Ok, so for part 2 I'm already sitting in Torino Airport (named after some "famous" Italian guy, but I'm not prepared to fork out my credit card details to sign on to the airport wi-fi network to find out who he is/was). I've just had a sandwich called an "Apollo" (suitably Greek-named for an Italian sandwich) and a Danish beer which, at 7.7% alcohol volume, could get you quite nicely pissed if you had just two. Just one, and I'd be over the legal Shit Towne driving limit, but luckily some other dafty is flying the kite out of here and not me. I hope he hasn't been on the Danish stuff when we leave...
Ok, where was I in the story?... Ah yes, I'd just got back into my cubicle in the Diplomatic Hotel...
I figured, seeing as it was only just after 1pm that I might phone my colleague and let him know I was back in town, but that was just a short lapse in my reasoning once I'd unreasonably thought that he might want me to come into the office seeing as it was still "early" and I decided to only call him after 2h30pm...just in case.
I spent the afternoon chilling out in my room with the TV on and figured out how to work out the Italian version of the SkyTV decoder. Most of the channels on SkyTV have the option to watch the show in the original language it was filmed in, so it's quite good to be able to watch something I can listen to as well as watch. The only problem I had with the TV setup was that all the films AND SPORT were pay-per-view. That sucked, as there was a couple of good football matches on that I could have watched, most notably the one where Rangers (once again) beat Hearts...(sorry for you, Jenny-May). There was also a couple of the local games on, which I could have watched too, though I'd much have preferred to go and watch the game at the stadium itself. Maybe next trip I will, if I can get one of the locals to go along with me. Most of the local guys seem to have TV channels where the games are broadcast live.
I sent my colleague a text message to his mobile to let him know I'd arrived back, and we made arrangements to go out for dinner later on. And on that front, we cannot complain...we have had dinner in some fantastic restaurants, and at reasonable prices too, I might add (relatively speaking, cos I have to multiply everything by 10 to get to ZAR equivalents. Just the other night, I spent the ZAR equivalent of R450 on a salad starter, seafood paella, 250ml bottle of red wine, a coffee and a grappa...I also bought a bottle of the grappa, which I'll explain shortly).
One of my favourite restaurants we dined at was called "Orysa" (pronounced Oh-rees-a), named after it's primary dish...rice. Everything in the restaurant has rice of some form in it. You can get dishes from all over the world, so long as they are rice-based. My favourite, for which I went back a second time a few days later when I was on my own, was the paella. The bottle of grappa I bought was made from...rice. Or, at least, that's what the restaurant owner and the label on the bottle told me. I suppose it's a little like Japanese Sake, only with a kick in it. The tot I had with my coffee certainly packed a punch and the first sip caught me a little off-guard. It's quite palatable after that though. The reason I bought the bottle is that it also, perhaps as a gimmick, has a stalk of rice pods and kernels in the bottle. Priced at 20 Euros I thought it was reasonable, and the bottle's a nice shape too...
I can't remember what we ate on the night in question, but needless to say it was another good restaurant. The other thing we would do after dinner was take a walk down some of the tight little Torino streets and see the lights on the main square alongside the Palazzo Madama (Ladies Palace). Me, I'm not used to walking great distances, in fact from the remote control to the TV is about my limit and that's at light speed. But these walks were nice though...the weather, as mentioned, is quite fresh at night with the overnight temperature dropping well below freezing point. Today, at 2h30pm, the temperature outside was 8degC...fresh enough. On the walks though, passing one of the abundant watchmaker shops which inexplicably all sell barometers and thermometers, the mercury would sometimes be around the 4degC mark.
Daytime was spent in the office, a non-descript building prupose-built right next to the FIAT plant. The project we're on is in support of the team that does the IT support for FIAT and they have an astounding number of systems in place. Yet, for some strange reason, the guys who did the proposal (and subsequently won the business) didn't figure out quite how they were going to do the disaster recovery for all these servers...in total, there's about 400 of them. And the local guys don't know where to start, which is why they called us in from the Global Team. We're getting used to being the guys who get called in last to fix other people's fuckups, and at super-speed too. Strangely enough, it's always the same division that calls us in to sort out their mess...Strategic Outsourcing Division (or SODs as I call them now).
