Destination: Lago di Como

by Verónica Liso (Argentina)

I didn't expect to find Italy

I organized the first day in Italy about a month before: what to see, how to get there, how many euros we were going to need. I had Google maps, the subway line, train schedules, and the frequency of departure of boats in spring. Yes, boats, because on the first day in Milan the schedule read: Lago di Como. We leave in the morning with a full bottle of water, backpacks with a coat, documents and a camera. We walk determined to the mouth of the subway. When we were ready we stopped in front of the doors to get off at the Duomo stop, the subway passed by. So without warning. No bell to touch to avoid it. We got off at the next station and left somewhere in the center of Milan. I was outraged: I had planned with time that day. The itinerary was perfect and had been ruined by the damned Milanese subway line. Mom, on the other hand, looked happy. We walked a few blocks and we were in front of the Scala in Milan. A building seen from the outside did not seem like the big deal. Mom took pictures, looked everywhere, enjoyed the tour and I with a half smile thought about all the time we were wasting: in the end we will not know Como, nor the Lake, nor the house of George Clooney, nor the Alps with the mansions on the shore. Following directions we arrive at the Vittorio Emanuele gallery. The famous fashion ring swallowed us imposingly. The surprise won the bad mood: the golden arcades, the high ceiling of cast iron and glass, the paintings in the corners of the central dome, the windows Gucci, Armani, Prada, Versace, Valentino, Louis Vuitton. We walked with our nose pointing to the ceiling, taking pictures, when we noticed a line of people coming to the center of the gallery. Heading like meerkats we distinguish some carabineros (Italian police) and some fences at the end. We hear those from the front say in Spanish that it led to the Plaza del Duomo. How strange these Europeans, I thought, tremendous control to go to a square. Because as touristy and important as it was, it was still a place. We move fast. When it was my turn, a huge policeman and a pretty young man asked me if I had a lighter. As soon as I gave it, he turned it back. He fell in a corner on a stack of lighters of all shapes and colors. I saw the face of: what's wrong with you crazy? and as if to soften, he told me that when he came back I could pick him up. As soon as we passed the other side of the fence, a woman greeted us with a nod and pressed a kind of earned account. Someone put a yellow cloth on my hands and when I opened it I understood what was happening. The strip of yellow and white cloth had the drawing of a dove and said: Pope Francis. The square was full of people. Over the imposing cathedral, giant screens broadcast live the Mass of Holy Saturday, headed by the high-ranking fellow Pontiff. Nothing moved me less. We settled as we could in the background. The screens were barely visible. Mom could not believe the chance: our first day and we were already with Francisco, without even needing to look at the Vatican. I finally convinced her to leave. But first, we returned to where the police were to recover my belongings. I crouched in the corner and stirred the stack of lighters looking for mine until one flew over my head, because they continued with the same requisition technique. I grabbed the one with more at hand and left. That day, we did manage to go to Lago di Como. Without new unforeseen events and with enough time to enjoy the Alps. During the tour we fell that the subway tickets, the train station billboards, the television, the newspaper covers, announced to Pope Francis in Milan. It was everywhere. Everywhere except in my plans.