Milan mission accomplished

About a month ago, Jordan and I had a Facebook chat conversation that went something like this:

Derek: yo i wanna go to a serious soccer match before i leave europe.

Jordan: yeah that would be sick

Derek: ive been looking at matches and i wanna go to inter milan v. lazio may 2. i heard milan is the craziest place to watch a match in europe.

Jordan: id be down

Derek: flights on skyeurope are super cheap from prague to milan

Jordan: well i have no school that week so i could fly into prague then to milan then back to sevilla

Derek: i’ll book it right now, it’s 60 euro round trip

Jordan: lets race

Derek: done

Jordan: done

Derek: cya in a month

Jordan: word. peace

Derek: peace, ttyl.

So our itinerary consisted solely of one thing before we left: Get tickets to that match. It ended up being much more.

Our plane Friday night didn’t leave Prague until 7, so Jordan had three full days in Prague, which he was happy about. We left my apartment at five, not having written down the name of our hotel. We had one booked in Milan, we’d just need to find Internet once we got there. This would be a theme throughout the weekend (us being morons, not us needing the Internet, that is).

Milan doesn’t have an airport of its own, but it has two nearby. We flew into Bergamo and took a bus into Milan. We found an Internet café after trying to hustle a few hotels for wireless connection and figured out our hotel was only a 10-minute walk away. We checked in around 10 and decided to explore the city a bit with one goal in mind: Figure out where and when to get tickets to the match (which was Saturday night at 8:30).

After an amazing Italian lasagna feast, we walked around downtown in search of the night life scene. Now, the city of Rome is one gigantic museum. Milan, in comparison, is one giant mall. It’s the fashion capital of the world, with designer store after designer store. People come from all over the world to shop there and everything (clothes/accessory-wise) is absurdly expensive. Saturday we saw a Ferrari, a Maserati, a Lamborghini and an Aston Martin in one afternoon. Friday night we walked through the mall that is Milan, at which time everything was closed. We were nervous that there is no night life in that city, but finally we stumbled upon an outdoor bar, where a bunch of college-aged kids were hanging out and drinking. We met a group of kids, one from Egypt, one from France and one from Cyprus. I can’t say that I’ve ever met a kid from Cyprus and I can’t recall meeting any Egyptians anytime in recent memory, either. They were fun and helpful, told us that the Inter ticket office didn’t open until 5:00 at the stadium and that we shouldn’t have any trouble getting a pair. Good thing they told us, because we were planning on going down there (which was a metro ride away from our hotel) at nine in the morning. The Egyptian kid (who lived in New York from age six through high school, but was born in Cairo) took my number down and said he’d text me if they were going to play soccer the next day, or if they were going out Saturday night. My phone never beeped.
Saturday was our tourist day. We walked around the city, saw their Duomo (much different than the one in Florence) and did some window shopping at Georgio Armani and such. After a couple cigars on the river (tough life, I know), we ventured down to San Siro Stadium. We waited in line with a hundred or so people (I was expecting a lot more), got our tickets and had three hours to kill, which subsequently consisted of buying Inter scarves and jerseys and having another Italian feast. Before we knew it, it was time for kickoff.

To be perfectly honest, I was expecting it to be a little crazier than it was. Don’t get me wrong, the atmosphere was worth traveling for, but it wasn’t like I felt unsafe at any time (which was a bit disappointing). It was a lot like college (American) football, where the rowdy student sections are behind the goals and it’s calmer along the sidelines. No one was lighting flares or waving huge flags in our section, but behind the goal they were pretty wild. Inter was a big favorite at home and after a 0-0 halftime score, the hosts scored a pair of second-half goals for the 2-0 victory. We were exhausted and Jordan had a 6:20 a.m. flight back to Sevilla in the morning, so we just crashed back at the hotel after the game. That should have been the end of our trip. Little did we know, it was only the beginning.

When we got back to the hotel, I fell asleep while Jordan was in the shower. He woke me up to set my alarm, since his phone was dead. That was a mistake. I half-asleepily (I like to make up words) set it for 3:30 p.m. instead of a.m. Needless to say, when we woke up to the sun rising, we knew we were screwed. Sort of.

On the plane to Milan we saw this amazing-looking lake along the Alps just outside Bergamo. We made it our mission to go there Sunday. I had a 7 p.m. flight that I decided to skip, since I could book a relatively cheap flight to Prague Monday because I don’t have classes until Tuesday. So that’s what I did. And boy was it worth it.

After about an hour bus ride, we found Lago d’Iseo. It was arguably the coolest place I’ve ever seen; cooler than Cinque Terre because instead of the Mediterranean Sea across from you, there are Alps foothills. And to our left, were the actual, still-snowy Alps, as we stood in gorgeous 70-degree sun. Unfortunately, the kayak rental shops were closed because of a holiday, so we couldn’t go on the lake, but we had ridiculous gelati (plural for gelato) instead (the best dessert I’ve ever tasted) and walked along the coast for a few hours. Great day.

(Wow, I’m making us sound like a gay couple).

Back in Bergamo, we found an Internet café to book a hotel for the night, which was easy enough. I booked a flight for Monday and after one last Italian feast, our weekend was over. We hopped on the 5:19 a.m. bus to the airport (Jordan had a 6:20 flight; mine was 8:35) and flew back to our respective cities. Another successful, action-packed, European adventure.

Only one more left: Copenhagen, Denmark this weekend. Honestly, I’m burnt out. Copenhagen makes seven travel weekends in a row for me; 10 out of the last 11. I’m exhausted.

Home three weeks from today. No regrets.