The Adventures, Mishaps and Musings of Me

In the canteen of my University they serve up, everyday, four types of pizza, four types of pasta, a million types of panini and tubs of overpriced (yet delicious) salad.  Yesterday, on walking past the menu attached to the wall, I spotted that the "Pizza del Giorno" (pizza of the day) was the never before served "Americana". 

Mio Dio, I thought to myself, are the Italian's getting off their culinary high horse and serving American style pizza??  Going over to the pizza counter quickly answered that question in the negative.  The pizza the canteen had fondly named "Americana" was Italian style, thin based pizza simply with french fries (another question, why are they called french fries?) baked on top.

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American stereotypes of Europeans are often pretty absurd and silly.  The same is clearly true the other way around as well.  Seriously Italy, I've been to America twice, and however sugar and chemical filled their food may be, they at least have the good sense not to bake fries on top of a pizza.

Apparently, the Italians don't.

It's come to that point in October where Italy's extended summer abrubtly drops into a sudden cold autumn.  In other words, it has come to that point were I wish there was a radiator in my room. 

At least this means no more mosquitoes.

Rolling Stone has closed for good.  It is to be bulldozed and replaced by an office block.  This is tragic.

Utterly, utterly, utterly tragic. 

It was a sleaze pit like no other sleaze pit.    If you were under twenty five, it was the only place to be on a Saturday night.  It was the Temple of Rock in Milano.  There was no other night club like it.  The city of Milano, and my weekends, will never be the same without it.  It will be sorely missed.

RIP Rolling Stone:  Thank you for erroding my memory and liver all those Saturdays.  I will miss you.

So last night I really got in touch with my Milanese side and went to a big Vogue sponsored fashion show.  Basically an excuse for the big brand shops to sell clothes, shoes, belts, bags, etc. in an even more exclusive and expensive manner then they usually do.  And why was I involved in such an event? 

Free champagne!  Not to mention vino rosso and cheesy-crackery-thingys.  For free champagne I will happily look at any model wearing a leopard skin pudding bowl on her head.  After the third glass, heck, I'll even try one on.

And from the fashion show, we did not leave empty handed!  No, I didn't get a leopard skin pudding bowl, but instead five champagne flutes, two wine glasses and two cocktail glasses were pinched  salvaged for the good of pennyless studenthood.  For added class, we even carried them home on the tram at 1am in the morning.  Suffice to say, many a strange look was received, but hey, dormitory parties are going to be a little more sophisticated from now on. 

There are times and places where the tangy scent of sweat can be sexy as hell.

However, crampt on a hot, stuffy one hour bus journey from the airport is certainly not one of these occassions.  Alas, the demand for deodrant is rather low in Italia.

So tomorrow, I'm flying home to England for a few days before the July exams.  Amongst the many things on the family itenery, we're going to London to see "Waiting for Godot" with Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart.  *Fangirlish excitement*

It's about time I flee to England, because something very strange is currently taking place within Italy.  Something strange that I first noticed on the weekly shopping trip a few weeks ago: There were blond people in the supermarket.  Not just one blond person (that would be disconcerting enough) but many of them, in the pasta aisle, confusedly weighing fruit and clogging up the cheese counter.

"Very strange", I thought to myself as I waded my way through the masses.  More strange was that all the blond people carried a degree of sunburn, as if they had too much time on their hands to lay about in the sun.  At first I thought blond hair dye must have suddenly become Milan fashion and sun tan lotion out of fashion, but then, as I found myself in the queue for the checkout surrounded by non-Italian speakers, the dramatic and frightning truth hit me - They were all on holiday.

( The Dramatic and Frightning Truth Continued... )

I am absoloutly sickened by the European election results.

Really, if the party in power, masquerading as socialists, makes a complete mess of things, does the population (an unsettlingly large proportion of it) truely believe that the answer is extremist, down right racist, right wing politics?  Has 20th century history taught us nothing?

Apparently not.

Comparitively, in Italy, the exact opposite is taking place, but from a similar reasoning.  With Berlusconi venturing far into the right wing of political policy, left wing extremism is raising its equally ugly head, gathering supporters, and thus Milan is currently covered in "Vote Communist" posters.  Fabulous.

