Update! I am back in the good ol' US of A...I suppose that is a good thing. I mean there's no place like home, right? But I think I am convinced that you make your home wherever you want to make it. It could be sitting outside your locker when you were 13 years old, or it could be the house you grew up in. Either way, I found a home in Sevilla, and leaving it was really hard. When I gave Maria Jose a hug, I barely got the words "gracias por todos" out of my mouth without tearing up. As I walked into the station, there was a wave of bittersweet emotions that crashed into my sleep-deprived self. I dont know If it is just me, or it is everyone, but when I haven't gotten any sleep, my emotions are totally at the surface, and there is no stopping them. So when I sat down with my suitcase and my backpack and my ticket for a train that didnt come for another hour and a half, I was a hot mess. I broke out the tunes and that did not help in the least. Maybe I should have listened to some catchy, Kesha-type music instead of the meaningful songs I put on, but maybe I'm a bit of a masochist. The songs came on, and the tears flowed. They really were happy tears mixed with sad ones, i swear. But that hour was pretty hard, I'll give you that.
Once I got on the train, I thought I would be alright. I could sleep, I could dream, I could NOT cry. Umm no. As the train pulled away from the Santa Justa train station, I started to cry again! Goodbye Sevilla, I will miss you! But I've heard that when something is right, you just cant separate the two forever. So I know that I will see that beautiful city once again, some time.
The rest of the trip was just as expected: wait for one flight, takeoff, land, catch another flight, takeoff, land, wait for Dad to arrive, drive home. The standard. Oh! But just fyi, I hate the Paris airport. It is the most confusing, disorganized airport I have been to in my entire life. Granted I have not been to many airports, but this one takes the flipping cake. I speed-walked around that god-foresaken place for 25 minutes before getting from terminal F to terminal E. I wonder how long it would have taken me to get to Terminal A, my god. I was also in a time-crunch, so my mood was not a good one. So I pretty much growled my way through the whole place. And then, to top it off, my flight was delayed 45 minutes, so there was no need for me to rush in the first place. The only good thing that came out of all that was that I was thirsty and had to buy a water bottle, so I went to the store and also got Tiff a Paris snowglobe. ONLY plus-side of the trek to the depths of hell.
Now that I have recapped the ending, I should jump back to the middle. Yea, I know, this isnt how stories are supposed to be written. But when have I ever done things the conventional, proper way? Not to say I am off my rocker, but really, Im the girl who cant wake up at 11:oo, but must set my alarm for 10:59. Now that we are in agreement, back to Milan!
We had awful pasta (Spinach and Cheese ravioli and a sage butter sauce. It sounds delicious, but it was not). And afterwards, we went to a bar that we had passed the night before. It was a sort of edgier bar than the one we went to the night before, but thats ok. We sat outside and ordered our drinks. Melissa flirted with the waiter so we got free shots of something. It may have been tequila, regardless, it was disgusting. After a drink, we went to the tapas bar across the street because it was always packed. There were people outside in the street outside this bar for some reason and we wanted to know what that reason was. We were on a mission. So we squeezed our way into Il Tasco. It turns out it was a Spanish tapas bar! People in Italy all swarmed the Spanish tapas bar because they are so rare in Milan. Figures, we leave Spain and we end up in a Tapas bar. Well we bolted pretty quick from that place and caught a cab to take us to the clubs. We didnt know where that was, so we just asked the driver to take us to a cool club.
It turns out he had a friend who was a bouncer at the club, so we got to skip the line, but that didn't stop the people from asking for a 15 euro cover charge. When we heard that, we were out of there so fast even roadrunner couldnt have beat us. We somehow decided to go to a bar/lounge across the street which was pretty empty looking, but super modern. It ended up being a Virgin Lounge (as in Virgin Corporation, Richard Branson, not any other kind of virgin). It was so chic and so modern and completely empty. There was a manager, two bartenders and the four of us. Thats IT. We stayed there until close and it was amazing. If I ever go to Milan again (not likely) I want to go back there. By the time the place closed, it was past 2am, and we needed to leave for the airport by 3 or 3:30, so we headed back to the hotel to pack up the rest of our stuff, change clothes, and head out.
There was some wine that needed to be finished, so we finished that and got a cab and then a bus to the airport. We waited in the airport in Milan for about an hour or so, and then we were on our sleepy way back to Sevilla! It was a quick weekend, but totally worth the hassle. If not for seeing all the sights, I had the best pizza I have ever tasted. NY has nothing on Italy.
One thing at a time. Now that Milan is covered, I will continue the rest later. This may be my evil ploy to extend my Sevilla memories for longer and longer :)
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