Italian countryside, in stark contrast to the French, was quite atrocious as we neared Milan. It was like a huge dump. Thousands of condemned buildings scattered the horizon, remnants of World Wars, building waste, and shanty towns. It felt like Papua New Guinea. However, as the train made into the station, the scene changed drastically.
We made our way down about seven escalators to the Milan Underground, also known as the Metro. Luckily, the station we needed to head to (Moscova) was two stops away from Central. Fantastica! Just as I had worked out the ticket machine, some loud mouthed Italian fuck walks over and starts explaining how to work the machine. Being polite I let him work through the motions, then he said “And that’s it, you’re done”. I thanked him, and he walked off. Then he walked back and asked for some money to get to his station. I told him to fuck off. No, I didn’t. Sorry mum. Not in those words, anyway. I declined him the monetary reward he requested. How’s that? We boarded our train, and hit Moscova. There, to our delight, we discovered the hotel was literally a 50 meter walk from the train station. This was, of course, due to our epic planning, and NOT due to total fluke. *Cough*.
We arrived mid afternoon, so we hit the streets in search of treasures and glory. Or, at least, a feed. We found a “ristorante”, which seemed quite decent in pricing (5.50 euro for a lasagne, 7.00 euro for a margarita pizza). We ordered, myself having the pizza, Matt getting the pizza. Just as I was telling Matt that the pricing seemed quite reasonable in regards to Paris, my lasagne arrived, and dead set it would not have fed an anorexic. 5.50 euro is equivalent to roughly $10 Australian. I’d paid ten bucks for a square of lasagne. I polished it off and ordered the pizza as well. Needless to say, after a $24 lunch, I did not eat dinner that night.
We got lost. Or rather, I got us lost. After being the Navigator for much of the trip up to this point, my skills had officially failed. Though I had a map, I just could not orient our way. Matt gladly took up the helm at this point and led us back to the hotel. We threw some TV on, bought a beer from a vending machine, and hit the sack.
Next day we awoke at 8am and headed down to break the fast. Probably the best breakfast so far on this trip. Nothing hot, but a wide selection of colds and bread. Then we headed into town, for a 9:30am city tour. We jumped on the bus, and took off on the tour. First stop was Fort Milan, a fortress that once stood at the top of the town, when it was a walled city (where Da Vinci worked). It was pretty epic. In the part of the fortress where the Lord lived, the stairs leading up to his apartment were wider, so he could fly up there on his horse, Zorro style. Leaving the Fortress, we hit the bus again bound for the Santa Maria Della Gracie church (I think that’s what it’s called) which houses The Last Supper. We walked in through two glass vaults before we were allowed in the Refectory where the painting is. They give you fifteen minutes face time with the painting, before they allow the next small group in. It was amazing standing in its presence. I had no idea that it was as big as it is (it takes up an entire wall). The apostles in the picture are all life sized, as Da Vinci had designed it to look like an extension of the room. I had no idea about the intricacies of the picture – that all the apostles are showcasing different emotions - that John next to Jesus was a mellow biblical character, whereas Peter who is next to John is holding a knife (he was the one that furiously de-eared the guard who grabbed Jesus), and Judas in front of him, I never noticed, carrying the bag of coins he was paid with for his betrayal. The apostles are grouped in four lots of three, three being of course one of the most important religious numbers (the Holy Trinity, etc). Just amazing to be standing in its presence. It was damaged by monks putting a door in underneath it (the kitchen was in the next room, stupid Dominicans), allied bombing during WWII, and restoration efforts of the 20th century which removed 80% of its colour. The most recent restoration took twenty years! They wouldn’t need to restore it so much if Da Vinci had painted it right in the first place – he painted it in a dry, non-fresco style which took him over three years, when paintings done in the fresco style are meant to be completed within a week. The painting started to decay at 20 years of age. Anyway, it was a great experience.
