The Last Week in Europe

Sorry it’s been a while everyone, but here’s how the story continues…

Friday, September 8th, was a fairly relaxed day of sight-seeing in the country, and driving down a really windy one-lane with my uncle until we arrived at my cousin’s new house where he and my godfather were working the garage. I helped out a bit, but before I knew it, we were on the road again, back to Erding.

When we got back, one of my other cousins and her boyfriend greeted us at the door. They had made the trip up just to see me. The three of us sat down, and ended up talking about everything that had happened to us in the last 5 years or so. It was great. My cousin hasn’t changed a bit.



The next day, the three of us took a trip down to Munich for some errands and tour a museum. We also happened upon the main street that the Pope would soon be coming down that day. Or so it looked liked, because of the mass of people lining the street. Sure enough, he came, and I was ready with my camera standing on one of the street lamps that I was told not to stand on by the Polizi. My cousin and her boyfriend left shortly thereafter, but I decided to stay behind a while to ‘chill’. Bad move. The Polizi decided that because the pope was now in town, they had to block off every convenient access to the subway. Then, as I guess I so often do, I used the situation as an opportunity to get to know some strangers who were also stuck. When I got back, my godfather and cousin showed the rest of us slides about their trip to Armenia (part of the former USSR) earlier this summer, but because of early plans the next day to attend the Pope’s mass, we called it a night after that.

The trip to the Pope’s mass was an interesting experience itself. For security reasons, among other things, the mass would take place in a large open space on the outskirts of Munich where we would have to walk a good 3km from the nearest subway station to get to it. Even the Autobahns (highways) around the area were closed off. Inside the area there were all sorts of free memorabilia for the event including: bottled “Papswasser”, or “Pope Water” as my relatives called the official water sponsor. The actual mass however, was like no other I had ever seen before. Of course the number of people there had something to do with it (the paper said close to 500,000), but the choir music and the message given about faith and actions were pretty powerful in their own right. I met some very young devout Catholics there who were filled with so much anticipation before and calm after the event, that I couldn’t help but smile (not like I ever can’t).

When we got back to Erding, I only had a few hours until I had to go back into Munich to catch the late train bound for Milan. So to use my time wisely, apart from spending time with my relatives, I decided that I wanted to bike around Erding one last time. Just myself. I asked my godfather, and after twenty-some pictures, an Eis in the local square, and a ride through the park, I made it back.

I was ready to pack and say my goodbyes, but my godfather wouldn’t let me go that easily. He wanted to tell me the names of everything I had taken pictures of. So he told me, and I wrote it all down. Something I said though made him take out a CD I had given him 5 years ago, and he asked me to perform one of the songs on it in front of my relatives. Talk about pressure! I ended up singing a song from my first year in the university choir called “Sing Me to Heaven”.

That song means so much to me, I swear I almost cried.

That night, I was on the 20:55 train bound for Milan. Before departing, two girls from Ireland got on and looked a bit frantic. They explained to me that they had met a guy in the hostel where they stayed the night before, who wanted to tag along for a trip to Italy with them, but apparently got lost somewhere along the way. I spent some time with them and learned pretty quickly that they were two of the most spontaneous, type-7-on-the-Enngram-test people I had ever met. We got along pretty well.

Eventually, we all got some sleep, but I awoke to the breaking of daylight in the Alps and soon thereafter could hear the musical pattern of the Italian language. We had arrived at the boarder crossing in Chiasso, Italy.



The Italian countryside was pretty much just as I remembered it from years past. Gently rolling hills, lush greenery, and small groups of houses colored in different shades of yellow and brown with red roofs. In another life, I am there working the fields and singing an Italian tune.

I knew that this trip to Italy would be fairly different from the rest of my journey, because I’d be doing a lot of traveling in a short amount of time (I was only planning on leaving Italy on the 14th. I arrived on the 11th) and not having one set place to stay, but I guess I didn’t realize how much slower things really do go when you’re carrying around a suitcase, two carry-on bags, and a trenchcoat (my dad’s idea) with you.

