Derive at the crafts fair. The hampster escape

The waiting of this event was followed by frustration. I knew what i was going to go through. The subway trip: i was forced to take the line 1, which i hate so much, always over crowded, and it’s so bleak that i understand the mortifing feeling that pushes people to put an end to their own lives. It could be because the subway line it’s all underground, unlike the second line which reaches light and air at Cimiano, donating releaf to a terrible trip; it could be because the first line is red, definitly not a relaxing colour, unlike the second line, which is green; it could be because the first line starts from the train station of Sesto, always full of nasty faces, unlike Cologno Nord, where the second line starts, and where there’s absolutly nothing (except sometimes some gipsies and few car thieves).

Strangely enough, i haven’t found at the fair all the crowd i expected: it was a long week-end, because of a festivity, and at the same time, there was another fair in Milan (oh bej oh bej). So at the end i chose the right day to go: a tragic saturday afternoon. I don’t usually put up very well with crowded places, and after few minutes i become a fierce wild animal, ready to battle against anyone who dares to brush my personal space. Even more strangely, i felt as i was in a kind of a cotton state, where i almost loved the ones who stepped my feet, asking them to forgive me if i happened to find myself along the way of perfect strangers, excited by lights, xmas shopping and very high temperatures (i’ll never learn the lesson: every year i find myself dragging around my coat, my sweather, my shirt, and a purse full of anythig you can think of). At the entrance we are attacked by a bunch of girls trying to sell us the map of the fair: as usual we refuse, with a sense of superiority, thinking that the maze of stalls will not be able to confuse us. At the first flight of stairs... we are lost. The indications are so vague and contradictory, that we understand the big mistake we’ve done and our arrogance. But of course, at that point, we don’t find anymore cute ladies trying to sell us the map.

4 hours walking and we didn’t finish seeing the italian pavilion. I, a future architect, and my love, a future designer, weren’t able to find our way, following a logic path: we always ended up where we started. I raise my head, looking for hints, but all i see is the same scenary: always the same stalls articulated by white sails on the top, and yellow floor. I thought i was living in a nightmare: not an end, not a beginning, not a before nor an after, not a direction to follow... everything was left to chance, for those who didn’t want to spend 1€ for the map. It could have been a nice psychogeographic game, if only the scene would have changed sometimes. I instead felt like a hampster that runs on it’s wheel, towards nothing. As if it wasn’t enough we ended up seeing the most insipid stalls ( the stockings that never rip, the armchair that does massages, old ladies clothes... no crafts at all!). Desperate, we decide to go away: easy to say, not to do. We hear another couple asking directions, but not hearing the answer we decide to follow them: i get so used to them, that when they are stopped by others lost, i stop too to wait for them. After few seconds i remember we don’t know each other, and i go away embarassed. The only way of getting out is to go through the fair from the inside: there’s no way out of the pavilions... any excuse is good enough to try to make you spend money. Many people keep on stopping each other, asking directions to get out of the place, generating a sort of accomplicement of escaping hampsters. Finally we find ourselves on the subway, playing with the finger puppets bought outside the fair, the only expence of the day. People on the train seem to envy us, but they also probably think we are crazy: two over-the-twenties that play with wollen animals on their fingers must seem a bit strange. We violated one of the most important rules of the subway: don’t drag attention, don’t stare anybody in the eyes, don’t let anybody know what’s in your bags, preventing them from finding out by themselves. I think it’s good to remind people that they are human beings, when, during a trip not longer than 30 minutes, they act like dummies in a shop’s window.