Milano

We’re in Milano right now, in a flat on the fifth floor, rooftop view of the west side of town. There is a dog on the floor, some fine Italian canine sleeping on his big furry, floppy ears. His name means “Big Rabbit” or something like that. I’m moving more than a little slow today after my first night in Italy.

We rolled into the bus station after a twenty-hour ride across three countries. What a mess, trying to fix this jetlag and then I’m posted up against the window for so long, sleeping poorly and with no reading light until half past two in the morning. I slammed a pilsner before we got on and that just made me want to pee. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t a horrible bus ride by any means; the seats reclined to an adequate angle, I had a nice view of the countryside, there were no foul odors and they played a dubbed version of Under Siege upon our entrance to Italy.

But the Frenchie Gestapo pulled us over three times throughout the night, checking our passports, dogs sniffing our bags and then making us get off the bus entirely for a sweep through the cabin. The police looked bewildered the entire time, not knowing what to do next and milling about our bags that we had to drag out from under the bus. It was really a bit silly.

We got into Milano around noon, took the metro to the train station and sent a few text messages from a pay phone. You can do that now. We caught a regional train out to a stop near Pavia and our host and engineer Carlo picked us up in his Peugot. He’s taken great care of us so far. He drove us out through the countryside, looking much like the flat lands of Sacramento and a milky grey sky looming all afternoon with no sun for show. We came down a pocked dirt road and into a collection of very old buildings. We walked through the door into a 15^th century villa, high ceilings and dusty chandeliers. Carlo helped us get our bags upstairs to our rooms and this place was really like a Scooby Doo Mystery. There were mirrors all over the place, two hundred year old vanities and stone framed, single pane windows with ten-foot curtains.

It’s funny to me that the first night I’ve ever spend in Italy is spent in the oldest structure I’ve ever slept in. There was a stage downstairs with quality sound equipment, a bar with way too much Aperitifs, and a dinner of creamy pasta and red wine. Eric and I started the evening musically because we were late additions to the bill. We played well, very loose and vocal. It’s not easy to get used to some of the songs without bass, I usually sync up with Ryne and without that low end I can tend to drift a bit. But we were tight.

I drank a few amaros, some beer and then a negroni with some of the locals to chat with about world affairs, girls and music. It was a warm welcome to their country. The evening gets a bit hazy around three in the morning, but Eric said I was doing something I called the “travel dance”, which later involved me getting sick in the bushes. Too much fun. Today we got up and hung about the villa, talked with Carlo and road into Milano with him. I’ve been taking a lot of picture with my Holga, hoping it will turn some cool shots out. Tomorrow we catch an early train to Ferrara and meet or driver and bass player. We’re also opening for Mike Watt in Bologna, which is radical. Today is a little lost. Might walk up to see the dome soon. Milano is nice but I’m eager to get to Roma. And I am quite tired today.