I went to a Sicillian style lunch party today, which meant we started cooking at 1pm, started eating at 2pm and didn't stop eating until after 4pm and now it's past 9pm and I'm still stuffed and unable to walk, only waddle.

Oh, Italian and student life, I love you. 

Horror of horrors, I went shoe shopping in Milan... and came back with a pair of 40 Euro, real leather ankle boots.  The price is excellent for the quality and the fact that this is, of course, Milano.  The clear sign of a good quality pair of shoes is that they have the size and "made in Italy" engraved, ornately on the bottom instead of with a sticker. I think Milan has slowly corrupted my stance on "fashion is evil". It's not evil, it's just silly.

I have to say, the choice of wearing my most trampy pair of converses (with rips) to go shoe shopping in was a bad idea. As this caused many a shop attendent to come and try and usher me and my Russian millionare friend (who was trying to buy a leather bag for Uni with a budget of 500 Euros, but still the 800 Euro bag was tempting) out of an annoyingly large amount of shops. In the shop I purchased the shoes from, I'd found a pair I liked and so put my conversed foot on one of the "sitting blocks" to undo the laces in order to try on the shop's shoes and the shop attendent comes over to tell me not to put my foot up on the block.  Charming.  Then she realises that we are actually serious in buying shoes and becomes suck up to a vomit inducing degree.  Saying how she adores The Beatles and Queen and how the shops best leather comes from Russia.  Uh huh.  She did not say anything when I put my foot back on the block to relace my converses.  Honestly, it is moments like these when I wish my Italian was better in order to be more smart ass to prissy shoe shop workers.

After such a tedious day of shopping, it is then, of course, most necessary to attend mad Russian drinking parties involving The Wickerman, Playstation 3 driving games at 3am in the morning and extortianate amounts of hair gel.

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And photos. 

To buy the cheapest pair of smart shoes possible that I will be allowed into the opera with! 

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In Milano, this is going to be tricky.

I love Milano and its random fashion/design/art exhibitions.  I love even more that at said fashion/design/art exhibitions free stuff is abundent!  Stickers, bags and caffine-overdose-coffee for the win!

Of course, such an afternoon could not be complete without being shouted at by an Italian woman who was most upset that I mistook her art for a sofa and procceded to sit down and put my grubby converses up on white leather.  Oops.  

Also, today I found out (theoretically) that it's an incredibly bad idea to mix spirits with caffine based drinks such as Red Bull.  Another oops.  A worse idea than even mixing a spirit with another spirit, apparently.  I can vouch for this.  Spirit + Red Bull = Hospital.

All LJ friends rush off to buy Red Bull and vodka.

In other news, I am totally excited for Saturday; I'm going to Torino/Turin to see the Italian musical of Notre-Dame de Paris!  I have two favourite books of all time and Notre-Dame de Paris is one of them, so the chance to get to see the musical (really famous in Italy and France) is utterly awesome beyond all sense and reason.

And will I be buying an overpriced programme all in Italiano with pretty pictures?  HELL YES!

Italian ladies who work in post offices are lovely.  They are the athesis to evil Italian cleaning ladies.  Sadly, they don't quite balance eachother out because I come into contact with Italian post office ladies perhaps once a month, where as cleaning ladies thrust their evil presence on me twice a week.  I think this is one of the little unfair-ities of life.

Above fact proven by fadagaski  staying with me in Milano over the weekend - she wasn't a social retard/stalker/otherwise freak!  She was fun!

( Fadagaski's and Jackk's Milanese Adventures... )

After this good "meeting people from the internet" experience, I am now open to giving tours to internet friends who happen to come to Milan for a weekend.  Just get yourself a room - the sneaky sleepover thing, though fun, was WAAAAAAAAAAYYYY too much hassle.
 

I had a bloody fantastic time at Rolling Stone last night, except for one thing.  My favourite black jacket was stolen!  Seriously, I must have been tempting fate with talking to fadagaski  about Milan's thief issues And what's even more annoying is that it had my detailed map of Milan in it, which has been my bible for the past two months.  RIP map *sniff* I will miss you.  I'll never forget all the times we shared together; planning nights out at the back of lectures; trying to figure out how the hell to get home at 3:00am in the morning in the middle of the street - you shall be dearly missed.

