After leaving Castello Sforzesco (full castle equipped with moat and feral cats; ri-donkey-pants), I found myself in a very amazing conversation with a woman on the metro. She got on and immediately started a rapid fire conversation, so fast indeed, that I wasn't sure that she was speaking to me until she paused and stated at me, waiting for a response. Feeling the pressure of her gaze, I resorted to my go to italian response of 'sorry, my Italian is not so good,' thinking that would be the end of it. It was not! From my statement she somehow gathered that I spoke Spanish, which apparently, meant she could keep talking to me. We proceeded to have a conversation where she spoke to me in Italian and I replied in Spanish with a few Italian words sprinkled in. I'm not sure what to call this: spaniano? Italish? We spoke through six stops about my hair cut and how her friends tell her to cut hers, but her husband might not like it. She gave me life advise; about how life itself is difficult so you might as well just live it. Then she told me to keep traveling while I'm young (I did have to explain that I'm not a student). I don't know how it got so deep, but as quickly as it began, so it ended and I got off.
I was sitting in the plaza at Milano Centrale, journaling about the above story, when a young man started yelling 'scuzi Bella, bellisima’. Again, it took me a second to pry myself from my journal and realize he was talking to me. I smiled and thanked him for the compliment, then he sat a few feet away and went about his business. I didn't realize what his business was until about five minutes later when he called out to me again, this time wanting to share his marijuana with me. Him: 'No fumas il ganja?' Me: 'mi dispiace, no!'
Do!
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