In Milan, once I made it to what I thought was the Polytechnic building by streetcar, I was surprised to find out that it was only a subway station. After a little panicing, I was pleasantly surprised. Up the escalator in the train station, came none other than Ezio Manzini himself! I recognized him right away, although he didn’t remember me. We both were heading for the actual Polytechnic, so we walked together until he hurried on ahead of me. I figure I either scared him with my news that I’d be flying to China in a few days, or he just simply didn’t want to be late for his meeting (of which he would be if he waited for me and my luggage). So he left, even before I could take a picture with him. Oh well. That was the last I saw of him.

I made it to the right building a little while later, and was actually early for my meeting with some of the other senior designers there. When we did meet, we exchanged a few thoughts on the topic of design and talked about different projects related to it. Somehow, they got the impression that I wanted to enroll there, and said that even though it was very late, I could still get in, depending on how well I did on the entrance exam. So I said I’d take it. Why not? Who wouldn’t want to come to Italy to write a 4 hour exam, unprepared? I said I needed to find a place to stay first though, and asked them to book a hostel for me (for a reduced rate). Once that was finished, and I had gotten talking with one of the students who had just finished her master’s program there, the two of us went for lunch. I learned a lot from her, and decided that a master’s in design is definitely not for me.

We returned, I wrote the test (4+ hours) nevertheless, and then left to my hostel, luggage and all. It didn’t help that the hostel was all the way back where the train station was, or that the streets were especially cobbled (can I say that?), but I made it. Sweat and all.

I had a quick shower and went to the nearest restaurant to eat. There I met a Swedish guy who told me all about his Europe trip, and we spent the rest of the night talking about a whole host of topics from philosophy to women, as we had some gelati (ice cream).



Tuesday, I got out of my bed in Milan about an hour later than I had planned to, and decided to climb outside my window, onto a roof top and take some pictures from there. Needless to say, I didn’t end up meeting the Swedish guy I had meet the night before. I did however give into an offering of cappuccino for breakfast. It felt strange, considering that I almost never drink coffee.

From there, I left for Milano Centrale, to catch a train to Modena, where I was hoping to see the Ferrari museum. On my walk there, I took as many pictures of the streetscape as I thought would turn out half decent, only because Milan had turned out to be less picturesque then I had thought. Once I bought my ticket to Modena, I had an hour to kill, so I just sort of ‘took it all in’ in the piazza (square) in the front.

Taking it all in included: witnessing the polizia harshly question some Kurds (who apparently didn’t understand either Italian or English) on the same sitting-block as me (they were eventually taken away); watching the longest line of people waiting for taxis I have ever seen; conversing with a guy from Senegal in Italian, French and English.

I got on my train around 11am, sitting next to two Italian women and sitting across from an Italian and Chinese guy. (As a side note, I’d just like to say how so far, on this trip, I’ve been noticing a lot of things that have been foreshadowing things I am planning to see or do. For instance, when I was in Munich last weekend, I ate in an Italian restaurant and seemed to hear a lot of Italian being spoken around me. When I got to Milan, I kept seeing a lot of Chinese people. Weird isn’t it?). The Chinese guy didn’t really talk, but I managed to get along quite well with the Italians as they helped me with my Italian. Once I arrived in Modena, I almost didn’t want to leave because I felt like I was just getting to know them.

