THE NAKED PHOTO ALBUM |
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PAUL'S PICTURES AND COMMENTS
PAUL'S THOUGHT: HELP ME, I'M A GENIUS
STUCK IN THE BODY OF AN IDIOT.
Bottom left: The guide book promised this magnificent sight. A 'poem in marble', as Mark Twain put it so well. However, the fates were against us... |
Bottom middle: ...And this is what I got to see of the 'Doh'mo. As Father Jack might say, "Arse". |
Bottom right: How could anyone resist being able to say that they've photographed Cocks in Italy? Obviously I am one of those who couldn't. |
PAUL'S THOUGHT: ONLY EXPRESS YOURSELF
WHEN YOU'RE SURE YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.
Bottom left: Turn around and go home. Our flight was due to leave at 14.35 on the Thursday. The 12pm coach should have taken an hour to get from Milan to the airport at Bergamo. However, because of a smash on the autostrada, we arrived at the check-in desk an hour and twenty minutes later than we'd planned to, which was a few minutes too late, as it turned out. Stranded in Italy for an extra day (or doubling the length of the trip, to put it another way) we were forced to re-think our plans... |
Bottom middle: Bergamo Steps. Not an Italian tribute band, but rather these steps in Piazza Vicchia, Bergamo Alta! And that's Gavin, two nice American girls we met (Chagmi and Nicolee) when we missed our flight, and I grinning upon them. Click here to see a video of the beautiful Piazza. (The steps are the ones in front of the tall tower.) |
Bottom right: Plane crazy. It was about 2.30am in the darkened airport concourse that I challenged Gavin and the girls to a paper plane competition. Nicolee was already fading fast and so wasn't able to join in but Chagmi did. However, hers was a very poor effort so it came down to Gavin and I in the final. Modesty stops me from reporting the winner. Oh, all right then. It was Gavin, although I still feel the addition of such a large tail is not in the true spirit of the sport of paper-plane modeling. |
PAUL'S THOUGHT: IT ISN'T WHAT YOU DO, IT'S THE WAY
THAT YOU DO IT. PROPER GRAMMAR COSTS NOTHING.
When near Rome...
GAVIN'S PERSPECTIVE
(He didn't bring a camera.)
[Notes by Paul appear in brackets like these.]
Paul had told me a few weeks previously that he had planned an adventure. I had no idea what it was to be, [he feared that I planned to take him to Amsterdam and sell him to the white slave trade. He even felt compelled to check my car for gaffer tape!] but the day before he told me to pack a change of clothes and my passport and be ready to go. [By 9.30 am. And he was.]
Paul picked me up [in my Jag - the Kit being unsuitable for the trip] and we headed off to Luton Airport. I had been thinking that the passport was a red herring [well, they are red ;-)] and that we going somewhere by car. [I played-up to this by pretending to slow and turn into a Wild Fowl Park. What larks.]
What had happened was that Paul got tickets to Bergamo near Milan for a pound and tickets back for 2 pounds [actually a pound each way plus taxes. About £20.50 return each], via the RyanAir web site.
We left on that Wednesday [planning to return on Thursday] and got to Milan in the afternoon, [after passing over the Alps, we had a fairly dull, movie-less (still, it was nice not to have to sit through something like My Big Fat Greek Wedding again. The only thing that stopped me walking out of that was that we were at 34,000 feet at the time) flight. I'm happy to say our luggage arrived in Italy without drama too.] taking the bus [an air conditioned coach complete with nice Italian girl in front of us who, strangely, was asking us directions!] from Bergamo to Milan, which took about an hour [to get to a station some way from the centre of the city. There was a walk through the modern streets and a nice park ahead of us.] We spent the afternoon and evening walking around looking for impressive things. We [Gavin, while looking for a place to change some money] found the Duomo (Cathedral) which is [one of] the largest Gothic building in Europe. We were impressed. [Tiz true.] We also found the 16th century Castellano (castle) which was also very impressive. [It's where I found this picture. You can see the castle reflected in this woman's glasses.]
Paul had eaten at McDonalds, as is his want. [It was situated in this lovely arcade.
It's not that I like McDonalds, it's just that I know what to expect there]
I wanted to have something authentically Italian and because I knew I would only be
eating one meal in Italy I decided I should have my favourite... Lasagne.
We wandered up and down the streets [dodging trams] looking at the menus.
Paul looked on, bemused, as I dismissed restaurant after restaurant for different reasons.
