3 August Milano

We gathered, for the first time, as a 27some, the next morning in the breakfast room of the hotel. Jaimey went over some logistical information and I passed out and collected forms. I had been memorizing the names of the students as they came in and had them all down for the forms.

We led the motley crew to the Duomo, where we met our guide, Celeste – but don’t call her Sell-est, it’s Shell-estay. Despite her pointedness about her name pronunciation, she was quite nice and a good guide, leading us through the Galleria, to La Scala, the castle, and back to the Duomo. Like I said, there isn’t that much for the tourist in Milano. Even though we had confirmed in advance that there were no clothing restrictions for entering the Duomo, of course, when we got there, it was determined that about five women were underdressed for the Lord. Conveniently enough, according to the laws of Italian capitalism, which often profits on the Lord, there were vendors who sold pieces of cloth, which could be used as skirts or shawls. I wonder if the Italian word for scam is scam?

We ended up in a restaurant Jaimey had scouted in advance – he arrived a few days prior in Milano. Lunch was pretty good but Celeste pointed out that most of the students, particularly the women, didn’t finish most of what was on their plate. I tried to explain as best as I could but she just continued to shake her head in disbelief.

Looking back on that day now, I realize I was a bit more vigilant about the students than necessary. Isn’t that always the way? Jaimey walked ahead with Celeste, peppering her with questions. I know this because she had a closed circuit radio she used to communicate with us and she left it on. My job was to bring up the rear and I undertook my job with the utmost conviction. I let not one student behind me. Twice, over the five hours, a student got behind me. I felt bad at the time, but, looking back, that’s a pretty good record for 25 students over that length of time.

Little did I realize that my tedious and tiring efforts were meaningless. Psychologically, the students were clinging to each other – strangers but in a stranger land. Their fear of the unknown was a far more effective clumping mechanism than my feeble shepherding efforts.