a Nice time

So after venice, i took a 3 hour train ride to milan, italy - the supposed home of high fashion, and it was that and then some. the women were all dressed very well regardless of where they were going and what time of day it was. I had to get something dry cleaned and the lines of people even in there were impressive in their clothing.

The city itself really has no feel. Everything kinds of blends together to form this very homogenous place, but at least the subway etiquette was noteworthy. So I decided to take in the fashionable shops of milan on montenapoleone. Walking in dressed like a bum, i was surprisingly treated with respect and even offerred coffee at some places. I ended up buying a suit, but only because i was able to land tickets to La Scala, the milan opera and no one attends La Scala unless they are dressed appropriately, or at least i was told.

La Scala was started near the end of the 18th century and is reknown as one of the best opera houses in europe and easily the best in italy. It was more than that, it was awesome, a spectacle worthy of the expense of the scalped ticket I was forced to buy. I saw Puccini's Turandot performed in Italian, by Italians. The orchestra was great and certainly did not overpower the performers as was the case in Stockholm. The suit also did come in handy. Most everyone was dressed up so well that this was easily seen to be an event, not just the opera. Although it was easy to see the scarce number of americans in the audience, as they were wearing pants and hawaiian shirts. It was nice, I fit right in and this was one of the only places where people would come up to me and speak Italian first, not english.

From there i took a 5 hour train ride to Nice, France, right on the beach of the Cote D'azur. Funny thing about the beaches here, you see from a distance what seems to be nice white sandy beaches, but upon closer inspection turn out to be nice white, pebbly beaches. No sand, all pebbles which made for difficult walking. The good thing was the water, which was very blue, was not overrun with seaweed or little fish or whatever that the Caribbean has so much of. I spent most of my time in Nice just relaxing on the beach, trying to improve my tan, and recharging my batteries. The last dinner i had there was in this little bistro in vieux nice. The husband and wife co-owners made me feel really comfortable even though they spoke no english. The table was mine for the evening and i spoke with some of the other diners for the entire evening. By the end of the night, the wife was serenading everyone with famous french songs. It was great.

So then i left for barcelona, where i am writing from now. the train ride was hellish, but over. we took this bootleg train from montpelier, france to barcelona and arrived one hour late. Now I am looking for a friend who says he is in barcelona but is notorious for making plans and then not showing up. I will let you all know if he shows up. take care.