I explained to him that my family holiday training had spoiled me. The perfectionist attitude to finding a
restaurant has been drummed into me too well. "This menu's got pictures all over it and is half in English... let's find another one"
Most of them didn't do Lasagne.
"This one's ok, isn't it Gavin?"
"ummm... Menu looks ok... they do Lasagne. They don't have English on the menu..." I looked around.
"No, let's go somewhere else, there's no one else eating here!"
Eventually I did get my Lasagne. We had a nice view of the Duomo [not from that restaurant, but from an earlier one we'd sat in for a bit before it was rejected] and the world walking by. I had a Kir Imperial and a fairly neutral Lasagne, but was undercharged by one Euro, so I was happy. [I photographed a shop called Cocks, so I was happy too.]
We had planned on not going to bed to save money on a hotel room because Milan would probably be alive all through the night. [My plan, in truth. Tight, moi?] As it happened, Milan is more of a business city than a leisure city, so everything was more or less shut by 2am. At 2:30 my feet were getting very tired, so we got a hotel room [a twin. Let's scotch those rumours right now] for half price [ish. 100 Euros instead of 150 at the three-star 'Rio'] because of the time (he wasn't going to be making money out of it by that time of night).
On Thursday, after a [bit of larking about and a ride in a scary lift we had an 8.30am] breakfast of cappuccino [He got mine too - Horrible stuff. If I wanted to dip my tongue in tar, I would] and croissant [much nicer than the other thing I spotted on the menu] we saw the Duomo [with trees in spring blossom] and Castellano [with exciting fountain] by day. We got up on to the roof of the Duomo and were amazed at the amount of work that went into it. [And the view across the city.] The Castellano was free to get in, and so were the two art galleries it housed. [A nice display of Armour for Gavin to admire, plus an unfinished work by Michelangelo.] It was just as impressive in the daylight.
We then caught the underground train across the city to catch the bus to Bergamo airport.
We just made it in time for the bus. At the bus stop the driver asked for our tickets and we looked blankly at him.
"Arrrgghhh, where do we buy them then?!!!"
He pointed some directions to us and then told us we had two minutes! We looked at each other.
"GO!" the driver said and mimed running.
Off we raced.
The tickets were for sale at a news stand inside the train station. Why hadn't WE thought of looking there? [I later got a refund on them because of the hoo-har which followed. read on...]
We ran back and the driver was still waiting for us. We puffed and panted our way onto the coach and collapsed into our seats.
The coach pulled away and we sped off to the airport.
Unfortunately... speeding turned to dawdling. Dawdling turned to crawling and crawling turned to stopping.
The traffic had got slower and slower on the autostrada (motorway) and had eventually ground to a halt.
At the next junction the police were directing the traffic off the autostrada.
It seems that an accident further on had closed all three lanes.
[And vehicles were even being sent back along the road towards us.]
After a trip through a little town called Lallio, which wasn't on the map Paul had (so we were unable to gauge how close we were to the airport) one of the passengers on the coach started to swear loudly to herself (it was in Italian, but she had the look of a woman using 'bad' Italian words), so I realised that maybe we weren't going to get there in time. The coach reached the airport an hour and a half later than it should have done. We arrived five minutes before our plane took off, so did not manage to get on it in time. [Bah!]
I was supposed to be going swimming with Ciara and Callum [his children] on Friday morning, so I was quite upset. RyanAir said that to fly on the next flight would cost us 250 Euros each and would take us to Stanstead instead of Luton. The alternative was to wait until Friday morning and pay 60 Euros each. There were a couple of American girls there in the same position as us. We decided to pay the 60 [he says 'We'. In fact it was me. Hence the planned name for this page changed from Milan or Bust (to give it a 60's-esque 'Italian Job' feel) to Milan and/or Bust (to also reflect my financial position after the trip!)] and wait until Friday. They had decided the same and we got talking about RyanAir and the general negative conversations that fellow travellers have upon missing their flight through no fault of their own and being faced with a completely uncaring, unmoving airline official. [And she was also fat and had nasty lipstick on.]
Paul and I then had to decide whether to go back to Milan for the evening [and risk a repeat problem returning to the airport, plus where would we sleep?] or stay at the airport for 20 hours. [Which would at least be warm enough to sleep in.] As we discussed it, the American girls asked us if we wanted to go to Bergamo with them. They were Chagmi (pronounced Shamee) and Nicolee, art students studying in Florence.
