I really wish I could say that we exhausted our credit cards in Milan, snuck into some celebrity clubs, ate out at the fanciest restaurant, got mistaken for models, you know, the usual. Unfortunately, a more apt title for this blog post might be "Clubbing till Sunrise" or "Did Someone say Party?" But I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities to use these OPI colours in the future. So for now, the money that I spent on hangover food will have to count as "charging it" in Milan. Brace yourself for another narrative about Italy.
The train from Vicenza to Milan was crowded. We had to sit next to two girls, who I originally thought were Italian. We sat in silence for over an hour, even though we quickly worked out that they were Australian, and they had deduced the same towards us.
It wasn’t until Amy got her Lonely Planet Greece book out and started speaking some very bad Greek that they spoke to us. It turned out that they had been looking for a conversation starter and the book was it –they came from a Greek heritage and had spent the last two months travelling around Greece.
That’s how we met the crazy Metaxas sisters from Melbourne – Tia, 18, and Elyse, 21. I think the bond was initially formed because Tia was the first person we had ever met that could speak as fast as Amy and I...maybe even faster. It transpired that they hadn’t booked accommodation yet so we invited them to come with us to our hotel to see if it had any vacancies.
As we were walking through the train station, we made another friend – Kevin, the ex-marine from LA (who wasn’t really into the food in Italy because he was “spoiled” with such good Italian restaurants in LA, and wanted to eat noodles instead. Uuhh, anyone see the lack of logic here? Americans). He asked us if we knew where any hostels were (picking us for the instant recognition of English) and seeing as we were taking the Metaxas girls along for the ride, we felt it wouldn’t hurt to bring another. Lucky Kevin, if we had been alone we would have shaken our heads and shuffled off quickly.
Our hotel was full but Kevin and the girls managed to get rooms at the one next door – we could lean out the windows and talk to each other...much cheaper than using international mobiles, and also very Portugese of us, as I have now learnt. We decided to go out for dinner and, after stopping at every shoe shop we passed to plan our purchases for the next day, made it to a pizza place. The more we drank, the rowdier we became. Actually, that's a lie. The more we talked to each other, the rowdier we became. Elyse and Tia were like our twins, the sum of our loudness and crassness combined was greater than our equal parts put together, if you know what I mean. The poor Italian couple sitting on the next table were hating us. But they were Milan snobs and anyway aren’t the Italians supposed to be loud? I think Kevin was a little shell-shocked though.
The train from Vicenza to Milan was crowded. We had to sit next to two girls, who I originally thought were Italian. We sat in silence for over an hour, even though we quickly worked out that they were Australian, and they had deduced the same towards us.
It wasn’t until Amy got her Lonely Planet Greece book out and started speaking some very bad Greek that they spoke to us. It turned out that they had been looking for a conversation starter and the book was it –they came from a Greek heritage and had spent the last two months travelling around Greece.
That’s how we met the crazy Metaxas sisters from Melbourne – Tia, 18, and Elyse, 21. I think the bond was initially formed because Tia was the first person we had ever met that could speak as fast as Amy and I...maybe even faster. It transpired that they hadn’t booked accommodation yet so we invited them to come with us to our hotel to see if it had any vacancies.
As we were walking through the train station, we made another friend – Kevin, the ex-marine from LA (who wasn’t really into the food in Italy because he was “spoiled” with such good Italian restaurants in LA, and wanted to eat noodles instead. Uuhh, anyone see the lack of logic here? Americans). He asked us if we knew where any hostels were (picking us for the instant recognition of English) and seeing as we were taking the Metaxas girls along for the ride, we felt it wouldn’t hurt to bring another. Lucky Kevin, if we had been alone we would have shaken our heads and shuffled off quickly.
Our hotel was full but Kevin and the girls managed to get rooms at the one next door – we could lean out the windows and talk to each other...much cheaper than using international mobiles, and also very Portugese of us, as I have now learnt. We decided to go out for dinner and, after stopping at every shoe shop we passed to plan our purchases for the next day, made it to a pizza place. The more we drank, the rowdier we became. Actually, that's a lie. The more we talked to each other, the rowdier we became. Elyse and Tia were like our twins, the sum of our loudness and crassness combined was greater than our equal parts put together, if you know what I mean. The poor Italian couple sitting on the next table were hating us. But they were Milan snobs and anyway aren’t the Italians supposed to be loud? I think Kevin was a little shell-shocked though.
