Milan is out to get me

"If you take Milan’s name in vain… she will come for you, FACT!

It was December 2019 when we decided to spend New Year in Milan. After all, it’s one of the world's fashion capitals, and our expectations were high. The delivery, however, was not so impressive.

Milan, or Milano to use the correct term, is a multicultural city. Unfortunately, the city's councils have allowed it to become so diverse that some cultures have sought dominance, creating ghettos in the modern sense – areas you don't want to go near. So, while communication isn't an issue due to the presence of various nationalities and religions, it's important to note that it's not a harmonious coexistence.

My negative experiences stem from several factors. Milan isn't a clean city; there's dirt and mess everywhere. There's a lot of vandalism and subpar graffiti (mixed in with some very good ones). Moreover, there are certain areas that are quite unpleasant and feel unsafe, at least for tourists. Unlike Rome, Turin, or Florence, where style and safety prevail, Milan has very few pockets that live up to the dream of Milan. We discovered this quickly after booking a 4-star hotel in the Garibaldi area. There, we would often hear isolated gunshots late at night. Drugs are openly sold just three to four minutes from the hotel, and gangs of thugs intimidate people who just want to live their lives.

Despite these challenges, we soldiered on. We even faced threats for cash one night and chose to ignore them and walk away. On New Year's Eve, we wanted to do something different. However, I must admit, I'm not much of a party person, and large crowds and nightlife don't appeal to me. We opted for an event at a theater – a musical dance performance that culminated in a New Year's party. It was delightful; at the end of the night, everyone hugged and celebrated. However, the next day, we began experiencing symptoms of what we thought was a cold. Little did we know that something much more severe was about to hit us. Looking back to the year 2000, there was something vicious on the horizon. I believe we were among the first to contract it. We struggled for months with an illness that wouldn't abate, and my health has never fully recovered.

We took the train back to Garibaldi, but upon arrival, the station was surprisingly quiet. It was around 12:45 AM, and we were fortunate to have caught the last train. Unfortunately, we had stepped into a station that promptly shut down seconds after we arrived. We were trapped and did what anyone would do – sought help. However, help wasn't forthcoming. So, we took matters into our own hands and searched for a fire exit, a decision that would prove to be our biggest mistake. As the doors closed behind us, we found ourselves in a pitch-black corridor with no way to turn back, only forward and downward. It turned out that around 100 homeless people had made this corridor their makeshift home. For my partner and me, they made it abundantly clear that they intended to harm us. We sprinted through, stepping over bodies (alive) on the floor, evading grabs. At one point, I even spat in someone's face as they clutched my arm and wouldn't let go. It was like a scene from a horror movie. I kid you not, had we not been as aggressive and determined, we might have been subjected to something much worse. Oddly enough, they seemed more interested in me, a man, than in my partner, a woman. Perhaps they wanted to take out their frustration on the man they perceived as contributing to their homelessness. Eventually, we found ourselves in a glass corridor with chains at both ends. We managed to break free and thankfully found an exit moments later.

Less than a year later, my partner and her friend embarked on a girls' holiday after the first Covid lockdown was lifted. In broad daylight, my partner was sexually assaulted. Shockingly, no one intervened, and after she managed to escape, she filed a police report, but nothing came of it.

In 2022, we had to land in Milan on our way to Turin. Arriving at Milan Bergamo, we needed to change railway stations and were harassed by a man demanding money. He grew increasingly threatening, and unfortunately, there was no escape route – we had to stay at that station to proceed.

Three weeks ago, I attended a film festival. The most convenient route was to travel through Milan and continue from there. Our time in Milan was brief on our way out, but we had to spend 6 hours there on our return. As soon as we left Milan Centrale, we were greeted by a pile of human excrement on the street, with a suit jacket tossed in. We walked through the streets to D’uomo, passing countless homeless individuals, dirty streets littered with literal waste, and suspicious characters. Before we knew it, we were at the Wall of Dolls, a kind of memorial for women murdered by sexual predators. Hundreds of dolls were on display, representing recent victims. We navigated in and out without difficulty, but it reaffirmed my decision never to return to Milan.

And now, here we are. In an unexpected twist, our flight to Como was diverted to Milan Linate. My partner and I had to enter Milan to pass the time. Within moments of leaving the station, we witnessed someone defecating in the street. To compound our troubles, we received a dreadful email – our flight was canceled. The situation worsened as we learned that the National Air Traffic System in the UK had crashed, resulting in over 200,000 flight cancellations. Consequently, our flight was delayed by a whole week. Like hundreds of thousands of others, we were trapped, unable to return to the UK by any means.

The three times I slated Milan before being forced to stay here

I've been vocal about my disdain for Milan, but I can't help but wonder if Milan is trying to teach me a lesson. Perhaps by keeping us here, it's attempting to show us a different perspective on this ancient city. I suppose I'll have to wait and see."