We got the bus to Bergamo [1.50 Euros], which they had visited briefly before and set off to find a bar to drown our sorrows. [In cola, in my case. Oh, and I'd broken my sunglasses :-( ] On the way to the bar though, was the Tourist Information office, [which looked so posh I thought we were heading into someones house] so we stopped to see what there was to see. Bergamo is actually an old medieval city on the hill surrounded by the 'new city'. We could see the old city walls up ahead and headed for them. Paul and Chagmi wanted to take the Funicular railway up to the old town, [my feet were hurting] but Nicolee and I wanted to walk. The views on the way up were really beautiful and the conversation was even better.
We met the others at the top and wandered around the old churches and buildings taking photos. It was great photograph taking territory, but maybe it just felt that way as there were three artistically minded people taking the photos... [Given the nickname Moose, after the fascist leader I look a bit like, plus the fact I had the only map, it fell to me to guide my troops to the sights, which included the main square, some nice views down into the new town and the old castle.]
As it started to get dark, we headed back down to the new city and to the bus station to get back to the airport. Rumbling stomachs led to Chagmi demonstrating her command of Italian by asking directions to cheap restaurants. A lovely Italian couple thought about it for ages before sending us to a restaurant that was part of the 'Ciao' chain. [Which lead to some potential problems in asking other people for further directions too it.] The set up was like a British motorway service station. Self service, hot and cold food, desserts and drinks in cold cabinets.
Chagmi chose pasta with a tomato sauce and parmesan on. It was cheap so I had that too. I watched as the man took the pasta from the dish and put it into simmering, oiled water to heat it up and bring it back to life. I imagined having pasta in an English motorway service station and being served a lump of pasta shapes all stuck together.
We wandered over to what Nicolee was looking at and swore.
There was fresh fish being cooked, turkey, beef, pork... all being cooked fresh.
She got some salmon and vegetables and we agreed to share everything! [While I looked on.]
Dinner was lovely and the conversation was punctuated by guesses at what the Italian TV show currently on was all about. [My impression of the potentially disastrous consequences of french-kissing a leper was also a big hit, as was my unwillingness to commit to the fruit they offered me] Great conversation and lots of laughter later and we realised we should probably get to the bus station to catch the bus back to the airport.
We got to the deserted and dark bays and read that the last bus had been half an hour ago.
Paul went off to McDonalds and we came to the conclusion that it hadn't been that far and we could walk it fairly easily.
After all... we had all night.
We looked all around for signs to the Airport and couldn't seem to find any, so Chagmi proved her worth once more by asking
a taxi driver what direction the airport was in.
He started to tell her which roads to take and then stopped.
My understanding of the language was improving hour by hour...
He said, "You're WALKING?"
"Si" Chagmi answered.
He pulled an incredibly incredulous face.
Shaking his head he said "No. It is autostrada, you can't walk."
"Ask him how much then", I directed.
"15 Euros" (about 10 pounds)
We thanked him and went off to pool our money together... Paul being the treasurer. We then set off to find somewhere to buy some alcohol
to brighten up our long evening in the airport.
Chagmi and I must have realised at the same moment that we hadn't actually SEEN a shop selling alcohol and we both turned round and
said "let's ask where we can get some first".
Chagmi asked the taxi driver where we could buy some alcohol in bottles to take away.
"You can't, not in this country. Not at this time of night"
We decided to just get in the taxi and go to the airport.
In the cab, the driver was explaining again that in Italy there is no such thing as an 'off licence' or 'liquor store'.
Chagmi said "It's not important"
"Oh yes it is!" joked the driver.
Paul asked what the conversation was about and I translated.
I was then struck by the fact that the previous day I only knew a couple of words of Italian and yet I could understand simple conversations.
Our conversation then went on to how amazing language is, then moved on to how amazing life itself is.
Nicolee put forward the thought that it would be really amazing if something you had made with Lego(tm) could just be alive.
We agreed that yes, Nicolee probably HAD needed a drink.
The taxi trip was short, which made me wonder if there had been other roads we could have walked along, saving our 15 Euros. The airport was very quiet, shutters either up already or going up. [Or down?] We got to the bar, which had bottles upon bottles of wine on the shelves. We [they] jumped up and down with delight at the fact the shop was still open, and then the shutter started coming down. [Ah! I told you so!]
Our exclamations of sheer horror were enough to stop the poor woman from bringing the
shutter down and Chagmi was able to ask to buy a drink.
"Yes, what do you want?"
"Wine!"
"Oh... no... sorry, can't serve that now"
Paul must have viewed this with amusement, being a teetotaller, but he kept a respectful silence and we moved off to find somewhere to sit.
