Arrivederci e tanto amore, Milano – My Milan Journey #5

You never get used to packing all of your possessions into a bag, whether it’s leaving for university or preparing for the end of your holiday. There’s always that period of reflection and the uncertainty of what will happen next, life experiences are much like the world we live in:

It’s big, and it’s just waiting there for you to discover it.

There’s one song that’s been played over and over again in my room and of course I’m playing it on repeat as I get dried and pack up all of my dirty clothes into my bag. I can’t find a more fitting song than Tage Wie Diese by Die Toten Hosen at this point, I’d love it to be an Italian band but I don’t know any, let alone any Italian songs about living for the moment and all that.

I cannot leave without expressing my love and gratitude to the hotel staff, they were awesome and respectful. I also cannot leave without expressing my love and gratitude to the folk at Bar Gluck, as they too were very awesome and respectful.

There are other cities on my bucket list, but when I next visit Milan I will return to this area.
Centrale Station is about an hour away on the train from Malpensa Airport, and I don’t trust Italian traffic in the morning, so I opt for the slightly more expensive train journey to the airport. There is something about a train journey, when it’s not rammed with angry and sweaty people, that just allows for reflection.

I put the Stadium Arcadium album on and just enjoy the journey.

I get the airport really early, which means that I have a lot of time to burn before check in. Some of it is spent in McDonald’s, some of it is spent watching planes land and take off. I discover a new found serenity in just watching planes take off and land, there’s probably some post-9/11 philosophy to it but at the moment I can’t quite describe it.

I don’t clap when planes land though. I’m surprised that’s even a thing.


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My Malpensa check-in was a lot smoother than my Manchester check in, although the toilets aren’t nearly as clean. Again it’s a standard airport anecdote really, I get rid of my last remaining Euros on a vending machine and just wait. Wait and reflect.

The flight was a bit bumpier going back to Manchester than it was leaving it, but I got some pictures of the Alps on my way back and just tried to get through the flight with as little movement as possible. I hate flying. We land in Manchester and there’s a delay in getting the stairs to the plane, so we’re stuck on the plane for about 15 minutes. My train home from Piccadilly station was also delayed, but this worked to my advantage.

The welcome sign in Manchester may as well say something like: “You won’t get anywhere on time”

I get home later than expected and can’t wait to get to bed. I’ve had fun in Milan, I’ve enjoyed Milan and learned to love Milan. As I’m sat in bed with my feet up there are a few thoughts going through my head:

Back to the complaints department, back to thinking about that girl I really like and back to shitty public transport. Oh, and there’s still that issue of depression which won’t seem to go away.

The main, burning thought however is this:

I wouldn’t have just survived Berlin, I would have thrived in Berlin.

For now though, I have survived Italy and now I need to re-adjust to some kind of normality. I’m not planning my next holiday as I think that would be a dangerous mindset for me to be in. I openly express my dislike for Manchester on a regular basis, but for now I’m stuck with it and need to find some positivity in it.

Milan was never going to break me, but Manchester just might.

For now though, I want sleep as I’m going straight into an 8-4 shift and I will have some angry customers to deal with instantly. I will always have fond memories of Italy though, from Bar Gluck to the San Siro, and I will always be grateful to the Italian people for that. To quote the great Pearl Jam:

The love he receives is the love that is saved.

Arrivederci e tanto amore, Milano.

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