My readers will be happy to know that I can now wear a T-Shirt with the lettering "I Survived Milan Rush Hour" with pride, and that due to an uncharacteristic kink in our travel arrangements I am now staying not far from Centrale Milano (but entirely too far from my next meeting), slurping my e-mail through a GPRS straw.
Alas, Italy has not yet reached the density of UMTS coverage I'm used to enjoying in Portugal, but boy, do I like Citrix now... It works great (i.e., it's usable to edit Word documents) in 16-color mode over GPRS. Buy their stock.
I ended up bringing a camera - the DSC-T1, which was a dismal choice considering that it is almost as well suited for night photography as your average pair of sunglasses. Given that it was pouring rain the whole afternoon (at least those bits of it starting at the end of my meeting), the total number of useful shots is likely to be pretty small, which is a shame considering most of the nighttime scenario close around Centrale would not look out of place in a William Gibson novel -
From hip travelers with fashionably black luggage departing in the taxis' bubbles of light and warmth to umbrella sellers touting their wares in broken Italian, there's an abundance of ethnic variants set against a mixed background of stylish carvings, steel-lined facades and grimy apartment complexes, their windows hinting at a yellowish warmth that reflects on the long, shallow puddles that passing cars send gushing up into the air, the drops breaking up into ephemeral clusters of tiny floating streetlights.
Hah. If I wasn't going to have to wake up at 6AM tomorrow (just to make sure we make it across town in time for the meeting), I would probably go on and on - and maybe fool someone into believing I'm enjoying this.
Excuse me while I make sure that was the last aspirin.