Getting into Milan and finding Our Apartment

It's always daunting to arrive in a busy foreign airport, especially when all you want to do is go back to sleep.  The first hurdle is Customs, the long lines and expressionless customs officers who look at you like you're an insect.  Then comes the task of finding transportation to the city.  This turned out to be easy  with the Malpensa Express.  Just follow the signs "Treni" to the station inside the airport, buy a ticket for 11 euro and get on the right train.  We took the train to Stazione Cardona, one of the smoothest rides I experienced with excellent air conditioning, very important, because it was hot and humid in Milan.  Taxis were available immediately,  and the driver took us to the address I was given, an anonymous looking office building with no signage. An attendant in a glass booth assured us we were in the right place.  Following his directions we cram ourselves into a tiny elevator to the second floor and see a door marked "Hotel Solutions".  A young woman answered our knock whose name was Harissa, and yes she had our reservation and the apartment would be available at 2pm.  We left our luggage in a storage room and tested our phones.  Neither of them worked after multiple tries.  Finally, Harissa called the Verizon number for Europe and we were guided through the settings on our phones necessary for them to work in Europe.  No mention of this when we activated the phones in the US.  

Sweating, frustrated, tired and in a fog, we set out on foot to fill the long four hours until we could get into the apartment, cool off and flop exhausted on a bed.  The apartment building was two blocks away, and nearby we found a little park with a shady bench and collapsed.  Meanwhile daily life in Milan bustled all around us: a middle aged daughter pushing her mother in a wheel chair while the mother sucked on a cigarette using both hands, motor cycles, bicycles, buses, cars, people walking dogs, popping into a clothing store across the street where a sale was in progress that all of Milan seemed to know about.  Now, curious what all the fuss was about, we went in to take a look and see what we were missing.  The store, Matia, seemed stylish enough, but the prices were stunning.  Men's shirts after the 30% discount were averaging 90 to 110 euros, and the women's clothing ventured into the ridiculous.  Yet people were hauling out bags full.  Shaking our heads, we headed for the Brera district where the main art museum is located.  It was full of nice looking cafes, however, our appetites were gone.  By the time we got back to our little park, it was one thirty.  Way down the block I saw a man walking toward us struggling with a suitcase and a carryon bag.  It was mine.  A minute later, a small oriental man appeared with Eugenia'a baggage.  After a short but sweaty ride in an elevator the size of a cigar tin, Massimo showed us into the apartment.