in and out in a flash.
milan. it was a long drive, and unfortunately the landscape was more than a bit difficult to take in at 150kph on winding roads and through tunnels, but it was still nice regardless. we didn't make it to cinque terre as planned, but we did stop at a mcdonald's along the highway from genoa to milan that sold box sets of what i can only guess to be bootlegged not-so-greatest-and likely-"life" hits from the likes of bob marley, jimi hendrix, frank sinatra, ella fitzgerald, and countless other stars of the past. i'm going to hazard a guess here and say that they probably never saw much in the way of royalties from those releases.
upon arriving in milan, we had one mission: find our way through the city to the town of monza. in any other europeancity we might have stood a chance, but we weren't in any other city. we were in milan, city of spiteful roadway infrastructure. the first amazing thing i noticed in driving through the city was the complete lack of sensible road-marking. sometimes there would be sign indicating a turn in the right direction (to the airport for example), and sometimes there wouldn't. now believe it or not, this makes it pretty effing difficult to find anything around the city if you've never been there before. hell, it would probably still be a pain in the ass even if you lived there. the second thing that i noticed about milan's traffic was that if you're on a scooter, you're quite apparently above the law. seriously. you can run red lights, drive on sidewalks at full road speed, drive on roads at sidewalk speed, squeeze your way through traffic in order to run red lights, you don't have to wear a helmet, you're apparently expected to send and receive at least one cell phone call per scooter outing (you don't stop to answer the phone, you just ride with one hand. you don't signal or use the brakes anyway, so it's kind of inconsequential), and when turning you don't shoulder check, you just kind of cut off whoever is behind and/or beside you and launch onto the nearest sidestreet while maxing the throttle on your shitty vespa. that's the key, kids: come in hot. gotta come in hot. now the third thing that dawned on me should have probably been the very first, but for some reason it really snuck up on me. they don't have lanes on the roads in milan. on the sidestreets you'd expect this, but when there is traffic running 5 cars wide through the shit-show that is milan, you'd expect some sort of guidance. the case, though, is to the contrary. if you want to exit a roundabout, you just go, even if you're on the very inside and there are 3 cars worth of traffic to your outside. you'll get honked at, you'll have fists shaken at you, and you'll be cussed out in italian, but that's just how it is. i can't stress enough how ridiculous it was driving in that city. our battle to simply get the hell out of town lasted something like 2 hours. and milan isn't a very big place. the fact that the street system runs in concentric circles centred on the middle of town doesn't help either, nor does the fact that one cirle will be comprised roads of some 2 dozen or more street names.
but i'm sure that in the daytime, on foot, milan isn't so ridiculous.
but then, maybe i'm wrong.
we arrived in monza, rented our parking space, and shut it down for the night. drifting in and out of sleep throughout the wildest electrical storm i've ever witnessed, we rested until the day broke on sunday.
the italian grand prix at monza. we've been through all of this before, so suffice it to say that the race was deafening, crowded, expensive, and something that i'd fully recommend to anyone i know.
on our way north we discovered that the italians not only put up with, but in fact love creating a mess of traffic. they selectively shut down several of the highways leading away from monza, forcing everyone in to a rather long detour through the outskirts of the town. it was fun. and by fun i mean retarded. but we found a pair of cars with swiss license plates, and set off, hot on their trail to (what we hoped was)...
switzerland. the only place aside from monaco where the streets are paved with diamonds. not really, but it looks that way at night. and let's face it, they have enough money to do something frivolous like that if they really wanted. let it be known that chocolate milk in switzerland is really good. they have the cows and the chocolate, and when they mix them up, oh, boy! hey, mouth, it's party time. the scenery was absolutely amazing, and when i go back to europe again, switzerland will definitely be a proper stop on the itinerary. this time we were on a schedule, though, so instead, after several hours too many of driving thanks to the stop-and-go traffic characteristic of sunday evenings in switzerland, we were home once again, in the land of wurst and leiderhosen...
jh..
i didn't bother reading this over, so if it was lacking in sense i'll trust that you can piece it together. and yay! more nonsense to come!
upon arriving in milan, we had one mission: find our way through the city to the town of monza. in any other europeancity we might have stood a chance, but we weren't in any other city. we were in milan, city of spiteful roadway infrastructure. the first amazing thing i noticed in driving through the city was the complete lack of sensible road-marking. sometimes there would be sign indicating a turn in the right direction (to the airport for example), and sometimes there wouldn't. now believe it or not, this makes it pretty effing difficult to find anything around the city if you've never been there before. hell, it would probably still be a pain in the ass even if you lived there. the second thing that i noticed about milan's traffic was that if you're on a scooter, you're quite apparently above the law. seriously. you can run red lights, drive on sidewalks at full road speed, drive on roads at sidewalk speed, squeeze your way through traffic in order to run red lights, you don't have to wear a helmet, you're apparently expected to send and receive at least one cell phone call per scooter outing (you don't stop to answer the phone, you just ride with one hand. you don't signal or use the brakes anyway, so it's kind of inconsequential), and when turning you don't shoulder check, you just kind of cut off whoever is behind and/or beside you and launch onto the nearest sidestreet while maxing the throttle on your shitty vespa. that's the key, kids: come in hot. gotta come in hot. now the third thing that dawned on me should have probably been the very first, but for some reason it really snuck up on me. they don't have lanes on the roads in milan. on the sidestreets you'd expect this, but when there is traffic running 5 cars wide through the shit-show that is milan, you'd expect some sort of guidance. the case, though, is to the contrary. if you want to exit a roundabout, you just go, even if you're on the very inside and there are 3 cars worth of traffic to your outside. you'll get honked at, you'll have fists shaken at you, and you'll be cussed out in italian, but that's just how it is. i can't stress enough how ridiculous it was driving in that city. our battle to simply get the hell out of town lasted something like 2 hours. and milan isn't a very big place. the fact that the street system runs in concentric circles centred on the middle of town doesn't help either, nor does the fact that one cirle will be comprised roads of some 2 dozen or more street names.
but i'm sure that in the daytime, on foot, milan isn't so ridiculous.
but then, maybe i'm wrong.
we arrived in monza, rented our parking space, and shut it down for the night. drifting in and out of sleep throughout the wildest electrical storm i've ever witnessed, we rested until the day broke on sunday.
the italian grand prix at monza. we've been through all of this before, so suffice it to say that the race was deafening, crowded, expensive, and something that i'd fully recommend to anyone i know.
on our way north we discovered that the italians not only put up with, but in fact love creating a mess of traffic. they selectively shut down several of the highways leading away from monza, forcing everyone in to a rather long detour through the outskirts of the town. it was fun. and by fun i mean retarded. but we found a pair of cars with swiss license plates, and set off, hot on their trail to (what we hoped was)...
switzerland. the only place aside from monaco where the streets are paved with diamonds. not really, but it looks that way at night. and let's face it, they have enough money to do something frivolous like that if they really wanted. let it be known that chocolate milk in switzerland is really good. they have the cows and the chocolate, and when they mix them up, oh, boy! hey, mouth, it's party time. the scenery was absolutely amazing, and when i go back to europe again, switzerland will definitely be a proper stop on the itinerary. this time we were on a schedule, though, so instead, after several hours too many of driving thanks to the stop-and-go traffic characteristic of sunday evenings in switzerland, we were home once again, in the land of wurst and leiderhosen...
jh..
i didn't bother reading this over, so if it was lacking in sense i'll trust that you can piece it together. and yay! more nonsense to come!
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