Gelato, pesto, duomo

So I went to Milan this weekend! Before I tell the story of my arrival, please keep in mind that I am normally a MUCH smarter traveler than I was last Friday, and I sincerely regret several choices that I made. But everything worked out in the end - just not as well as it could have.
I left Friday night. For some reason which I can't remember, I chose a flight that left Barcelona at 9:30 pm and arrived in Milan at 11:10. It was probably cheapest. Here is the first thing I won't be doing again: arriving late at night and alone. I seriously underestimated how long it would take me to get to the airport, and couldn't take the train as I had planned (73 cents) and had to take a taxi (22 euros) which would get me there on time. I got to the airport and checked in about 10 minutes before check-in closed for my flight. There was no line in security and I found my gate quickly, but shortly after I was patting myself on the back for (expensively) pulling off my last-minute arrival, I found out that my flight was delayed. We ended up leaving Barcelona at 10:15, and arriving in Milan at 11:45. I flew into Malpensa, which is the "main international airport" but which is also located about 30 minutes outside the city. So I took a bus to Central station, and arrived there around 12:40. I knew to take bus 90 to Hostel Amirai, but unfortunately couldn't find any buses and assumed they had stopped running - the metro was closed, so I figured that was a safe assumption (the buses actually run until 2 am). So I found a taxi (with relative ease), jumped in, and realized I don't remember a single word of Italian (unless he had some fettucine on him to which I could refer in a sentence fragment). So I said "Via Carlo Goldoni" and "eighty four?" hoping he knew more English numbers than I knew Italian numbers. He did, and we started off - with the meter STARTING at 6 euros. I grabbed my wallet to make sure I had... no. No money. I had 30 euros in cash at the beginning of the day, had meant to go to the ATM but forgot, and then the cab + bus had drained it. Thing I will not be doing ever again #2: Leave for a trip without PLENTY of cash. I tried to ask if we could stop at an ATM on the way with a mix of Spanish and English (spoken with my fake Italian accent) - it went something like "Podemos parar... stop... en un banco? Bance? Banca? ATM? No euros." Suffice it to say I was very eloquent. He understood completely and stopped at an ATM where... my card didn't work. I came out muttering "How the hell is this happening" and then told him in Spanish (which by this time he had conceded to understanding) that my card didn't work, but my friend was at the hostel and would have money so that I could pay him. He didn't seem too pissed off, in fact he seemed quite understanding, and we were off again. At the hostel, I ran inside only to have no idea where it was. I had directions: "first floor, door on the right" but I have no idea which is the first floor (in Spain there is often a 0 floor and a P floor before the first), and there is no marking whatsoever. I go to what turns out to be the second floor, where there's another hostel, and ask. He tells me downstairs... so I try the door on the right. It's open, and I poke my head into the darkness and say "Hola?" before realizing that I am NOT in Spain and that I have no idea what one says to timidly inquire into a dark room in Italy. "Bona cera?" was the best I could muster. No one answers. I run back up and down the building, listening to the aggravated honks of my taxi driver, then back to this same open door. I ring the bell (novel idea), which I now see says "Amirai BBM" in tiny letters, and a small, frightened nun comes running out, obviously from bed. She lets me in and I continue in my half-Spanish, half-English, completely ignorant pattern of speech, trying to explain that my friend is here. She says yes, she's here, but she paid for herself and not for you. She points me towards the room. I say, great! Do you take credit? No. Just cash. I mutter to myself again and swear to punish myself with some sort of "always carry cash" related forehand branding, then say, "I have to go talk to my friend. One moment." So I go into the room looking for Gaby before I realize that there are four sleeping people, and they all look the same in the dark. I try to explain this predicament to the dear tiny nun, and she tells me which is Gaby. I wake up Gaby, who sits straight up and hugs me, and then say, "Hi! I love you! Question. Can I borrow some money to pay for my cab?" Finally I run back down and pay the impatient cab driver a whopping 15 euros (he left the meter running while he waited for payment - understandable I suppose but WOW), then look for the woman to explain that my card didn't work in the ATM and I have no cash. She is really sweet and tells me it's fine and that I can pay in the morning. Exhausted and realizing that I royally screwed myself over tonight, I finally went to bed - unable to sleep because of the snoring Canadian in the room.
Gaby woke me in the morning and we headed off to see the Last Supper! Unfortunately Gaby had printed the wrong thing to get in, and the woman who at first seemed accommodating ended up basically throwing us out and not letting us see the painting which we had made an appointment and pre-paid 8 euros a piece to see. This was the first "Italians are rude" experience of the day, but it wouldn't be the last. So we went to get some coffee and talked for HOURS since we hadn't really hung out since last summer-ish (PS Gaby I LOVE you and it was the best day EVER). Then we wandered around until we happened upon La Scala, which is the opera house, and the cathedral, which is the second largest in Italy. We walked into the square and I was pretty much floored by the duomo - I don't even know what to say to describe it. Also! Great anecdote - my converter works most of the time, but for some reason refuses to charge my camera's batteries. So there is no photographic proof that I was ever in Milan. But other people have taken lovely pictures of it! As seen here. I really just have no concept of how to describe how incredible it is. Next we had some lunch (I had fusille with meat sauce), some gelato (raspberry and lemon), and wandered around a lot more. We found the fashion district and ogled at all the couture, tried to find some canals but ended up just wandering around the south of Milan, and then had dinner (pesto gnocchi) and more gelato (cinnamon and chocolate - the cinnamon was literally the greatest thing my mouth has ever experienced). Rude Italian #2 gave Gaby change as if she had paid with a 5, when she had in fact paid with a 10, and despite her several protests refused to hear her out. But the gelato was so good he almost didn't ruin the evening. We had plans to wander some more and then have a second dinner (how do you say no to more Italian food? You don't.) but instead we were really tired and it was pretty cold out so we curled up in bed in our hostel and talked more. Basically the entire day was just talking and talking and talking, with Milan as a lovely backdrop. It was great to talk to Gaby, not only because I hadn't seen her in so long but also because I haven't had anyone to talk to who actually knows me since David was here. So that was great, and we got to reminisce about St. Mary's stuff (like WHO WAS MY LOCKER PARTNER SENIOR YEAR? someone please answer this for me) and fill each other in on new stuff, and basically it was just the greatest day I have had since I left the states. We also met some Spaniards in the hostel and they told me that I speak Spanish very well - I was really excited about that.
The next morning I had a flight at 11:50 (Thing #3 not to do: leave early when I have no reason to be back in Barcelona!), so Gaby and I got up and went to the train station for some food and some people watching, then went our separate ways as she boarded a train back to Florence and I got on a bus back to the airport. No troubles this time though, I was through security an hour before boarding and we left on time.
So that was my weekend! It left me with the following thoughts:
1. Sometimes Italians are rude.
2. It is better to be crazy anal than lazy when it comes to traveling. Thank you, Dad.
3. Italian food is the greatest thing ever... but I was still very happy to come home to homemade paella and flan.
4. Gaby is an amazing human being, and I love and miss my friends from home.
5. Seriously. Be crazy anal when it comes to traveling. This was so stupid and SO avoidable.

Parentally-directed postscript: Please, lecture me via email or skype, rather than in the comment box.