Luckily, I didn't have any valuables in the jacket, and I knew my way home without a map (After a Long Island Iced Tea and an Angelo Azzuro that's quite impressive :P).  But still, walking home at 5:00am in the morning, in November, wearing just a shirt wasn't much fun.  I bought hot breakfast (toasted brie and ham baguette thingy - yummy) and was able to hop on a bus to take me most of the way.  (One thing that is great about Milan is the cheap, always on time network of public transportation). 

The loss of my jacket and map aside, it was a great night - first night at Rolling Stone since my mid term exams - woot!

Friday night, I went to the cinema to see, of all things,  "Mamma Mia!"  For those of you who have seen this crazy, corny to the power of ten movie, imagine seeing it dubbed rather badly in Italian with the songs remaining in the original English, with Italian sub titles.  Little to say, it was priceless!  It wasn't my kind of movie at all (being more into dark, twisted films) yet I thoroughly enjoyed it and laughed heartily all the way through (the fact that I couldn't follow what was being said most of the time made no difference - if anything it probably enhanced the experience!).  All the Italians loved it, the whole cinema clapped along to the last two songs and then applauded at the end. 

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It would have been a fantastic weekend, if not for losing my flippin' jacket!!!!!

I think I'll go express my annoyance in the real world now.

In case any of you visit Italy, here are 20 tips to ensure your survival:

1.  Beware of mopeds.

2.  Beware of roads.

3.  Beware of middle aged Italian women who work in low level jobs. 

4.  Everyone who you expect to speak English won't and everyone you expect not to speak English will.

5.  Do not make eye contact with street vendors.

6.  I said DO NOT make eye contact with street vendors!!!

7.  When on the underground, guard your bag as if you were surrounded by a group of pick pocketing thieves.  You are.

8.  When being asked why you haven't got a ticket on the tram respond "Non parlo Italiano!".  Then run.

9.  Ice cream = ecstacy.

10.  Say goodbye to a few years of your life due to passive smoking.

11.  Italy is not in a state of permanant summer.  The postcards lie. 

12.  On Sunday mornings, the entire population of Italy disappears.  They will not return to serve you lunch.

13.  You WILL dance and you WILL NOT be drunk.

14.  If you ARE drunk, you will also be broke.

15.  Beware Italian men with goatees.  They grope.

16.  If you are in the north, be wary of the Mafia.  If you in the south, be afraid of the Mafia.  If you are in Sicilly... they are watching you!

17.  Pay for food first, then collect food.  Don't collect food, then pay.

18.  Go to bar.  Buy cocktail.  Shovel buffet food into mouth.

19.  Yes, the coffee cups are that small and, yes, the coffee does cost that much.

20.  Corruption.  Be disgusted by it, accept it, embrace it!

I have had such a fantastic weekend.  Really, really fantastic.

( Weekend Tales... )

As of today I have spent/survived 19 years on our beloved planet!  Woot!  I had my birthday party with my friends yesterday and had an awesome night out. Fifteen of us went to a Sushi buffet bar called "Wasabi" where we soaked up the plaesures of alcohol, conversation and raw fish.  From there we went to a club named Old Fashion to party untill 4:00am (the exact time I was born). 

The only thing that blighted the party was that I started developing cold/flu symptons at about 1am onwards and so now I have a really bad cold on my birthday >.<.  This morning I could hardly stand up from the mix of flu, tiredness and hangover.  Utterly bizzare and most definately painful. 

This evening, I'm flying home to jolly England to visit the family.  I'm gonna make sure I have the three highlights of English cuisine:  Fish and chips, roast beef and the English Breakfast.  Mmmm... as much I love pizza and pasta (which I have been living off of for the past four weeks) I have been missing my roast beef and yorkshire puddings on a Sunday.  And it's gonna be great to have my mummy cook for me again XD

Glastea, I'll be seeing you very shortly!  That is, if I manage to navigate my way to and through an Italian airport... best foot forward!

With student life!!

OK I'll give you a quick blast of news and (occasionally naughty) anecdotes concerning last week.  Let's see... on Monday I went out to a buffet bar that actually turned out to be a secret birthday party (I never understand why people want to keep their birthdays a secret - I've been telling people about mine ever since I got to Bocconi :P).  Food, drink and conversation - three of my favourite things! 

