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A friendly Norwegian showed me the way. He was a godsend starting at the halfway mark of our plane trip to Milan.I didn't take any notice of him when I took the window seat beside him other than that he was blond and didn't look Italian. He slept most of the way, making it hard for me to escape to the washroom. I had to find ways of not thinking about relieving myself after all the Coke I drank. I knew I shouldn't have bought the third bottle. He finally woke up and asked me where I was going. His accent was hard to make out - I couldn't figure out where he was from and I was almost frightened by someone talking to me on a plane. But, it was english he was speaking to me so I thought I couldn't do him or myself any harm by talking conversing with him in my native tongue, knowing it was challenging for him. His name was Palle and he was from Norway. He took cheap flights from Norway to Switzerland to ski, Italy to eat and drink, and France to soak up the sun. His job allowed him the luxury of taking an unusual amount of time away from work, but still be paid as if he was there. He sounded important in the food chain, but he was trying to impress me with his stories of travels. That or I was jealous of his ability to hop on a $13 cross-European flight at a moments notice. After gathering enough information about me, he was amiable enough to say he would help and protect me until he saw me off in Milan. What was the worst that could happen, I thought. The list was endless. The rain was falling hard, the sky was pitch dark and we were landing in the fashion capital of the world. Palle became my guide, my forty minute hero and a much better resource than my Lonely Planet's Guide to Italy. He looked after my bag while I rushed to the washroom in the arrival gate, showed me to the bus which would take me to the train station in Milan where I needed to end up, he taught me how to say thank you in Italian, gratzie! so I could thank the bus driver, and told me of the crazyness that is driving and parking in Italy. His lessons helped a great deal, in more ways than I could express. Dead tired, hungry to the point of starvation and as excited as a girl on her first date, I was set out again - backpack on my back, to find my hotel and my friend. It only took a single knock on the door to know I was in the right place. An animated and very western "Yahoo" echoed from the hotel room. I was finally here. Posted by Bella at 6:24 PM# 0 Comments:
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