By train it takes seven and a half hours to get to Milano from Monaco/München/Munich. Despite this being my third time in Italia in the past seven months, I’ve never actually travelled to Italia by train before.

Last couple of times were Marco and Franco (Manuel’s bro-in-law) respectively. And at first the thought of being on a train for almost eight hours was daunting, but as it turned out, it wasn’t that bad. A lot of snoozing and some writing and before I knew it, I was at the Milano Centrale station.

Waiting for me was me old pal Manuel. First thing he said was, “You’ve got a Chinese haircut.” He has a way with words, as you can see. Apparently I looked like the Bavarian Yeti before.

He took me right home to his apartment, right in the heart of Milano and it’s great. Blue would prolly hate it cuz it’s like something out of an IKEA catalogue. Spare, minimalist, so I like. The couch in the living room was my designated sleeping place for the night, which was not as bad as it sounds, cuz it folded out to a bed more comfortable than my Munich one.

I met his roomie, Mattia, and also his other apartmentmate, Andrea and his girlfriend, Cristina. All Italians, so wonderful, wonderful people. Nearly all of them Manuel clones in dress sense. Most university kids here are like that. Makes me feel absolutely underdressed. Not that I mind. I look more like Monkey Boy now than anything else; just ready to go anywhere. Ready for anything. Backpacker’s motto, I suppose.

We went outside soon enough cuz the weather was lovely. Apparently shitty last week, but I always bring good weather to Italy. We have statistics to prove this.

The first place Manuel brought me to was the Duomo. I’ve got to say that the Milanese one is a hundred times better than the one in Firenze. (Readers ought remember I had issue with its colour scheme.) This Duomo’s completely Gothic, huge, cavernous and awesome. Even Manuel seemed impressed, having not been here for quite a bit himself.

Next, we went to the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, which is like this cool Euro-shopping mall, you know, the kind with glass ceilings and intricate ironwork. It’s Fashion Week, as Dona, our insider in the glitzy business tells me, and the place is thronged with Hong Kong girls dressed in Versace and whatnot. Unreal but nice nonetheless.

Manuel was miffed that I had not heard of the Piazza della Scala, this world famous Teatro, but just as when he was showing me, earlier in the day, photos of his and Gosia’s trip across the US, famous means shit to this ignorant sheep sometimes.

We then took a nice walk down the Corso Vittorio Emanuele where we met the ever lovely Dona who had rushed all the way from work for us. Also, less ten minutes later, Giorgio, and then it was just this Chinese kid enjoying the sounds and sights of Italians chatting merrily away. Yeah.

We went for an aperitif in this sidewalk cafe where more snotty Fashion Things lingered. Bah. You know, it’s just a really good time with these people. The beer was schlect of course, but what did you expect. We left after a bit, and looked for Marco.

Marco came later cuz he had drive all the way from Pavia, no doubt leaving mass destruction in his path. Well, he arrived soon enough in trademark red shirt, instantly putting a wide grin on me face. Hugs all round and more chat, more Italian. Then we headed off to dinner, though Giorgio had to leave then, a pity.

The restaurant they wanted to take me to was closed so we settled for a supposedly Ristorante Toscana. Dinner conversation was as lively as ever. Dona was really worried about me going on this trip alone yet refused to entertain any idea of me getting murdered. Strange things, girls.

We finally got back to Manuel’s place and I presented Dona with the last drawing I’m ever gonna do in quite awhile. At first she was angry cuz she thought the drawing of the naked girl was supposed to be her, but when she found out it wasn’t, she started cooing and saying how beautiful it was.

Marco put it best when he said that it was porn if I drew her, but art if it was some other girl.

(That didn’t sound right either. Well, I suppose you gotta be there.)

This plus something special just for me three fav Italians but I’m not gonna say what it is. Keep you guessing. Let’s just say I was impressed that they were impressed.

(And Dona kept saying I was gonna make her cry but never quite carrying out the threat.)

We walked Dona home cuz she was really tired and in spite of her trying to shoo us. C’mon, we’re gentlemen, a dying breed! Enjoy us while you can! Then another “scenic” route around the city (or Manuel’s way of insisting he knows where Marco’s car was) and we were back. A long, heartfelt Buona notte to Marco later, and I am in bed.

Or sofa, really.

Make that a sofa-bed. A really comfortable one.

N.B. We’re going out for panzerotti at Luini later, then a visit to Castello sforzesco and a walk along Via Dante. Lunch was excellent, tortellini with Parmesan cheese and some real Italian, really solid cream.

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Copyright © 2002 Kenny Mah Ying Fye.