Leave Bergamo station 10 am. Arrive Milano Centrale 11am. Run for the hop on – hop off tourist bus. Take the blue line bus to the terminus. I don’t know it’s the blue line then but I figure it out later. Buy a day ticket from the slim black hostess €22.00.
Visit the Sforza Palace and park, sit on a sheltered bench, get my bearings, plan the day. Phone a friend, Robert, in shade of palace walls. Coffee in café outside. Admire towers, walls, fountain. Bergamo busker plays “Eye of the Tiger” on his electric guitar. Nice to get paid doing something you enjoy. Jumps up, chats to police lady in patrol car.
Palace building, defence, attack, manifestation of power, domination, to impress/intimidate enemies… and friends, wide courtyards and squares for rich powerful men of the day to ride horses through. Horses for Sforza’s.
Get the blue line at Castello. Irish ginger minger and girlfriend remind me of my sister, push in front of me ascending the bus. He doesn’t talk to me, Irish shitter, ignores me. Like father, like son. Stirs up old feelings, hidden wounds of rejection, neglect.
Past the Triennial, Peace Arch – no peace? Know peace – through the Porta Garibaldi urban renewal district.