After we were shafted from the church, we headed to the bus for the Milanese Opera House (La Scalla), one of the most famous Opera Houses in the world. We got to go into a private box to watch a rehearsal of tonight’s performance – was pretty great. The outside of the Opera House is incredibly boring, however it’s still better looking than the concretious turd that is QPAC. Prima Donna such as Maria Callas became famous at this place. After hitting the Opera House, we headed to another Church – Milan’s Duomo, the third biggest Cathedral in the world. It has the most amazing marble facade on the outside, and was the place that St. Augustine was baptised. It is truly a beautiful thing to admire. The inside isn’t as brilliant as St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, but the outside is incredible. Though on the inside, right at the top of the Cathedral’s east end (the most Holy end), there lies a Relic that is said to be the nail that pierced Christ’s right hand on the crucifix, which is pretty cool. At this point in the day, it started to snow. Hard. It was fucking awesome. I love snow so incredibly much. After catching snowflakes for a while, we headed inside the Galleria Vittoria Emanuele II, which is right next to the Cathedral, and investigated some of Milan’s great brands such as Gucci, Versace, and Prada. We looked in all the stores of the high end stuff like Louis Vuitton and Cartier, and the stuff they have is just amazing. Matt bought an epic tie from Louis Vuitton, which he is incredibly proud of. After looking around at the stores, we decided to go to the other main high end section in Milan, the Quadrilatero d’Oro (or Golden Quad). This part of town houses the flagship stores of the brands like Versace, Gucci, Dolce and Gabbana, Mont Blanc, etc. I bought a wallet from Mont Blanc, which I am particularly pleased with.
We trudged home through the sludge that now lined the streets, our shoes and socks drenched with snow sludge, with Matt once again leading the way as I had led us down a street in completely the wrong direction after leaving the Galleria. Now we’re defrosting. Snow keeps falling in the background of my vision, like the negative light you get when you stare at a light bulb then look away.
MATT BLOG – END OF MILAN, START OF VENICE
Buon Giorno! We left snowy Milan at around 7:30am, relieved that we were able to fit in what was probably our best breakfast on tour – with cold meats available with our chocolate croissants and various other breads. We took the train from Milan to Venice, which took almost 3 hours. During that time, an Indian man sat next to us and started making conversation with Zach, whom he took a great shining to. He would regularly talk to Zach and even invited him over to his seat to talk to another Indian friend. He asked about the crisis of Indian students being targeted for violent attacks, which we told him were over-exaggerated by the media outlets. Anyway, this Indian guy took pictures of EVERYTHING – including of us, him getting on the train at a stop on the way to Venice, a picture of him handing the ticket controller his ticket and we took a picture of him sitting down on a seat, keen for the adventure ahead.
We got off at the train station in Venice, and at first the place seemed like a dump. A large sweeping canal going all around the city separating the city. When we eventually found out where we were staying, which was just near San Marco square, we were slightly relieved. But we had to pay 6.50 EU for a boat to take us from the train station to the hotel. When we first found the hotel, we were a little pessimistic as to the state it would be in. When we got inside the reception, it smelt like a used toilet / a regularly used slaughterhouse and faeces processing plant mixed into the one. It would be safe to say it smelt like burnt leathery bacon. Anyway, we walked 200 or so metres to get to the room (which was in the new part of the hotel, and was ages away from reception) and once we got in, it was by far the best hotel that we have stayed in on this trip (save for the Clontarf Castle, but it was up there).
We realised that we had arrived during a popular time in Venice – Carnivale. Everyone wore masks or dressed up in elaborate garments and took to the streets to celebrate a somewhat meaningless event, but fun nonetheless. San Marco square was packed with people and a large display was set up for what seemed to be a big opening ceremony for the event. We had lunch at a restaurant near the area, where a band dressed completely in green were smashing liquor down and starting to play outside the restaurant. They were a big success as people were dancing around, including one kid who looked slightly homosexual as he pranced about the streets while his parents placed their hands over their own heads. This band marched and played for about 100 metres, to another pub where they sat down and drank some more. Later in the afternoon, they had reached another 400 metres or so down the road and were outside another pub trying to play their instruments, but they were quite a lot more intoxicated than before and therefore struggled to keep in time. But the people still loved them and were still dancing along.
