Monday, May 28, 2012

crushing the eggs

Ah, we were landed with the world's most hapless tour guide today, taking us on a walk round central Milan.   I earned my keep by filling in at opportune moments - pointing out interesting gargoyles on the facade of the cathedral; explaining that Milan wasn't just a center of commerce, but a center of union growth and labor militancy in the late C19th, the lampposts offering useful platforms for speaking from about ten feet off the ground (well - maybe - I think I'd rather misremembered a Longoni painting); and translation.
Hapless tour guide: And here we have famous mosaic with the bull's eggs.
Assembled USC team: Huh?
HTG: The bull's eggs.
KF: Balls.
HTG: What makes the bull - a bull.
KF: (louder): BALLS.
HTG: Ah, yees - so for good luck, you put your heel - yes - there - in the bull's balls.  Eeees good luck.  
Etc.  Except all the team did their dutiful swivel, and then lost their match to a team of hungry Italian weasels - aka the Italian junior team, who were a ferocious lot.  So we all - that is, the non-students - went off to the bar and drank spritzers.

Going around Milan with a group of very tall blonde women wearing very short shorts certainly attracts a fair bit of notice.

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