If there is anything I would advise you to know about Milan before booking a flight, it is that Milanese do not signal when driving and purposefully drive at least 60 km/hr over the posted limit. Not once during my ride from the airport did my dear driver Franco signal to change lanes (how horrifying and positively medieval) but neither did anyone driving around him. And get this: they all drove in perfect synchronization and did so without dying. Weird.
Because it's a Sunday, Franco took me straight to the apartment. Imagine five girls, aged 17-21, from literally all over the world, at a summer camp in Milan, living in an apartment, without a counselor. That is my living situation for the next two months and it is fabulous. For those of you who watch America's Next Top Model, it's not really anything like that probably because our flat lacks a bitchy, ghetto, black girl, which seems to be the most reoccurring theme ANTM has ever had to offer. My two roommates, Jill from Germany is an angel and Someone Else (whom I haven't met) from Canada is probably sweet too. All five of us share a shower and cook for ourselves in our very own kitchen--how very grown up of us. As far as I can tell, there is little utilization of this apparently foreign concept known as Sharing, which is fine by me considering I planned to hide my expensive beauty products and eat the entire freakin Family Size bag of Hershey's Kisses, which somehow managed to pass through opened at the Italian security checkpoint?
(my room; the third bed of unknown model is on the lower left)
(A room with a view; the tiny balcony with the chair is outside of the room where the other two girls sleep. Kitchen, bathroom, and long hallway are all somewhere to the side & inbetween)
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