Now, I had two choices once I left the train platform: either exit north or south. The north exit was farther away, and considering I was carrying all my luggage with me, it didn’t seem like it was the best choice. But like so many times before, almost as if I purposely choose the more difficult path, I chose it. Naturally, it didn’t really lead me to anywhere I wanted to go, but to a closed pizzeria (on a Tuesday!) and an older guy standing outside of it (who sort of looked like he might have been waiting for something or someone, but not necessarily, more just like ‘chillin’ I guess), who just laughed at me when I asked him how to get to the Ferrari Museum. He told me I had to exit on the other side of the train station and then take a bus into another smaller town called Marenello (I actually did know about Marenello before hand, but was sort of hoping there might be something in Modena as well). So, I went back the way I came, stopped to take a picture of an example of a ‘hole in the ground’ toilet (Italy is reminding me more of India), ate at a little café close by, and then took a bus (with a missed stop in between, that would cost me more than another hour of time) from there to Marenello.

Once I arrived, I quickly went to a souvenir shop to ask them what time they and the museum would close, bought a Ferrari shirt, took some pictures and was off to the museum. Before getting there, I got to see a whole line of young Ferrari racecar drivers and testers come out of the factory heading towards the museum and racetrack. It was pretty cool.



The museum was smaller than I thought it would be, with not a lot of stuff to read, but that actually made it that much more interesting for me. I had some dinner in the Ferrari cafeteria, and made my way back to the bus stop. Me being me, I thought that since I was thinking about making it to Pisa the same night, I could catch a bus in the same direction I came from, make it to the next major city (Bologna), catch the train there, and save some time in the process, seeing how going to Modena only meant going backwards. As I waited for the bus, only after I watched the bus to Modena pass by, did I think to ask another guy waiting for the bus if my idea was any good (to go to Bologna instead of Modena). He said no, and I found myself waiting yet another hour or so for the last bus to Modena. During that time, I contemplated on the day, questioning why it went the way it did. Everything I did, seeming to be late. Once I did get on the bus though, my thoughts changed, and the relatively empty bus greeted me with a really nice Italian love song. I could only make out parts of it, but it was really touching. Once it ended, I was determined to find out the name of the song, and ended up having a girl from across the aisle, who had just got on, tell me. That’s when my plans for the night changed.

I know. You can stop now.

She actually didn’t know the name of the song I was asking about, but naturally, our conversation didn’t end there. I found out that she was Romanian, but had been living in Italy for almost 3 years with her family. She didn’t know a lot of English, but was impressed with my Italian. I told her I was impressed with her English, among other things.

Yeah, ok now.

I told her about my plans to go to Pisa, and she told me that she thought it was too dangerous to go there by myself with no plan on where to stay, and eventually helped me get a place at a hotel in Modena. It was pretty expensive, but I appreciated the help. We parted ways from there, and I started to get acquainted with the 3 star hotel life. There’s a lot of stuff I guess I didn’t know about hotels, since I usually stay in hostels or other people’s homes. Like for instance, did you know that in some hotels the light switches don’t turn on the lights? Figure that one out.

The next morning, thinking that breakfast was being served on the fifth floor (of which there was none), I managed to find the exit to the hotel’s roof, and took in the view of the city. I made it into Rome before lunch. (I decided at this point that I would skip seeing Pisa and a lot of other things, so I could spend more than a night in Rome, considering I was flying out the next day). I got to a hostel (owned by an Indian family oddly enough) with relative ease and upon exiting to go do my thing in Rome, I came across a stray American traveler who had also been looking for a hostel. I took her to the place where I was staying and from there we left to go see Rome together. It was great to have someone to see it with.



We saw the Santa Maria Maggiore cathedral, the Coliseum, the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps and a lot of Roman ruins. It brought back a lot of memories for me. There was so much more to see, but not enough time. We went back to the hostel to get our things together for our trips out of Rome, and later that evening, the two of us and her new roommate from Mexico spent some time just walking around and eating gelati. I almost convinced them both to come out salsa dancing in a place we had found out about, but we agreed that it was too far away and too late to make it worth the while. Nevertheless, we had a good time.



The next day/night I was on my very long flight to Shanghai. I stopped for an hour or so in Vienna on the way and sat next to a really helpful guy from Shanghai for which I owe a lot to for easing my fears and answering my questions the rest of the way.