My train from Zurich ended in Milano, a city I was only familiar with through their delicious Pepperidge Farm cookies.
I had about 5 hours until my sleeper car to Rome at midnight, so I walked. I turned my back to the station and I walked. Here are my impressions.
Scooters are big in Italy. Like ridiculous. They clog the streets at every turn. If you don’t own a scooter, you’re nobody here.
Milan’s main streets through town are reminiscent of downtown New York, a little gritty, but eventually they open up to beautiful architecture like this, hidden in plain sight.
When I finally turned around and decided to head back to the station, I was determined to find a gelato place, because if I didn’t have gelato, it would be blasphemous. I finally found a nice place and began to order in broken Italian. The lady at the counter immediately cut me off in English and told me exactly what I wanted, as if to say “Don’t dirty my language with your feeble tongue, you philistine.”
The gelato was good, though. Molto bene.