Now, if I ever find myself venturing to Europe, I do my very best to make a stop to visit my Danish family. During this trip, though, in order to see my whole family, I had to make two stops! Sara was spending the summer on the Greek islands of Rodos, but there were no non-stop flights between there and Porto. One common layover was in Milan, so I decided to make it a proper stopover, instead.

More than once during my travels, I’ve planned a stop in a place that everyone feels the need to tell me is undesirable. The place is boring or dirty or sketchy, etc. The thing is, by this point, I’m already going to this place, so the only thing someone is going to accomplish by raining on my parade is to make me unhappy!

It seemed practically everyone felt it was important to tell me that Milan was boring and the only thing worth seeing was the Duomo. This ended up putting me in a terrible mood upon arrival. I’d just left one of the most gorgeous and charming cities I’d ever visited, and now here I was, stuck in the Most Boring City in Italy. I was so sulky that I booked the earliest train ride possible out of town the next morning so that I could spend my second day in the small city I’d be flying out of.

I then dinked around a bit in my hostel before deciding to get it over with and see what little there was to see.

People can be so annoying! Within five minutes of stepping outside, I was in love.

The architecture was astounding. So many different shapes and colors were built into the museums, churches, and shopping malls. It was eye candy all over!

I happened across the natural history museum and popped in for a look, only to be greeted by my favorite – a whale skeleton!

Be prepared to be freaked out – apparently whales have fingers???

Crazy! Equally crazy (and slightly more terrifying) is this ginormous, ancient armadillo thing. (Normal armadillo for scale.) This thing was the size of a small car.

I was in such a good mood that I treated myself with some gelato.

Why is gelato not prolific and cheap and served by adorable Italian boys in Seattle?! Huh? I want answers!

Gelato in hand, I eventually made my way to the Duomo to see what all the fuss was about.

I get it, man.

This was not a structure to be scoffed at. This was a structure to marvel for hours on end.

The square in front of the Duomo was teeming with people and pigeons. Some of the people were even baiting the pigeons to land on their arms for photos. Cray.

Visitors were actually allowed to summit the Duomo, but I told myself I didn’t need the extra expense, so I explored the massive interior for a while.

That resolution lasted all of about twenty minutes, and before I knew it, I was high in the sky.

SO beautiful! The flying buttresses made for such amazing decoration to the views around us. Honestly, the close-up statues and detail on the roof was so much more awe-inspiring than what we could see down below, though that was lovely, too.

There was no time limit, so I stayed among the buttresses and sunset for close to an hour, walking back and forth, round and round, exploring all the nooks and crannies I could find. So magical!

By this point, I was thoroughly frustrated with those silly people who had warned me against the bores of this beautiful city. When I finally descended back to the square, I continued my wanderings to one of the large, covered shopping malls.

I certainly didn’t go into any stores, as they were all insane brands I can never imagined owning – Dolce and Gabanna, Versace, Louis Vuitton, etc. Every store was nearly empty, save for a couple men in dashing suits and a couple women in identical, tailored dresses who stood at the ready to follow around any customer who dared enter. Supposedly that is a desirable thing, but it just seems downright terrifying to me.

At one point, I came across a protest march of some sort. Wary of any complications, I kept trying to keep my distance and outrun them, but they kept cutting me off at the next block! Very confusing. As the sun began to really dip below the horizon, I made my way back toward my hostel and found a nearly-empty restaurant to pop down for a proper meal.

I ordered a creamy (creamy, creamy, dreamy) carbonara that came with a side salad. I was going to just drink water, but it cost two euros, and wine was only three, so wine it was!!! I was a bit aghast when the waiter brought out a little pitcher for me (I believe it was a quarter liter!), and my eyes bugged out enough to make him chuckle a bit. I didn’t come close to finishing the wine, but I finished most of the dinner and sent plenty of tipsy texts back home. Such a wonderful solo dinner date.

Still kicking myself a bit for planning to leave the city first thing the next day, I tucked into bed around ten and called it a night.

In the wee hours of the morning, though, I was awoken by a male voice saying, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Hey….”

“…Hey.”

….

After the umpth “Hey,” I finally determined that the “Heys” were directed at me, given that nobody else was responding. I warily cracked my eyelids and was met with an image of a young man leaning against the wall across from my lower bunk.

