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Greece...gettting there!

I love the Italian airport. More precisely I love the Italian security in the airport. At least in the Milan airport, as I can't say I've spent much time in any other Italian airport. Excepting the time I was rerouted through Rome and given a free ticket anywhere in the world for being a good sport and volunteering myself to being rerouted. That was also a very positive airport experience. Italian airports are the bomb in my universe.
Milan security is haphazard at best with dilapidated little blue baskets rather than the large grey bins of the much more serious. A half open boxes of rubber latex gloves strewn next to a random assortment of papers over the machine that's examines the contents of your carry on . They smile, wave you through, not really bothering much when the beepers go off, chatting cordially with co workers in that beautiful language they get to call Italian. As airport proticall dictates, they go over you over with their devices but there is no serious in it as if they know it all a game to be played. My favorite is watching them run to answer a call. They skate across the floor of the milanes aiport with long pointed black shoes, skidding to a halt when they reach their destination. Little kids in socks on slick floor. Throwing their heads back lightly to keep them from pitching forward in the stop.
When I landed in Milan I lost all sense of I have to, I need to, this is what I plan to do. I went with what I need most in the moment, which was a bed and place to recuperate. I was supposed to go to Milan and go shopping but the day before my departure from London I came down with a bug, a nasty incarnation of flu and ridiculousness that left me completely over anything other than sleeping and trying to figure out what I could eat that wouldn't sit in my stomach in painful decomposing lumps.
My back pack was far to heavy for my state of being and to be free of it. I trodded from one end of the airport to the other trying to find a map and a luggage check, a luxury I don't normally use but in this case was to be my saving grace. If I could find one. I was on the verge of tears, feeling alone, without options. Completely untrue but feelings often have very little to do with the truth and more to do with the physicality of the moment.
I had made it to this particular section of airport by getting on a bus that seemed to be taking people somewhere beyond the no mans land I had found myself in on arrival. The bus was filled with greeks saying yes and okay in words I understood. I followed them off the bus into a long maze of construction work with passages coverred in white tarp. Ending up in a waiting room with nothing, no people no kiosks, no stores, no desks of information, nothing except some chairs. The greeks had disappeared as magically as they had arrived.
In the corner I noticed a small machine that looked like an atm machine. I left my pack on a chair ignoring the voice in my head that reminds of the things im allowed and supposed to do, the one attached to the systematic destruction of unattended luggage and approached the machine. Yes!! Score, a helping thing, a thing that would tell me where to go and what to do. Touch screen and in English. A few minutes later I had two destinations, luggage check and a human information desk. I found an exit and took a hidden escalator up to the next piano, Italian for floor. Woot !! A hundred or so yards down a corridor an my luggage was in the very safe hands of what ever mafia ran the luggage check. I didn't care that cost me an extra day to leave it over night although technically it wouldn't be there more than 24hrs, whatever. Eight euros for freedom! No more rucksack. Next was information. I needed a hotel. I didn't want to spend a fortune and I held in my mind 40-50 euros. A lot for me, who usually couch surfs. Spending at most the cost of a meal per night in any given circumstance. Quite a lot but it would be the price of a slow testing the waters entrance into the EU. The price of realization, knowing it shouldn't always matter how much. When needed it should be an option to take care of myself without hesitation. A primordial call to step up and seize the process involved in the accumulation of wealth. Rationalization as enlightenment is a great thing it makes spending money so much easier.

40 -50 meant 60 including airport pick up and drop off. I was headed to the cheapest hotel in the village nearest to the Milan airport and thrilled to be paying 60 euros. So much for a stopover in milan but a little italian village can be the perfect place too.

So that was the beginning much more has happened since but I will tell in due time :)

There has been rain and snow and hanging out and going to class and before that Athens and saying hello.

Until I write next.

ciao bellas

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