How lovely!

So, Italy done. Well, two places in Italy done for two days each. Having barely touched on such an amazing country, I'm annoyed with myself that I didn't plan more in the place- and I'm sure it would have been a much better experience had anyone from my hostels actually wanted to go out. At about 10pm in my Milanese hostel (which was more like a youth offender's institute to be honest; out of bed at nine, cleaners in 'til 3pm from then on, 'dinner time' at 7 'til 10, I expect this is what boarding school is like, without the hang-wanking) I stood in the middle of the main area and loudly, and drunkenly, asked if anyone wanted to go clubbing. Nothing. All of the tweed-clad 'youths' in this apparent hospice were too busy catching up on their Reader's Digest to give socialising a look-in.
No matter, Milan was good anyway, especially the visit to the San Siro to watch AC play lowly Catania. I went fully expecting a home drubbing, an expectation when the announcment that Kaka' would partner Inzaghi up top- but it finished a disappointing 1-1, the only real highlight coming when the 'best player in the world' (according to FourFourTwo this month) stroked home a doubtful penalty on the hour.
Before watching the game, I had wondered why, in the last few years, calcio has been losing supporters in their thousands (many to rugby; I couldn't find a bar showing Roma vs Inter in Venice, nearly all of which showed the rugby). But after watching such a great team play such pedestrian football, I totally understand. It wasn't just the tempo but the general quality that was lacklustre- how Milan are champions of Europe I don't know.
Again though, no matter; I had gone to the San Siro- how great was that?!
Next stop: Switzerland, Zurich to be specific. It is said in many publications that the Swiss have the best quality of life, and it is indeed a mark of the place that when you step off the train you are not faced with the usual medley of stinking, warbling pidgeons but instead the chirpy birdsong of hundreds of cute little sparrows. How lovely! If not slightly Truman-Showey. As the day wore on in fact, the whole city seemed as if it was being filmed for a tourism show; everbody smiles at everybody, children actually help old ladies across the road- they'd be lucky to be kicked across back home- and the whole population seems to be seated along the river drinking espressos and belly-laughing to some hilarious yet wholly decent joke. Now call me cynical (and you probably should) but I found this all a bit strange. Back in London old ladies are shot at dawn and the jokes being laughed at are generally about someone getting killed; or someone killing a black man (well alright, perhaps only in Erith). Maybe we all have to catch up with the Swiss, or maybe they've been ducking and diving every war since Thermopylae because they've been planning world domination for eons. Whatever, it's just all a bit too 'nice'.
Having therefore spent the night in an Irish pub watching the football, and later in a club filled almost exclusively with extras from an extra-charming epsiode of The Little House on the Prarie, I travelled to Geneva today, the journey itself past the Alps more exciting than anything actually experienced afterwards. For Geneva is as boring as it is pretty, and and it is a beautiful town...