As a result of a narrowly won altercation with a gastro intestinal disagreement, today was spent in a dark room listening to the sweet sound of hotel demolition. I did manage to get out and have a pizza, which was served uncut and as one size. It’s easy to forget those European details—the street signs as placards on the side of buildings, the ubiquitous cigarettes, the shoe-destroying cobble stones, the rationed water in restaurants. I did run across an exciting new issue, and that is the fact that Italian post offices do not sell stamps. You have to get stamps at tobacco shops. I went to about five tobacco shops over the course of two days, and none had stamps. I am starting to wonder if mail is a thing here. I haven’t seen any compelling evidence. So, this means that my Italian post cards will be posted from England
In my stamps search, I ventured into the Milan central TRAIN STATION whaaaat. Yes I did. As expected, the building is impressive and huge. Inside is a mall, which included a post office that did no sell stamps and also a tobacco shop that did not sell stamps.
Overall though I will say the train station had some charm.
Also, I had tiramisu, which made me forget about everything else for a bit.
Tomorrow I fly to England!
paralyzedbynotcaring 