Italian Initiation

Here we are in Milan. I don't feel like we've gotten a great feel for Italy yet, but our train from France to Italy was a good start. At our connecting train in Chambery, there were suddenly Italians everywhere, including a loud lady who tried to squeeze past me in a crowded aisle between seats, with a luggage that could go nowhere. I just stood there smiling, because I could go nowhere either. Definitely an immediate switch from the very accomodating French.
The highlights of our time in Milan have been sleeping in because there's not that much to see here-besides the larger-than-life cathedral-and ferreting out cheap tickets to see Cosi Fan Tutte at La Scala. Yes, dear various family members, it was an experience to warrant deep envy. I felt like I was in a movie the whole time, looking from my seat behind the balcony seats to the people in the cubicles across the way. I wished there was some bitter enemy I could spy on from across, that could make me feel even more like I was in a movie, but the best I could find was the two American girls we had met in line beforehand. They weren't very menacing. The opera house is red velvet and gold everywhere; a great chandelier sparkles from the ceiling. The performing was, of cource, spectacular. I've heard many great singers (shout out again to you family), but never all in one grand, seemingly flawless performance. I most liked the soprano who played Despina; she was an Oriental girl named Joo Doo or something like that.
What else about Milan? As many do, I've always equated Milan with fashion, but I've been on the outskirts of that experience here, sadly. I sort of expected to see model shoots and fashion shows going on everywhere, just as nonCalifornians expect to see movie stars the instant they set foot there, but I'm not running into that. We did walk down Via Montenapoleone, where all the shops are, and get some good photos.
One fun thing here is the bar right below our hotel room. We leave the window open at night, so that we can be lulled to sleep by the dulcet tones of a crowd of drunken Italian men. I think that's about as close as we'll try to get.