Europe 2003 - Part 2: Milano to Firenze

An initial note - I won’t post any poetry or other stories on this travelogue, just news because of lack of time (gawd, you want me to dig the world, not sit there typing do you?)

I’m making a special effort to trype accurately on this keyboard made for spiders. The hotel’s name was wrong - it’s called The Speronari. It’s rooms are fab, designed for complete anal cleanliness with a bidet in each room.

The Milanese don’t have big sticks up their asses, which is what it first appears to be. They are (alternatively phrased) … excessively catered for - most of them anyway. I had a fabulous supper of all mixed olive-oiled pastas and herbed rices with vegetables, it tasted heavenly. There’s a lemon soft drink called “Estea” which is by far the most quenching drink I’ve had. Halfway down Via Torino, a man asks me to do a free Dianetics “personality test” and being an opportunistic chump, I duly follow up, only to walk out five minutes later. No need to waste an hour to get an Italian “assessment” of my personality. “Kiss it man, I don’t need a test because you don’t have a dick!”, and this statement silenced his wails, to leave me walking away muttering British obscenities. I don’t do anything for nothing, my simple philosophy. After listening to music on the square in the evening, I retired early for sleep since my eyes were blaring tired.

I noticed that every time I had a shower (I had three), the cleaning ladies seem to be outside the door when I come out, with a big smile, I mean, hands up who’d wanna see me starkers? Exactly. To really send them over the moon, I sang Peter Frampton’s “Baby I love your way” as loud as I could, which made them giggle and they bellisimoed away.

And it was an interesting sleep. I dreamed that I was sleeping on the square and somebody kept bringing me ice packs to put under my scrotum! It was a very hot night. The following morning the sun had already gathered pace and slapped on my face like a brick, after I checked out. I grabbed breakfast and cappucino at a bakery, and detoured to my net cafe to write this note. Now I’m going to hop the Metro to Stazione Centrale, for the train to Florence.