We usually started in the office at around 9am and went through until about 6pm, with a company-sponsored lunch of two sandwiches and a coke in between. In between working though we also devoured copious amounts of Italian coffee, at dirt cheap prices, from the vending machines scattered around the facility. It's the same quality of coffee you would get in a restaurant, but at machine speed. A good double shot of espresso will set you back 40cents (about ZAR4) so it really is cheap. The vending machine not only dispenses espresso, but also "espresso lungo" (an extra splash of water), macchiatto, cappucino, cioccocino (cappucino with chocolate), and a range of teas (never tried them though).
On Saturday, my colleague flew back to the States and the snow storms they've been having in his area (just south of Lake Michigan) and left me to my own devices in Torino. In all honesty, I've been bored out of my fuckin' head for most of the time, but it's given me time to gather thoughts about a lot of things and, in my own way, meditate on a number of things going on in life which I'm not about to bore you with any more than I have already.
I managed to shoot over an hour and a half of footage on the DVDcam including some great shots of the Shroud of Turin, famous for supposedly being Jesus' burial shroud but which has been carbon-dated to somewhere in the middle ages. Still impressive to see it, though I suspect it's not the original that's in the church where it's housed in a glass frame. I believe the original shroud is in a vault somewhere in Rome. The church where the shroud is kept is totally nondescript from the outside and as my colleague told me he'd done, if you walked past the church you wouldn't be any the wiser as to what's in it. All the information brochures you get also tell you it's kept in the cathedral, a little away from where it actually is, so I don't know if they move it around to different locations or if the brochures tell lies. Anyway, I saw it, and that's what counts. I've read numerous books on the Knights Templar and it's mentioned in all of them as they suspect that the imprint is that of one of their hero leaders, Jacques de Mornay. If the carbon-dating is right, they might have a case for argument.
One nice thing about being here is that I can say to my family that they are all getting Italian Chrismas presents this year and I went to all the trouble and expense of flying over here just for them. Steph wanted "Prada ankle boots, but only if they're on sale" which was to be read as "Prada ankle boots, or don't bother coming home", but at 300 Euros I'll risk a bollocking for buying the 100 Euro pair which, in my mind, look exactly the same except for the missing expensive label. I was joking with another colleague that I'll buy a white marker and write Prada on the bottom of the boots, but I couldn't find a white marker. For Dad, I also bought a pair of Italian shoes and, as Mum said, "get him a pair of slippers cos these ones are about to walk off on their own", so I got him some new slippers too. For my brother, I bought a nice hip flask in a box set with four stainless steel thimbles in a leather pouch and a little funnel so that you don't spill your beverage of choice when trying to fill it. For my sister, I got a knitted cashmere scarf and two wonderful little ornamental ladybirds, each weighing about 100grams. She's going to have problems going home, as she's come out from Dublin to visit us in SA for Christmas and will probably have to pay excess baggage penalties. I already have Mum's present at home...it's from Dubai Duty Free and is a nice little digital camera so that she can finally get rid of her tatty old 35mm model (yes, she still has her photos developed at a shop). While I was in Saudi Dryland, I also got another little bottle of perfume for Steph which she can tote about in her handbag. I've even gone to the extent of slicing open the shoe boxes and stuffing them in the bottom of my suitcase so that Steph and Dad can have their shoes in the original Italian boxes.
Today, I went out around 10am and bought two Pannetone to enjoy over Christmas. For the uneducated, they are like big madeira cakes, traditionally stuffed full of raisins and currants and enjoyed over the holiday period. One of these that I bought though, is also filled with caramel and chocolate, so I'm looking forward to that. The other one is a traditional Pannetone which I might just give to Steph's aunt for being such a good friend to her as well as a relation. The difference in price was fuckin' astounding though...traditional Pannetone, 4 Euros...chocolate and caramel Pannetone, 30 fuckin' Euros!! It better be worth it...