We went down to San Marco square to see the opening ceremony thing which was due to start at 7pm. However, nothing was happening and they didn’t look ready to start at 7pm, so we looked around, took some pictures of a guy in an apron smoking a cigarette who was doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING for an hour. When we came back at around 8:30pm, the show hadn’t started and that guy with the apron was on stage doing absolutely nothing. Zach and I were obsessed with this guy, that we regularly took pictures of him going about his chores in preparation for the big event.
Considerably bored, we went home at about 9pm and slept. There’s no wifi anywhere, even though Venice had a big wifi infrastructure put in a couple of years ago. So the only internet we can use is the computer in the hotel reception, where a creepy Indian receptionist looks over your shoulder every 3 seconds to see what you’re doing. Ciao!
ZACH BLOG – VENICE, DAY 2
Ahhh, Venice. You beautifully ugly thing. Contradiction? Perhaps. We awoke this morning to dry shoes and socks (our first for a couple of days, ever since the snow sludging at Milan) that we had dried next to the room heaters during the night. This apartment is exciting as Matt and I each get our own room – Matt claimed the double bed again, and had his suitcase carried to the room for him by the hotel guy. What can I say – the man is better at shotgun. I’m on what’s effectively a couch bed – I thought it would fold out into a double – I was wrong. There’s a TV in my room, true. But it only has Italian channels, and one channel of English movies dubbed entirely in Italian. Oh, there’s something funny I wanted to point out to you – it is HILLARIOUS hearing Italian children talking. “MascerpaROne, Mamma, Si, Si!” It’s funny enough hearing Italians talk, what with all their seemingly unnecessary variations in vocal range during the middle of a word – SpaghEHtti. BelIIIISSIIImo. It is FIVE TIMES FUNNIER to hear the kids do it, with their squeaky voices. God, it makes me laugh.
Anyway, we awoke, and breakfasted in the hotel down the street. Simple continental breakfast, very decent. Then we headed downstairs to use the internet and to post our last few blogs – only we couldn’t use my laptop, because they didn’t have WiFi. Nobody in this country has WiFi. Though they had advertised on the internet they HAD internet that could be used, we could ONLY use it on THEIR computer. So, I put the blogs on a USB and went to their computer – which was behind the reception desk, and was actually the computer they use for all their hotel stuff. The Indian guy was welcoming. At first. After five minutes, he asked me if I was finished yet. Then he proceeded to look over my shoulder every fifteen seconds at what I was doing. He asked me again if I was finished yet, after another three minutes. I said “soon”. He asked me again. By this point I was pissed off, and just said “no”. But then I thought, blow this, I’m not going to give this guy the satisfaction of seeing what I’m doing anymore, and just logged off. Oh, and the computer had no USB port – so I couldn’t even post the blogs. Totally unsuccessful endeavour.
We left the hotel, and decided to get lost walking around Venice. We found a cool church, something in our region of Castello, which had its very own leaning tower. It was less glamorous than Pisa (I guess, we haven’t been there yet) and we weren’t allowed in because it was a Sunday and only church goers are permitted in on Sunday. Rather than attend a service entirely in Italian, we bailed. We walked down the quiet canals of Venice taking the odd photo. Venice’s beauty, in my opinion, is not in the San Marco square where ALL the tourists go (especially at the moment with Carnavale on, but more on this later), but in the random canals that poke past the residential streets. Venice is beautifully ugly, because it’s just a huge dock. If you’ve been to any dock anywhere in the world, you’ll see that it’s a dirty, mouldy, rusty, thing. Water acts on everything if it’s there long enough, and Venice has been here a while. But it’s inexplicably beautiful. I found myself thinking “God, this is like the Venetian in Macau” and then realized that the Venetian was based on this place. Everything was based on this place. The random mashing of different buildings together is a, why, it’s a bittersweet symphony. Thank you, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.
We found the only McDonalds in Venice and it had absolutely free, no-need-to-provide-your-passport-details WiFi. Absolutely free – not just free (That was for you, Shan). We stayed there for an hour and a half using phone WiFi for information purposes, and we will return to use it tomorrow with the laptop hopefully so we can post our blogs.
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