Hello Milan

The flight from Paris to Milan was beautiful - all I did was look out the window at snow covered farms and the Alps.  When we landed, all my baggage appeared and I even figured out the baggage cart system.  I hopped in an (expensive!) taxi and headed to my apartment.

My Airbnb host had let me know she was at the apartment, but without the airport wireless I had no way of contacting her.  I stood outside the building and tried to figure out which buzzer it was.  The Airbnb listing said "7th intercom", but that isn't helpful when they aren't numbered and are in a grid.  I tried two buzzers that seemed promising - and was met with one woman glaring down at me from an upper floor.

Eventually, an older gentleman came to enter the building.  We discussed my situation - in Italian!  I felt very proud at the time, though I later realized I botched some of the verb conjugations.  Eventually the glaring woman came back and joined in on the conversation - finally, my host appeared and all was solved.

After a brief tour of the apartment, I vaguely unpacked and went to sleep for a few hours.  The trash system here doesn't quite make sense to me, but that may have been because of how tired I was.  I made sure to get up before it was completely dark, and I went out to see the nearby main street.  I was hoping to locate a mobile phone store, some food, and possibly a place where I could access internet.  There is a wifi hotspot in the apartment, but I have yet to get it to work.

The area has many small markets and bars (cafes), but is short of 'proper' (in my mind) restaurants.  I did locate a mobile shop, but decided I am too tired to navigate that exchange - which may need to be in Italian - and will do so tomorrow.  I didn't see anywhere with Internet.

I was debating whether one of the small markets would fulfill my needs, but then I found a supermarket.  I picked up food for dinner and breakfast.  At the checkout though, I was scolded for something involving the onions.  I didn't know the word, but the cashier pointed at the self-weighing system I had missed.  Oops.  This is why I went with the supermarket over the small markets - I don't know how to navigate a small market!  On the bright side, being yelled at in Italian didn't make me panic.  When I lived in France, whenever someone spoke to me in French I vaguely panicked. 

So far, I consider my arrival a success.  I knew that connecting with my Airbnb host and getting into the apartment (without a way to reach her) was going to be difficult.  I managed to have a conversation in Italian, even in a stressful situation and when tired.  The final obstacle is sorting out this wifi hotspot.  Without internet, I can't communicate with my Airbnb host, so I can't ask for her help easily.  Luckily, the instruction book is here and I think my Italian is good enough to read it!