With most of the M2 out of the way, all I had to do was finish the Gessate branch. There was a bit of a problem though. This branch was originally a long-distance tram service, running into Milan for much of the 20th century, until the decision was made to incorporate it into the newly built metro in the seventies.
It means that this branch is unlike any of the parts of the Milan Metro. Instead of passing through close knit urban communities, it links small towns and villages on the edge of the metropolis. The distance between stations can be measured in miles instead of metres. It passes through farmland and back roads.
I decided I'd do this branch a little differently, for various reasons. Firstly, I was exhausted. I'd done three days of intense speedy walking in a strange city and I didn't fancy more long walks. A lazy day of travelling would let me recover. Especially since the weather warnings were continuing, with the excess heat now getting the added threat of thunderstorms and lightning. Secondly, the routes between the stations weren't exactly exciting, long straight roads and the odd canal. And third, I wasn't in the mood.
So this blog post will be more of a list than a single narrative. I went to the stations, one after the other, passed through the ticket gates, took a sign picture and went back to get the next train. This isn't really a journey, more of a series of observations. Normal service will resume with the M3.
It was the end of the line and it really felt like the end of the line. By the time I reached Gessate it seemed like I'd left Milan far behind and travelled into the backwaters of the Italian countryside.
I went outside and took the sign picture then returned to the platform. One down.
CASCINA ANTIONETTA
For many years this was the quietest station on the entire network, surrounded by fields and constructed mainly to break up the distance from Gessate to Gorgonzola. Cascina means "Farmhouse" and that seems to be the only thing it was built to serve. Imagine being the farmer, seeing a huge metro station appear on your land for the use of you and your wife and maybe a cow.
Because it is a weirdly massive building. ATM would've been forgiven for sticking a couple of platforms here and nothing more but they treated it the same as any other metro station. This paid off in the long term, as, in the last twenty years, a new neighbourhood has been constructed next door to take advantage of those links into the city.
It's still distinctly battered and tired. The whole branch is getting refurbished, not before time, and it really needs it. Paint is peeling and some parts of the stations look unsafe.
The huge ticket hall is a pleasing element though. It's a shame that it's so empty.
GORGONZOLA
Instead I went to the Coop. There was one next to the station and I wanted a drink. I also wanted to see if I could find the town's most famous export.
That is some actual Gorgonzola cheese from actual Gorgonzola on sale in actual Gorgonzola. I was very tempted to buy it, because I was born without a sweet tooth, and a big hunk of smelly cheese is like a packet of wine gums for me. I didn't though, because I had a hot afternoon ahead of me, and having a lump of cheese sweating in my shoulder bag would do neither of us any favours. Instead I bought a bottle of Coke Zero, and the checkout girl and I had a confusing conversation where she pointed out the cold ones in the fridge to her side, and I was too embarrassed to get one so I said I was fine with it being warm, and then we both looked befuddled that I was speaking English, and basically it was awful.
I killed time staring at the network map. The M4 was still marked as under construction, months after its opening, which didn't help with the general air that this branch was ignored and unloved.
VILLA POMPEA
The footbridge was split in two, a public route on the outside, a railway route on the inner one, but the public route seemed to be abandoned. Either that or ATM refused to deal with the part that wasn't behind the ticket line and the council couldn't be bothered.
In the ticket hall, there was a map of the local area that seemed to date from the 1980s - probably the last time it was cleaned.
I walked out into a bare car park. Orange netting marked a building site, but there weren't any builders to be seen, nor any sign of what they were doing there.
Then it was back inside, almost tripping over a tiny step at the entrance to the ticket hall that was at just the right height to be annoying, up and over the crumbling stairs to the platform for my train out of there.
BUSSERO
Ok, I'll say what we're all thinking: Bussero sounds like something a certain kind of gay would call his arse on the apps. There, I've acknowledged it, we can all move on.
I got a moment of nostalgia when I saw the ticket machine outside the station. It reminded me of the ones that used to dispense my One Day Travelcard when I headed into London as a teenager. This blog is now getting sentimental over ticket machines, a new low.
It's hard not to like a station where the glass walls are covered with bird silhouettes. I'm sure this is to stop the local wildlife braining itself accidentally but it was still pleasing to see.
CASCINA DE' PECCHI
As I'd worked my way down the line, I'd become aware of a class division between the stations, one that I'm going to call Marble vs Non-Marble. It became clear how well kept and maintained a station was based on whether the platform steps were concrete or fancy marble. When I got off the train at Cassina de' Pecchi and saw that its platform was block paved I immediately recognised it would be a Marble station.
And so it was.
The city was creeping in on us. It was wrapping itself around the line, pulling it closer.
You might think that in a country known for having extremely hot temperatures that there would be some kind of provision to cool the platforms. You'd be right. Many of the stations featured large air conditioning units, ready to blast cold air out onto the grateful passengers below.
None of them apparently worked, but it was a nice idea anyway.
Can you tell that it's hard to think up something to say about some of these stations?
CERNUSCO SUL NAVIGLO
For reasons best known to themselves, ATM chose to paint the concrete on this branch of the M2 a pale blue colour. It's not a nice blue and it hasn't aged well at all. Worse, it's flaking off everywhere you look.
The good news is that Cernusco sul Naviglio they were repainting it. Part of the platform was marked off while two men slapped some white emulsion all over it. A massive improvement in anyone's book.
Cernusco S.N. was very much a Marble station. I went to the ticket hall and found people passing around, meeting friends, finishing work, going out for the night.
The street outside was busy and attractive. This is what I want to see when I step out of a railway station. Life. A city, a town, a village that's working and thriving.
The Merseytart Rules are simple and have been consistent over the nearly twenty years of this blog. Use a train to either arrive at or depart a station, pass through the ticket barriers, take a picture of your massive head in front of the station sign. Unchanging and ironclad.
It brings me no pleasure to tell you that the rules were broken at Cascina Burrona, for the very simple reason that I couldn't get off the station. The ticket machines were on the platform and none of them liked my iPhone, meaning I couldn't swipe to exit, meaning I couldn't leave. There was no way around them and no way to call for help. I'd been using the same payment method all day - and would use it successfully at stations for the rest of the week - so this was very much a station specific problem.
It meant I was trapped on the platform. I was the only person to get off the train so I don't know how much of a "me" problem this was and, as I say, there was no way to call for help. As it was all I could do was take a platform sign selfie as proof of attendance and silently curse ATM. It was lucky I wasn't walking between stations, because otherwise that would've been really, really annoying.
VIMODRONE
The final station on the line before it merged with the Cologno branch at Cascina Gobba and the only one to sound like a film where James Woods puts his hand into his own stomach, Vimodrone was definitely a Marble station, as you can probably tell from that posh platform.
I went up the steps to the ticket hall, which sits above the railway lines. Excitable teenagers were gathered outside, ready for a trip into the city. Tall apartment blocks towered over the access staircases. This was Milan now.
Vimodrone had already been refurbed, and while the white paint was an improvement on the nasty blue, it still wasn't great. The best way for concrete to look is like concrete and they'd created a rod for their back by covering it up.
Bet you can't wait, can you?