My last night in Milano and one of those classic things that always happens to me happens to me. After wandering town all day long, and soaking in what my friend Alberto calls “typical Milanese environment”, ie: cloudy, rainy, busy, noisy; I made plans to meet my friend Sarolina’s parents in order to pick some stuff up to bring back to Amsterdam for her.
To my surprise and to Sara’s approval, her mom and dad not only wanted to say hello and drink tea.. the moment they greeted me in front of Café Zucca the mother says to me “marko… come to our house for dinner”. They seemed like charming people and knowing how great their daughter is, I happily agree.
So there I am, a Tuesday night in November, sitting in a VERY Italian parlour with wall-to-wall books, discussing the history of Portugal with her father.. in Italian somehow. As so often happens, the father was very surprised about how similar Italian is to Portuguese…. which means Italians need to spread the word… they have lots in common with the Iberian penninsula.
In the end, I had a fantastic meal, and great discussion about their travels and life, including the recounting of a journey through yugoslavia, soviet union, turkey, iran, iraq, jordan, and syria back in the 70’s.
“It was an amazing time, the father smiled, “we were so welcome there and you were free to travel everywhere. Not like today, now you can’t get far without being questioned and so much has been destroyed.”
Afterwards they insisted on driving me back to the vlog apartment. Which has gone from housing 6+ people to an oh-so-comfy 3. (I get my own huge bed tonight). Tomorrow we’re off to Verona, where star-crossed lovers used to kill themselves I think.
For those seeking importance in the world: I’ve been listening back and reading through the transcripts that were released, of the military tribunals for guantanamo prisoners.