Jan 27, Day 17, Attention x5

I have some fun material to write about, but my mind has been focused on what’s next for me when my contract here ends in March, and if I have more adventures to play out before closing this chapter in Milan. I’ll spare you the details, but I’m sure you can imagine that not every aspect of my reality here is milk and honey. These decisions seem so indelible I can’t help but get a little bent out of shape trying to figure out if I’m doing the right thing even though I’m probably blowing things out of proportion. Ok. Enough of that- On with the story.

Paddy responded to my text message Friday night that he would be going snowboarding in madesimo/chiavenna, but I’d have to find my own ride. After trying without success to find someone else to go with me I was forced to resort to the bus. I was waiting outside by the train station before 7:30 in the morning, but was “Italianated” and the bus escaped without me. For a visual depiction of the exact scene search Italy vs. Europe, and watch the flash movie devoting special attention to the bus scene.

However, I dragged myself out of bed before 6AM to find a gorgeously clear and sunny, but chilly Saturday dawn. This was not the first time a bus sabotaged me and I was certainly not going to let a maverick spoil the rest of the day. I returned home, changed out of my snow gear, bought lunch, and headed for the train station. I decided my destination would be lake Como or Maggiore to see the snowy mountains over the water. Given the early hour of my departure, I opted for the more distant destination, and headed for Milano Centrale to get the train to Stresa on Lago Maggiore.

Although my train would be continuing on to Switzerland, which means a seat reservation is required, I found someone sitting in my seat. (-this was not really a surprise.) So I crumpled into the next group of 4 seats to zone out until my destination approached. Shortly after the train began to move, I noticed a tall, pretty, girl with long black hair, and the look of a fashion-model saunter by me. But instead of continuing into the next car, she asked if she could have the seat facing me. (That’s 1) This caught my full attention because there are plenty of free seats, and people on public transportation usually distance themselves as much as possible from the next person.

She began to argue with the girl who checks tickets because it seemed she didn’t have one. I carefully observed the whole affaire through glazed eyes, until she looked to me for some sort of confirmation, which also said “I see though your synthetic disinterest.” Maybe I should clarify that observing did not include listening carefully to this episode because it would take about 115% of my concentration to follow an argument. I sat up and began to lean forward trying to follow while they settled their dispute. In the end, I received another glance that gave me the feeling that somehow this display was put on partly for my benefit. In any case, I was pleased to take part as a bystander. (Too) soon enough she packed up her things, and said, “Ciao.” And left me with a smile I couldn’t help but to return.

I scratched my head pondering what had just happened. I would not argue that the Italian female is a difficult creature to understand, but here was a girl that spoke to me several times with me hardly deigning to respond from my own trance of tiredness. –An infrequent occurrence for me in this country indeed! I don’t think it would take a professional playboy to realize that she was trying to get my attention.

I consulted the conductor about the possibility of continuing on to Domodossola and eventually Switzerland. She hadn’t been there, but said it’s rumored to be beautiful and worth the trip. I decided I might try to have a quick look in Stresa and get on a 2:30 train towards CH.

I marched out to the lake to check out the view. Expansive royal blue water reflected the cloudless sky before giving way to mountains blanketed in deep green pine trees encrusted with white snowy peaks. I took a few minutes to ponder this magnificence but was interrupted by a voice. “Bel’goirno, no?” (2) It was a scrawny girl with chin-length hair and crooked teeth. Wait... (!) $%^&…(!!!) I’ve seen her before! @&#% I’m not used to getting marriage proposals, and I still had a pretty clear recollection of the last time I was in this town when this same girl asked for my hand! (See Oct 29) As incredulous as it would seem, she was standing next to me, like the ghost of Christmas past! I couldn’t help but unleash some of my exasperation exclaiming that I remembered meeting her last time I was here a few months ago. She was noticeably taken aback, and I toned it down an exchanged a few words of modest small talk before I told her I’d have to be leaving to continue my field trip.

At the next overlook of the lake I was taking a few self-portraits holding the camera with one hand trying to line up the lake and mountains without letting my face spoil the shot too much. I noticed an interesting diamond brittle-starfish pendant on top of a black jacket suggesting a certain elegance that you don’t see too often around here. She was happy to help with my photography and chat for a while. (3) It turned out she was a lawyer from London visiting for a convention at the grand hotel. I invited her to accompany me on my outing, but she politely declined professing that she’d be returning to the airport soon.

A couple with a playful looking papillon wearing a red bandanna around his neck asked me to take their picture with the islands in the background. They asked if I speak French (which I found slightly repugnant) to which my answer was no, but Italian, Spanish, or English are all fine before I was given the explanation of the functions of their camera in Italian. I was more interested in trying to get a good shot of their dog. I think it would’ve turned out ok if I had the flash on, but he’s shadowed against the bright blue sky and mountains.

I continued on towards the funiculare (cable care) declining a weathered looking captain’s invitation to take me to one of the lake’s islands. A young woman caught my eye struggling to unload a shotgun or a set of skis in a black bag from her car. I was curios in either case what she’d be doing with a shotgun, or where she might be planning to go skiing because there was no trace of snow down here. I couldn’t quite tell how old she was, but it looked like she was one of those with eyes one notch lighter than their hair – which is often intriguing though has less effect on me now because it seems more common here than back home.