In Italy, Blushing at Knees

I spent all of 13 hours in Milan, Italy on my way to Senegal. I was a bit woozy still from the sleeping pill I popped as my Alitalia flight went wheels up from Cairo International.

I wasn't going to be ambitious, just curious. Wander around Milan a little bit, savoring the fact that I had packed less then I usually would for a sleepover. Maybe drink an espresso and flex my childlike Italian.

But then there were . . . the women's knees.

See, in Cairo? No womanly knees, no legs at all really. Now it's not like I have some thing for knees, you understand. It's just, living in an Islamic country means you get used to seeing a lot less of the female species than usual.

This means that anytime I go to places in Egypt with Western tourists, be it the beach in Dahab or the entrance of the Egyptian Museum, I have this immediate reaction, similar to what most people in the Midwest US would feel if someone came down the street in nothing but a bikini bottom. Mothers would call children indoors and the town hall bell would announce an emergency city council meeting to discuss the latest affront to good taste, apple pie and baseball. Well not quite. They'd probably just say "Stupid Yuropeans" and go back to their coffee.

Okay, so my reactions are different: Raised eyebrows, usually, and some under-the-breath comment about low women. Or, "they must be Eastern European prostitues," as some friends of mine whispered as two slinky minxes high-hipped by us at the Egyptian Museum.

The point is: You get used to the modesty. It starts to affect how you feel about people.

In Milan, immodesty surrounded me. I think my face turned a shade of the red-light district and stayed that way throughout my entire visit.

Other than be embarrased the whole time, I really didn't do anything that exciting. Wandered to the city center, window shopping along the way. Went in the big cathedral, where I sobbed my eyes out (still working on the reasons for that).Had a cappucino AND espresso by the central piazza. Ate a Texas McMenu meal mostly because you could get beer with it. I had to "Maxi-size" the meal to get the beer. Drat.

Hours later I shoved my Euros in my bag. No more fashion shopping for me - West Africa, here I come.