We got harassed by these ugly American guys who used “let us guess your accents” as a (bad) pickup line. Apparently I was American. No one can get my nationality right on this side of the world. I’ve had Russian, English, American...but mostly I get Spanish. Spanish!?! I find that personally insulting for reasons I’m sure some of you can work out. This dark hair-do has had strange effects on the ambiguity of my nationality.
Anyway, back to the story. Once we got rid of the creeps (read, once Amy screamed at them for touching her. Well not really touching her...just the back of her chair. She’s an angry drunk.) we decided to find something else to entertain us. Of course none of us girls had any clue where we were or where to go. But Kevin, surprisingly, managed to navigate us on the metro to the Canal area, which is apparently popular. How, I don’t know. But he did carry around a compass, so that could be a clue.
Once we got off the metro, we were still a bit lost, so we followed some Italian boys. I got goaded into speaking to them, so I asked where they were going and if we could come along. (Oh my god – am I the female version of the ugly drunk guy who thinks it’s ok to talk to any girl?) As it turns out, once they turned around they weren't actually that attractive, but it was too late, once you talk to an Italian man they never leave you alone.
We ended up at a bar called “Old Camillo’s Pub” which didn’t actually look that exciting but we really needed a drink. After a bottle of wine, or two, we made friends with the waiters (I'm not sure how...I don’t really remember holding a conversation, just screaming out requests for Gaga). We stayed until close and then somehow managed to get the bar boys to agree to take us out to a club where we could dance.
The "Harp" - we managed to find a little bit of Wollongong everywhere we went, even if it was just discovering the bogan within us.
While they closed the bar we entertained ourselves by screaming out obscenities and realising that the Italian boys we had picked up on the way we actually quite creepy – “I want to fuck you passionately” seemed to be their favourite English phrase. So after we told them that the best pick-up line was “I want to fuck you like a kangaroo” Kevin took them aside and very kindly told them that we wanted to party with the bartenders and not them. Ha! So they retreated. But honestly, if you are going to wear Homer Simpson socks, what do you expect. (Although, I do distinctly remember Elyse telling the bartender 'I want to shave you and take photos of you' so it's a wonder we didn't get the brush off as well).
So the boys from the bar (whose names now escape me...) closed up while we got in their way trying to pour drinks and eventually we found ourselves in their cars. NOW I KNOW THIS IS VERY BAD AND PLEASE DON’T TELL MY FATHER. But they were our age, we had Kevin (ex-marine, with tickets to the gun show) and we were very, very drunk.
We drove around for about 45 minutes trying to find the club, the boys were lost, we kept requesting Gaga and Guetta (oh, how Europe has tainted my musical taste) and by the time we found it, it was closed. So we turned around, and drove the 45 min back to Old Camillo's bar, where the boys re-opened and started pouring us drinks. Amy learnt how the Italians do tequila shots - still with lemon and salt, but the lemon is licked off the neck of a member of the opposite sex. Of course.
At around 6am the bar boys drove us home. We all went up into Kevins room to eat cheese. I love Italy. I think the only reason that Amy and I were let up is because they thought Kevin "paid" for us...a speculation further confirmed by the fact that we were not allowed up again that afternoon due to legal reasons. By 7am we finally crawled back to our own hotel and went to bed...not the greatest idea when you have to check-out at 10am.
That afternoon was spent lunching with Tia, Elyse and Kevin in their hotel courtyard, where I made a special litte friend....
True love. Excuse the seedy hangover hair.
After our little late lunch we caught a plane to Santorini. So that was Milan...honestly I couldn't tell you anything else about the place. Ooops. But it was one of the best nights of my life, and we made some beautiful new friends, and isn't that all that matters?
x
Karen
PS. I'm flying to Exeter tomorrow and I haven't even finished my Italian posts, let alone started Greece, Paris, London and Portugal...oh dear, I am not good at this.
PPS. Elyse is a very talented lady who makes and sells her own clothes. I'm sure if you quoted "fucky fucky on the bici bici" it would earn you 10% off (don't hold me to that).
PPPS. I realise that Kevin isn't actually in any of the photos, but I swear he did exist and was not just a figment of my imagination.
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