“….Hi…” I croaked sleepily.

The young man then explained to me that he had spent his night trying to go clubbing, but in Milan, clubs do not let in single men – only couples or women. (I later determined that this was a lie.)

I let the dude know that this was interesting. He responded with, “So, do you want to go clubbing?”

Keep in mind that I was still mostly asleep at this point. I informed my new friend that I, in fact, was sleeping, due to the fact that I had a very early morning ahead of me.

He accepted this response and smoothly segued into the standard traveler dialogue – Where are you from? Where are you going? Where have you been? What do you do? etc. This would have been all fine and dandy if this guy had not just WOKEN ME UP WITH A DOZEN “HEY”S AT ONE IN THE MORNING.

But he had. So it was weird. At some point, he told me an abbreviated version of his life story – he was a young Egyptian guy and had just finished travelling around Switzerland. He took this opportunity to sit on my bed, on my feet, so that I had to curl my legs into myself to avoid being squashed, and then he proceeded to show me pictures from his trip. They were nice pictures. Switzerland is pretty.

Switzerland is less pretty at one in the morning when a strange Egyptian boy is sitting on your feet.

Finally determining I had had enough of his shenanigans, I told the boy that I really did need to go back to sleep. He said fine, but how about a hug goodnight? Again, I was confused and tired, so I feebly accepted this weird middle-of-the-night-on-my-lower-bunk hug.

Things escalated when this dude wrapped me up into one of the most tender embraces I have ever experienced. I then became acutely aware of the fact that I was not wearing a bra, and I’m sure Egyptian Man noticed the same thing. Once this realization hit, I did my best to extricate myself from the hug, which literally necessitated that I peel this boy off of me. I then told him I was going to sleep and that he should go, at which point I laid back down to make my point clear.

He wasn’t finished, though. “Wai-wai–wait-wai-wait,” he said. “One more thing.”

I sighed. “What is it?”

He paused and smiled, “I am wondering… can we sleep while hugging?”

I was done. “Nope! No, no, no,” I was shaking my head and literally shoo-ing him off of my bed while he shook his head for a different reason and put his hands up in what I’m sure was supposed to be a calming gesture.

“No no no,” he said. “It is just hugging.”

“Nope!,” I said again. I informed him that I had a boyfriend who would not appreciate that one bit, and I told him he needed to go.

THANKFULLY, at that very moment, the other two girls in our four-bed mixed room came back from their late night shopping spree, saving me from I-don’t-know-what. The boy finally admitted defeat and retreated to his own bottom bunk on the other side of the metal wall between our beds.

Why do people do the things they do?

Believe it or not, I did manage to get some decent sleep after that, and when I woke a few hours later, I hit the road once again and boarded a train to Bergamo.

It was basically love at first sight. The area surrounding the train station is the modern city, lined with quiet streets and normal small-town buildings at this early hour.

Up ahead, though, was a little hill, and perched atop this hill was the old walled city. I made my way over and up in the cool morning.

I know I just called it a little hill, but it was really a decent climb, and by the time I reached the top, the sun was shining down on the fields and modern city below. It was so magical!

I was surprised and delighted to find that, for no good reason whatsoever, a small zipline was being operated at the top of the hill, spanning the distance from one turn in the winding road to the other. Zipliners flew suspended over the fields with the modern city sprawled below and the old city shining above. I had to do it.

It was quick, cute, and thrilling. Made me wish I had a GoPro, because they wouldn’t let me hold my camera while ziplining!

I was surprised to find that within the old city walls, the town was teeming with life and visitors. It was such an unexpected contrast to the sleepy modern city I’d been in just an hour or two before. I celebrated with another gelato.

The architecture in the old city, especially Bergamo Cathedral, was magnificent – so extravagant and glorious for such a small city.

Thoroughly enchanted by the quiet bustle of the town, I tucked into a little botanical garden and enjoyed the views and quiet.

Too soon, though, it was time to take a slow, winding bus back down to the train station, and then to the airport once again. Stay tuned for more on this adventure, but after a round of present-day blogs!

Until then,

Venlig hilsen/ ciao,
-Lizzy-wa