I checked out of the hotel just before midday, as required, and then hung around in the lobby for two and a half hours before deciding to change my scenery and take an early taxi to the airport, where I am now typing up this posting. The taxi ride was interesting too. I was driven by some old geezer who thought he was Enzo Ferrari and he had us bumping along all sorts of old streets and for a while I thought he was going home for lunch first. I'm convinced he must have been a trucker earlier in life though, cos every time (and I mean every time) he changed gear, he double-clutched the car. Anyway, we soon got onto the highway and I realised I knew where I was, as we were retracing my steps of a couple of weeks ago. It's hard to believe that, when I get home tomorrow morning, I'll have been away for nineteen days. Time flies when you work for the Global Team.
I'll try and post this before we go down to my folks so that you lot have something to read to your families over your Christmas pudding and brandy sauce...
If I don't post anything before the 25th, I hope each and every one of you has a peaceful, joyous, Christmas in the spirit of the occasion, that you all get spoiled with some fantastic gifts, eat and drink your fill of turkey, roast potatoes and wine, and in turn, give some of the same cheer back to your friends and families. Going into the New Year, I hope your new year is filled with joy, abundance, family and relationships, friends, and all the things your heart might desire to make you happy.
As I always say in my Christmas cards, "May the best of this year be the worst of next year" to you all...keep well...
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Part1 of "I'm in Italy, no, I'm in Saudi, no, I'm back in Italy"...
Where do I start? The beginning's usually a good point, so I'll do that...
I left Shit Towne, en route to Torino, Italia, for the start of a three-week project initiation stint. This project, I've been told, is going to last between 4 and 6 months, so it looks like I'm going to miss most of the SA summer. At least I'll get some over the Xmas holiday break when we'll be going down to my folks for a few days.
The flight to Turin was via Frankfurt, ten and a half hours to there, literally right over the top of Turin. If they'd given me a parachute, it would have saved me the three hour wait in Frankfurt and the flight back to Turin. Fuckin' travel agents...probably don't know where Turin is...
Anyway, a reasonably short taxi ride into Turin and into the Hotel Diplomatic. It's smack in the centre of town, just off the main shopping drag. The room is sizable enough, with a double bed just for me and place to hang my stuff. The shower, on the other hand is not big enough for a cat, let alone space to swing it around in. If I stand with my back against the wal and extend my knee outwards, there's two inches from my knee to the wall. Small? It's so small I have to use only one arm to wash my hair cos I can't lift both arms at the same time for fear of getting my elbows stuck in the corners and having to pull the emergency rip-cord for maintenance to come and pry me out. Anyway, back to the story...
I don't sleep well in a strange bed on the first couple of nights so by the time the third night comes along, I'm knackered. On top of it all, I'm only in Turin for four nights then I'm off to Saudi Dryland again for a few days. The government there is going off on a two week holiday from the 12th December and CC, my host, wanted to get the presentation of the reports I did, out of the way before they all bugger off. It's not actually a holiday in Saudi, but with the Hajj happening there over that period, government literally comes to a standstill as thousands of people pour in for their pilgrimage. Being typically lazy, the Saudi's would rather get the hell out of Dodge while the people are around and take a few days to chill out.
On the Thursday afternoon, I take the train down to Milan for an overnight in the local Holiday Inn before flying out of Linate airport to Saudi. I figured I'd take a late afternoon train so that I could still see some of the countryside during the day, which is supposed to be worth it. Ha-fuckin'-ha!! The train leaves an hour and a quarter late, so by the time we get out of Turin it's pitch fuckin' dark outside and I can't see further than the road winding its way alongside the tracks. On top of it all, in Turin station I have an argument with an arrogant fuckin' train jockey. I see on the board that the train is going to be "30 minutes" late and go into the Information office to find out what platform it's supposed to be leaving from. Jockey tells me "no train, 30 minutes late" to which I say "I see that, but can you tell me which platform it's going to leave from?" to which he says "no train, 30 minutes late" to which I say "I see that, but can you tell me which platform it's going to leave from?"...you get the picture. Eventually, I point to the monitor in the office and ask "Which platform? Where is the platform column?" to which he takes me outside, points to the big board and says "No platform, 30 minutes late". At this, he mumbles something to some other Italians standing around, from which all I catch is the word "American". So I say to him, "Is the 'Binari' where the train leaves from?" and he says "Si, binari". I'm a little pissed off by now and I walk right next to him and say "Thanks, that's all I wanted to fuckin' know. And by the way, I'm not American, you little cunt, I'm a Scotsman!" and walk off into the crowd.