The next seven hours were among the more surreal hours I have had in my life. [Mine too.]
Exploring an empty airport, trying to see where we could go that hadn't been locked was interesting... until we discovered that just
about everything WAS locked.
Looking at Nicolee's sketchpad was interesting. The three artists discussing the technical details of drawing the human form
and me saying "I like that one" and "that nose is good".
Nicolee sketched Paul sitting there talking, and shortly after that the conversation turned to poetry. Paul did his party piece of reciting 'Jabberwocky'. I was impressed. Not only at the fact he remembered it all, but at the feeling he put into it. [I also did my 'tongue trick' which was received with the usual amazement and mute shock by Chagmi. Gavin hadn't believed me when I told him about the reaction it usually gets. He's a non-believer no more.]
Nicolee then performed one of her own poems. She called it 'Slam poetry', which seemed to be a bit like what the Beat poets did. She usually recites her poems with a guitar accompanying her.
She started talking and her whole manner changed. She full of feeling and her eyes were closed with the telling of it. Her poem was about coming together as people. How our experiences belong to each other and that we are all a part of each other. I can't really describe it, but by the end of it my eyes had welled up with tears. [It's true, it kicked poetic arse.]
She stopped and the others congratulated her.
I wiped a tear from my eye and help my hand up for her to see.
"There you go, real tears"
She was surprised to have had that response, but really pleased. The conversation went on to why we perform, why we are creative.
Chagmi is a singer (she sings in a club in Florence called 'the Blob' [usually backed by a wacka-wacka guitar player.
And I don't mean he looks like Fozzy Bear, I mean he plays... oh work it out for yourself]). She didn't do a particular party piece,
but really she had been performing the whole night.
Actually... she did do a party piece. She introduced it as "Bad poem, by Chagmi"
Fluorescent light
Shining down
Too bright, it hurts my eyes
My father is indifferent
She threw her face down into her arms melodramatically with the last sentence and we all applauded.
She is a funny girl.
[My version had a certain something too I think:
Fluorescent Light
Fluo-Res-Cent Light (in a Mike Myres' So I Married An Axe Murderer stylee, which had been a
recurring theme of the day. "Woman. Wo-Man...etc")
They Are Too Bright
They Hurt My Eyes, My Sight
I Wish - My Poem - Wasn't Shite.]
I couldn't remember any of my poems to recite. I just never keep them inside me. Once they're written, they're gone from me. I tried to use the internet terminal in the airport to access some of it, [try here?] but it wouldn't accept my card.
Instead, later on in the night, something Chagmi said reminded me of the song 'Seven Drunken Nights' and so I treated everyone to a rendition of that. Chagmi joined in the chorus and I felt I'd contributed to the artistic evening! [He had.]
Later on in the evening there was the paper airplane throwing and
filming,
followed by attempts at sleeping. Nicolee had a sleeping bag and went off to sleep
really quickly at about 2am, well before anyone else.
Paul slept quite well too [it's the natural padding which makes even the hardest of airport benches comfy],
but Chagmi and I just couldn't get comfortable [too thin, you see] and
just kept on talking through the small hours of the morning.
Eventually, as I was lying there, some people walked past me, dressed in coats and carrying cases.
The flights had started again. It was 5:30.
I just kept trying to sleep as the airport gradually woke up again. At one stage I went off to the bathroom to wash my hair and clean my teeth and when I got back Chagmi was also asleep. [or at least pretending to, with comedy snores?] Eventually at about 7am I dozed off for about an hour.
We all woke up before Nicolee, and gradually everyone got washed [I'm sure I smelt like I needed to] and we went off to check in [just after nine, for a 10.55 flight. We had no plans to get caught out again by a long queue or similar.]
The flight was as flights are. Take off, land. [See me on board.] Nothing usually happens much, it's generally the end of the adventure. Nicolee did suffer terribly from pains in her ears with the pressure change and the landing was one of the worst I've experienced. The cloud cover was very low and if I didn't know better I would have said it spooked the pilot a bit. We bumped down onto the runway with great force and then, as we slowed, the plane suddenly swerved to the right before he corrected it's course.
Other than that, it was just a flight, inevitably followed by the goodbyes to Chagmi and Nicolee and their hellos to the people waiting for them.
Paul paid the unplanned-for inflated car park price [£22.50. It could have been worse...] and we set off home.
There are some other shots from this trip on my Portraits Page. Take a look if you feel like it.
There's lots of video I took in Italy and the trip there & back on my VIDEORAMASCOPE Page.
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