New Year's in Milan

Milan at new year's wasn't quite as spectacular as I'd hoped it would be. After years of magazines painting a spectacular haute couture image of Milan, I expected things to turn out magnificent - a bright, cheery version of Zoukout at the Piazza del Duomo with fireworks and things going off in the backdrop - but instead the reality was terrifying.

Not for the reasons that you would expect, for a tourist; while most people would be terrified of things like pickpockets, I can safely say I was careful enough that even amidst the crowds I didn't really ever fear my stuff going missing. No, what I was afraid of were the firecrackers.

Lots and lots of firecrackers.

They went off like landmines, bursting out into loud noises and sparklers when you least expected them; every step became a trepidation trying to stay out of the firing line. Everyone was throwing them, kids and rowdy teenagers, even a few adults.

Clearly, my experience growing up in safe, firecracker-illegal Singapore showed, because my German roommates who had tagged along (to whom the firecrackers didn't seem much of an anomaly) were extremely amused by how I was ducking, screaming, and jumping at every burst.

The space at the piazza was crowded - there were people everywhere, turned out in throngs to celebrate the new year. It was also cold, as I'd expected Milan to be; nothing I can't handle after living in Scotland for four months, but that didn't stop it from getting through to my skin.

Some were trying to hide from the cold in the shelter of the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, one of the world's first ever purpose-built shopping malls. But with massive arching doorways stretching three storeys high at either end, it seemed that this channelled cold air through the streets rather than sheltering us from it.



In the end, frightened cold and miserable, I said goodbye to my German roommates, gave up on my idea of a fabulous new year's and left to go back to the hostel I was staying at, where it would be at the very least warmer.

Even back at Ostell Olinda, I didn't get much respite from the firecrackers; people were still setting off firecrackers as I walked back to my bunk bed.

If I said that I enjoyed my first night in Milan, I would be blatantly lying. It was not one of my favourite travel experiences, and it was a shocking first taste of the famously loud and articulate Italian culture. I'm struggling to find anything good that I've learned out of this experience, except maybe that I'm more certain now than ever that crowds really aren't my thing.