I wander around the station a while, all the while feeling the temperature dropping as evening closes in. Due to the marble and sandstone construction of the place, it's really getting cold for the jacket I have with me but there's not much I can do about it. The "binari" number comes up on the board and I make a dash for the relative warmth of the coach. The trip is uneventful, seeing as it's dark by the time we get out of Turin. In Milan Centro station, I get a taxi to take me to the Linate Holiday Inn and get checked in around 8pm. A quick dinner (half a dozen lamb chops and a small salad) and a 350ml bottle of Chianti to myself and it's time for bed. This time I doze off pretty quick and am amazed at how quick time flies before the alarm goes off at four fifteen for me to get showered and a taxi to the airport for my 7am flight.
The flight to Saudi is also via Frankfurt and the airport is absolutely massive. It could easily take 30mins to walk from one end of a terminal to the other, though it's not quite as big as Dubai. At least the flight to Saudi is direct from Frankfurt with no long stopover in Dubai. Lufthansa are one of the few airlines that are allowed to fly directly into Riyadh and their service is fantastic. Typical German efficiency, except for leaving a little late. The hostesses are friendly, ready to help or bring you whatever you need. All with a smile. Just the beer was a little disappointing...too sweet. But the cognac at the end of the lunch meal was a nice touch to end it off.
I'm in the usual Intercontinental Hotel in Riyadh and my driver, Siraj, gets me there with a smile this time, instead of his usual scowl even though I've had to drag him out of home on a virtual Sunday evening. The hotel has put me in one of their cabanas next to the pool and it's nice, though the floor is a little cold. The outside temperature is around 20deg and it's amazing how cold it feels compared to the 40-odd of just a month or so ago.
Into the office on Saturday (virtual Monday) morning, I meet with CC and we go through the presentation content. Aside from that, I'm left to my own devices and just potter about on my laptop, looking convincingly busy. I also meet with CC's boss, who is the sponsor from our side. He has a couple of suggestions for the presentation content which is fine by me, seeing as it's just cosmetic and which will make them look good to the client. The Saudi's are very political and easily offended by the way some words are put to them, so the cosmetic changes were all in the name of diplomacy. Me, I'm the worst diplomat in the world. If something needs said, I say it. I don't have the desire in me to butter things up just to make them sound nice. Call a spade a spade, I say...
On Sunday morning, I get into the client office early and meet up with Ahmed the Dead Terrorist to discuss some more changes he wants made to the document I produced for them. This akes us a couple of hours in the end, but it's fine as I'm not doing anything else and would probably just end up stressing before the presentation cos I'm not the most calm before such a meeting. The presentation is at 13h00 and was expected to go on for about 2hrs, pending questions from the client sponsor. In the end, we closed after just an hour, me having told them (in a nice enough way) that they have a lot of problems that they need to take care of to reduce the risks they face.
After the meeting, CC's boss decides to take us to lunch at the hotel I'm staying in, and I end up packing my stuff and checking out earlier than the expected 6pm. I went back to the compound with CC and, together with his wife, we went for a meal at the compound restaurant, before I got my drive back to the airport at 22h30. My flight was only at 1am, but the airport's always busy and it's good to get through customs early. And what a useless bunch of fuckers they are. I had checked my overnight bag into the hold on the way out of Frankfurt cos I managed to get it shrinkwrapped, but there's no such facility at Riyadh. As a result, I had to take my laptop and overnight bags on as hand luggage and, according to the aviation rules these days should not have been allowed to take my Swiss Army knife into the cabin with me. Needless to say, Riyadh the airport police didn't even blink an eyelid at it.
Not until I got to Zurich airport did I get some trouble. Not because of the knife though...this was Switzerland and they like Swiss Army knives there and let it go through when I explained that I had got it as a gift for my 40th birthday a few years ago. What they don't like though, is shampoo and shaving cream, both of which they confiscated, much to my exasperation. Strange rule...I can knife someone, but I'm not allowed to wash my hair or have a shave.