On the way home, at around midnight, I decided to take a short cut across a park to get to my dorm.  As I walked across, I suddenly became aware of this groaning sound coming to my right and I innocently turned to look to find... 0_0;  Let's just say I've now nicknamed that bush "The Sex Bush" and that it was most definately occupied Monday night.  Luckily, they were both pretty absorbed in what they were doing so either didn't notice me (or didn't care) as I scampered away to my dorm as quickly as possible.  I now give that bush a wide birth when walking home between the hours of midnight and two (the high time for prostitutes) as it has been occupied on... uh... several occasions- though after the first time, I now know not to try and look to see what is making the groaning noises.

On Tuesday, I used my genius to master the washing machines!  I was planning to take all my dirty clothes home with me for my Mum to wash, but I was running low on socks so matters had to be (successfully) taken into my own hands.

On Wednesday, I went to the club "Old Fashion" for an international student party and they were having an England themed buffet!  Fish and chips (though, not proper fish and chips - it was more like "fish fingers and fries"), roast beef (cooked in a totally Italian way - thin slices, very rare) and shepards pie.  I got all my friends who where with me that night (from Italy, Lithuania, Paraguay, China and some random country that I can never remember) to try Shepards pie (something I personally am not that fond of after been scarred over the years by having it way too often on a Wednesday courtesy of my Grandma) and my friend from China loved it!  So much that she went back for seconds :P

The following morning I was woken up (painfully) at nine o clock by the bloody cleaning lady who wanted to make my bed while I was in it.  Officially, cleaning ladies are evil. 

On Friday, I went out to another student party at another club called "Lime Light".  This night was noticable for being the first night that I tried the cocktail named "Angelo azzurro" (in English - "Blue Angel") - one of the strongest cocktails you can buy in Italy.  I'm not completely sure what it's made up of, but I've been told it's mainly a mix of vodka and tequila.  And, believe me, you have one of those and you seriously lose the feeling in your legs.  Plus, it makes the clubbing experience sooooo much better.  It sort of makes everything blur and you just go with it.  Become one with the crowd and the pumping music.  Fantastic.

After that night, I got back at around 6:00am to have great difficulty taking off my converses, which I'd stupidly done a double knot in.  It was a heck of a challenge and required all my concentration to untie them but, eventually after several (many) minutes, I conquered my pesky shoe laces!

Saturday was awesome.  I spent the whole of the day snoozing and eating the occasional cookie that where positioned wonderfully in reach on my bed side shelf.  At 6 o clock (still in bed) I started phoning people to go to a club recommended by my Finnish friend called "Rolling Stones".  After eating dinner at Bocconi (the canteen stays open untill 9:00pm and sereves tastier dishes for two Euros then you can buy (for 10 pounds) in English restaurants.  We set off to what I vote as the best club I've been to so far. 

Firstly, it is a hell of a lot classier then some of the grungy pits I've been to in the past few weeks.  And secondly, it has two dance floors - one for R & B, techno, house etc. and another for Rock, which is more like a mosh pit - awesome!  And you get two free drinks on entrance (some clubs only give you one) and when drinks normally cost 10 Euros, you really start to value your free drink tokens.  Espicially since I have a principle of not letting Italian guys buy me drinks - mainly, because I don't want to "lead them on" so to speak. 

Speaking of Italian guys... (after a moments reflection on whether to include this or not, I've decided it's just too hilarious not to include!).  I was dancing with an Italian guy (he had a goatee, once again proving the facial hair rule) and, by nature, Italian guys are rather... er... saucy on the dance floor (in Italy you don't go to a club to drink, as in say England/Northen Europe, you go to dance).  After a while he started to kiss me (rather tonguingly) on the cheek and neck.  Slightly taken aback, irratated and amused by this, all at once, I...

Blew a huge raspberry on his face!

His look of surprise was priceless!

Oh, yeah, my course.  I'm lovin' it!  Although, seven maths lectures in a week is a bit much.

OK, it's the morning after my first "clubbing" experience in Milan and it was bloody fantastic!  At Bocconi, they where handing out "free drink" vouchers for Thursday night at the club "Shocking" and, with only a maths lecture in the afternoon on Friday, me and some friends decided to make use of them.  In our heads we thought it was gonna be some kind of student party - we were so, so, so wrong!

( Milan Awesome-ness Continued... )

Believe the hype - University is amazing!!