Today is mostly travel, since we've gotta boot out of Milano Malpensa at some time in the evening. So, me with my train pass, had previously planned on going into Torino solo. And that is what I did.

I always find that in a strange land I start feeling more comfortable around day 3. This didn't fail me this time either. On the ride in, somewhere around Navaro, a member of la Guardia di Finaza sat across from me on the train. He didn't speak English very much, but he managed to ask what I saw, and I answered in broken Italian; “hockey su ghiaccio at palasport olympico!” He laughed and showed me his security badge; Palasport Olympico. So, he's seen more hockey than I have – perhaps. We talked in fragments for a good half hour of the ride, which wasn't too bad. I held the door open for a few people as they walked in and out of the car. I threw out the occasional “Ciao!” or “Buon giorno!” and snagged a few more smiles for my collection. I think he, and the ladies across though I was a general all around nice guy. Canada, represent yo.

Other than the ride in, it wasn't an overly exciting day. I did, however, manage to see the city in day light. The city is gorgeous. It's not overpowered by skyscrapers and modern designs. On average a building is only about 5 or 6 stories tall. In some cases, they are fairly large stories, but most of them are about the same height.

It's no surprise really, given the age of Torino itself. Covered sidewalks, with pillars of stone, piazzas everywhere. Typical Italian I suppose. Every piazza with a statue in the middle, with some nearby large edifice with some type of overlook. That must be where the important people hang out.

I really don't know any history about Torino, nor am I going to study it. But I'll continue to say it looked cool, feels old, and has the flair of a new, young city. I'd return, some day, maybe when I'm fluent in Italian and can actually talk to these happy people.

On the way out I got another EuroStar. this one was different though. It was covered in Target-style bullseyes, an older model too. At first glance you'd think it was violated by Target, but as it turns out it's called “the bullseye express.” It was the only direct train back to the airport in Milan so I either took it and got to the Airport about an hour before the rest of the gang.

I had a time to reflect on the train ride in. Reflect on how much this trip is kicking ass, and how much Torino kicks ass, and how much the Olympic spirit actually does exist. It's hardcore and my expressive capabilities are too weak to tell you how hardcore it is. Also, I got a bit of planning on how much I'm going to do come Vancouver in 2010. It won't be the same mind you. I'll be able to speak the host language. But, it'll be bigger, badder, and uncut. I promise myself that.

I found my way to the ugly terminal of Malpensa, with apparently nothing to do in it except eat and drink. So I did that, I ate and had a beer. I wandered around looking for the guys and as time neared for the check-in counter to open for EasyJet, they hadn't arrived. I ran into the crazy Canadians that came over with us though. We chatted it up; I told them all about our excitement at the gold medal and mens games. They went to the gold medal game too.

They checked in, and I waited for a bit longer. After the guys finally showed up, we checked in. I think we were the last ones. We made the long walk through security and found those crazy Canadians again. We parked outside a little cafe-esque thing for a second and had a couple beers. Ok, I had a couple, everybody else had one. And suddenly, the chat was hardcore. Not dirty hardcore, sheesh. But seriously, after a short while I lost track of the conversation.

Passport control, boarding the plane, via a bus. God this terminal sucks. And I get stuck in the back of the plane with Fraser. Didn't matter, I had another beer. Conor was busy chatting it up still, and by the time we landed he (or Jamie) hand also landed a phone number. Cool.

We landed at Gatwick on time, or slightly early, I can't remember which. That was good considering we had left late again. We breezed through passport control, picked up our shit and said goodbye to our new Canadian friends.

Time to find the shuttle to the hotel. It's 11:15, we've got lots of time. We go outside and look around. Conor makes a phone call and asks where the shuttle meets. We go to where it meets with about 10 minutes to spare. It doesn't show up. We wait longer. It doesn't show up. Jamie calls again on the courtesy phone and they say too late, nobody was there. Can you say bull shit? I certainly know I can say it. We hitch a cab back to the Gatwick Worth Best Western, bitch at them a bit, and check in. I won't stay there again, the bastards don't even have ice.

That's it, Torino's done. Dammit, why does it have to be done? Why can't it go on?

Ah well, we all know I'm a freak. I'll miss it. I'll love it. I'll remember it.

Ciao Torino!