So I go through the customs check and wait around for a few minutes until the flight gate to Milan Malpensa airport opens. The flight leaves on time and the pilot gets a number of us to catch our breaths when he announces that the temperature in Milan is a sultry -5degC. I can't believe the temperature has dropped that much in only a couple of days but when we land, there's a layer of gravel and salt on the runway, and on those airplanes that had been on the runway all night, there's a thick layer of ice.
I wanted to see a bit of Milan, but I have only a hooded jumper and a few t-shirts with me as casual clothes and it's not enough to keep me warm in these temperatures. It appears I packed too lightly for my trip to Dryland.
To get to the central station in Milan for my train back to Turin, I have to take the Express train from the airport station. It's a trip of about 40mins and is quite pleasant cos the train is warm. It's one of the double-decker coaches and the view allows me to catch some of the bleak view on my new DVD video camera that I bought in Dryland as a pre-Xmas gift to myself. I'd thought about buying one on my last trip and now, seeing a couple of days of Italy, decided I'd better get one. Just taking still pictures back home is not enough to show Steph how nice a place Turin is and I can keep the DVD's for posterity. After the Express, I also have to take a short trip on the subway. Not an altogether pleasant experience. The subway is cold, smelly and full of bleak, disinterested looking people. I'm glad the trip is over quickly.
I take some footage of the outside of Milan station as the architecture is quite phenomenal, as is the architecture of both Italian cities I've seen so far. I can see this is one of the reasons Wreckless is proud of his Italian heritage. The other reason(s) I see for his pride, are the absolutely stunning Italian women. Only two other places have women as comparably beautiful, though I would venture to say they come a distant second to the Italian women.
I get quite cold, even in the sunshine, so I decide to forego the sightseeing trip in Milan and head straight back to Turin, thinking I might get some daylight footage afte the night trip of a few days ago. Not so...the fog has moved in due to the cold weather and the entire trip until 10 minutes outside of Turin (an hour and a half) is a grey blur. In places, you can look straight into the sun as the fog makes it look like nothing more than a white disc in the sky.
As with the trip down, the last ten minutes back into Turin is underground and totally boring, so I don't get any footage of that either.
A short walk back into the warmth of the Hotel Diplomatic, I get my stuff unpacked and have a refreshing, if cramped, shower. They've put me back in the same room with the tiny shower, even though I'd asked for a different room. Apparently, they would have had to charge me for a double room if I'd wanted a larger shower...go figure. Italians, by nature, are small people but I think even they would find this ridiculous...
Part 2 to follow as soon as I type it up...stay tuned...
I left Shit Towne, en route to Torino, Italia, for the start of a three-week project initiation stint. This project, I've been told, is going to last between 4 and 6 months, so it looks like I'm going to miss most of the SA summer. At least I'll get some over the Xmas holiday break when we'll be going down to my folks for a few days.
The flight to Turin was via Frankfurt, ten and a half hours to there, literally right over the top of Turin. If they'd given me a parachute, it would have saved me the three hour wait in Frankfurt and the flight back to Turin. Fuckin' travel agents...probably don't know where Turin is...
Anyway, a reasonably short taxi ride into Turin and into the Hotel Diplomatic. It's smack in the centre of town, just off the main shopping drag. The room is sizable enough, with a double bed just for me and place to hang my stuff. The shower, on the other hand is not big enough for a cat, let alone space to swing it around in. If I stand with my back against the wal and extend my knee outwards, there's two inches from my knee to the wall. Small? It's so small I have to use only one arm to wash my hair cos I can't lift both arms at the same time for fear of getting my elbows stuck in the corners and having to pull the emergency rip-cord for maintenance to come and pry me out. Anyway, back to the story...
