Pasta on Pasta

We have arrived in Milan (pronounced mi-lawn) and are loving every single second.

We have refused the easy subway to walk miles on the streets.

Our hostel/hotel is a major upgrade from Villa Bellagio.

We have a lobby, (with a bar) and have a very friendly staff who seem to be willing to help whenever we need it.

Cammie and I looked outside our window to try and figure out what to wear.

“Black. All black.”

Nobody wears bright colors.

But also nobody is a normal human being.

The people that walk around look straight out of a Dolce and Gabana light blue perfume ad.

Cammie said it best: “I feel like I am in a Vogue Magazine and I am a peasant.”

EVERYONE is stylish and chic.

We met up with Reeny and her friend Lauren for lunch near the duomo. As Cammie and I were walking it began raining cats and dogs.

It was quite the sight. Two blonde girls struggling with their umbrellas in the middle of the piazza.

I forgot the feeling of being Italian full.

Regular full is like taking a lot of deep breaths.

Italian full is needing an inhaler and waddling on cobble stones.