Arrivo in Italia
Awake at 2am, left the house by 3am. I took the long journey up to Birmingham airport where I met my two housemates for the year; Anna and Danny. I said goodbye to my parents and headed straight to Wetherspoons for the last full english breakfast that we will have for nearly four months! We then boarded the flight to Malpensa Airport and here is where my journey began…
After a quick flight we landed in Milan at 9:50am, made our way through the airport and there was our transfer driver, holding up a sign like they do in the movies. Except there were three Coventry University students; half awake, filled up on bacon and sausages, each struggling to carry two suitcases along with a backpack filled with essentials. The guy seemed to be in a rush when he found us, which was our first indicator of how the journey from the airport to the apartment was going to be.
We stopped at the Estate Agents on the way to the apartment to pick up our keys, which we assumed would take two minutes. So we got to the Estate Agents to find that there was a bit more to it than just picking up the keys. We had contracts to sign, which weren’t yet printed. We had pre-payments to make before actually getting the keys and that, takes more than just two minutes. Like i said earlier, the transfer driver was in a rush, so you can imagine how he felt when “two minutes” became twenty-five minutes. We ran out of the office to find the driver on the street corner screaming at us in Italian. We apologised for it but he just raced off. I will never forget experiencing his speedy driving and how he managed to make a three-lane road turn into a four-lane by driving in between two cars.
We gave him the address we had from the estate agents: apartment number twelve. We arrived at this long street and started searching for our apartment. The only problem was that it didn’t exist. There was no “number twelve”. Screaming at us because he couldn’t find it and that we must have read the address wrong, the three of us checked and showed the driver the address we were given. It was definitely apartment number twelve. He again raged to himself (or us) in Italian and then demanded that we phone the estate agents. We phoned them numerous times but nobody answered. This angered the driver even more. He had finally had enough and told us that he has other appointments and we needed to leave the vehicle. He quickly got our suitcases out and said “Ciao” before speeding off. So here the three of us were, stranded along some long street in Milan with an apartment address that doesn’t exist.
After searching between the buildings numbered “Nine” and “Fourteen” we received a phone call from the estate agents… we live at number seventy-four.
We strived up the street, sweating bucketfulls and finally arrived at the apartment. It was quite the modern place! We took our time to unpack and then attempted to:
Go food shopping
Join the gym
Find the University
Find the nearest pub
All of the above were done in a few days.