I don't sleep well in a strange bed on the first couple of nights so by the time the third night comes along, I'm knackered. On top of it all, I'm only in Turin for four nights then I'm off to Saudi Dryland again for a few days. The government there is going off on a two week holiday from the 12th December and CC, my host, wanted to get the presentation of the reports I did, out of the way before they all bugger off. It's not actually a holiday in Saudi, but with the Hajj happening there over that period, government literally comes to a standstill as thousands of people pour in for their pilgrimage. Being typically lazy, the Saudi's would rather get the hell out of Dodge while the people are around and take a few days to chill out.
On the Thursday afternoon, I take the train down to Milan for an overnight in the local Holiday Inn before flying out of Linate airport to Saudi. I figured I'd take a late afternoon train so that I could still see some of the countryside during the day, which is supposed to be worth it. Ha-fuckin'-ha!! The train leaves an hour and a quarter late, so by the time we get out of Turin it's pitch fuckin' dark outside and I can't see further than the road winding its way alongside the tracks. On top of it all, in Turin station I have an argument with an arrogant fuckin' train jockey. I see on the board that the train is going to be "30 minutes" late and go into the Information office to find out what platform it's supposed to be leaving from. Jockey tells me "no train, 30 minutes late" to which I say "I see that, but can you tell me which platform it's going to leave from?" to which he says "no train, 30 minutes late" to which I say "I see that, but can you tell me which platform it's going to leave from?"...you get the picture. Eventually, I point to the monitor in the office and ask "Which platform? Where is the platform column?" to which he takes me outside, points to the big board and says "No platform, 30 minutes late". At this, he mumbles something to some other Italians standing around, from which all I catch is the word "American". So I say to him, "Is the 'Binari' where the train leaves from?" and he says "Si, binari". I'm a little pissed off by now and I walk right next to him and say "Thanks, that's all I wanted to fuckin' know. And by the way, I'm not American, you little cunt, I'm a Scotsman!" and walk off into the crowd.
I wander around the station a while, all the while feeling the temperature dropping as evening closes in. Due to the marble and sandstone construction of the place, it's really getting cold for the jacket I have with me but there's not much I can do about it. The "binari" number comes up on the board and I make a dash for the relative warmth of the coach. The trip is uneventful, seeing as it's dark by the time we get out of Turin. In Milan Centro station, I get a taxi to take me to the Linate Holiday Inn and get checked in around 8pm. A quick dinner (half a dozen lamb chops and a small salad) and a 350ml bottle of Chianti to myself and it's time for bed. This time I doze off pretty quick and am amazed at how quick time flies before the alarm goes off at four fifteen for me to get showered and a taxi to the airport for my 7am flight.
The flight to Saudi is also via Frankfurt and the airport is absolutely massive. It could easily take 30mins to walk from one end of a terminal to the other, though it's not quite as big as Dubai. At least the flight to Saudi is direct from Frankfurt with no long stopover in Dubai. Lufthansa are one of the few airlines that are allowed to fly directly into Riyadh and their service is fantastic. Typical German efficiency, except for leaving a little late. The hostesses are friendly, ready to help or bring you whatever you need. All with a smile. Just the beer was a little disappointing...too sweet. But the cognac at the end of the lunch meal was a nice touch to end it off.
I'm in the usual Intercontinental Hotel in Riyadh and my driver, Siraj, gets me there with a smile this time, instead of his usual scowl even though I've had to drag him out of home on a virtual Sunday evening. The hotel has put me in one of their cabanas next to the pool and it's nice, though the floor is a little cold. The outside temperature is around 20deg and it's amazing how cold it feels compared to the 40-odd of just a month or so ago.
Into the office on Saturday (virtual Monday) morning, I meet with CC and we go through the presentation content. Aside from that, I'm left to my own devices and just potter about on my laptop, looking convincingly busy. I also meet with CC's boss, who is the sponsor from our side. He has a couple of suggestions for the presentation content which is fine by me, seeing as it's just cosmetic and which will make them look good to the client. The Saudi's are very political and easily offended by the way some words are put to them, so the cosmetic changes were all in the name of diplomacy. Me, I'm the worst diplomat in the world. If something needs said, I say it. I don't have the desire in me to butter things up just to make them sound nice. Call a spade a spade, I say...
On Sunday morning, I get into the client office early and meet up with Ahmed the Dead Terrorist to discuss some more changes he wants made to the document I produced for them. This akes us a couple of hours in the end, but it's fine as I'm not doing anything else and would probably just end up stressing before the presentation cos I'm not the most calm before such a meeting. The presentation is at 13h00 and was expected to go on for about 2hrs, pending questions from the client sponsor. In the end, we closed after just an hour, me having told them (in a nice enough way) that they have a lot of problems that they need to take care of to reduce the risks they face.
After the meeting, CC's boss decides to take us to lunch at the hotel I'm staying in, and I end up packing my stuff and checking out earlier than the expected 6pm. I went back to the compound with CC and, together with his wife, we went for a meal at the compound restaurant, before I got my drive back to the airport at 22h30. My flight was only at 1am, but the airport's always busy and it's good to get through customs early. And what a useless bunch of fuckers they are. I had checked my overnight bag into the hold on the way out of Frankfurt cos I managed to get it shrinkwrapped, but there's no such facility at Riyadh. As a result, I had to take my laptop and overnight bags on as hand luggage and, according to the aviation rules these days should not have been allowed to take my Swiss Army knife into the cabin with me. Needless to say, Riyadh the airport police didn't even blink an eyelid at it.
Not until I got to Zurich airport did I get some trouble. Not because of the knife though...this was Switzerland and they like Swiss Army knives there and let it go through when I explained that I had got it as a gift for my 40th birthday a few years ago. What they don't like though, is shampoo and shaving cream, both of which they confiscated, much to my exasperation. Strange rule...I can knife someone, but I'm not allowed to wash my hair or have a shave.
So I go through the customs check and wait around for a few minutes until the flight gate to Milan Malpensa airport opens. The flight leaves on time and the pilot gets a number of us to catch our breaths when he announces that the temperature in Milan is a sultry -5degC. I can't believe the temperature has dropped that much in only a couple of days but when we land, there's a layer of gravel and salt on the runway, and on those airplanes that had been on the runway all night, there's a thick layer of ice.
I wanted to see a bit of Milan, but I have only a hooded jumper and a few t-shirts with me as casual clothes and it's not enough to keep me warm in these temperatures. It appears I packed too lightly for my trip to Dryland.
To get to the central station in Milan for my train back to Turin, I have to take the Express train from the airport station. It's a trip of about 40mins and is quite pleasant cos the train is warm. It's one of the double-decker coaches and the view allows me to catch some of the bleak view on my new DVD video camera that I bought in Dryland as a pre-Xmas gift to myself. I'd thought about buying one on my last trip and now, seeing a couple of days of Italy, decided I'd better get one. Just taking still pictures back home is not enough to show Steph how nice a place Turin is and I can keep the DVD's for posterity. After the Express, I also have to take a short trip on the subway. Not an altogether pleasant experience. The subway is cold, smelly and full of bleak, disinterested looking people. I'm glad the trip is over quickly.
I take some footage of the outside of Milan station as the architecture is quite phenomenal, as is the architecture of both Italian cities I've seen so far. I can see this is one of the reasons Wreckless is proud of his Italian heritage. The other reason(s) I see for his pride, are the absolutely stunning Italian women. Only two other places have women as comparably beautiful, though I would venture to say they come a distant second to the Italian women.
I get quite cold, even in the sunshine, so I decide to forego the sightseeing trip in Milan and head straight back to Turin, thinking I might get some daylight footage afte the night trip of a few days ago. Not so...the fog has moved in due to the cold weather and the entire trip until 10 minutes outside of Turin (an hour and a half) is a grey blur. In places, you can look straight into the sun as the fog makes it look like nothing more than a white disc in the sky.
As with the trip down, the last ten minutes back into Turin is underground and totally boring, so I don't get any footage of that either.
A short walk back into the warmth of the Hotel Diplomatic, I get my stuff unpacked and have a refreshing, if cramped, shower. They've put me back in the same room with the tiny shower, even though I'd asked for a different room. Apparently, they would have had to charge me for a double room if I'd wanted a larger shower...go figure. Italians, by nature, are small people but I think even they would find this ridiculous...
Part 2 to follow as soon as I type it up...stay tuned...
Friday, December 14, 2007
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)