The Quest for a Stamp: Italy #7

Something bad has happened. I have finally gained a natural alarm clock within my body, not only is it whilst I’m on holiday.. but it’s also at 9:23am. Ugh! Plus the sore throat part of my cold is starting to shine some colours, I hope I don’t get super ill. In addition I’m also convinced that I got sunburnt the other day.. curse my British skin.

Although I awoke to an empty house, it only took 10 minutes for Lizzy to return from her single lesson and Natalie soon afterwards. Tiramisu was on the plate for brakefast, like the healthy people we are, with a side serving of more cherries. Discounting the fact that I made this pudding, I would say it was pretty good. I’m starting to feel a headache come on so I’m drinking a load of water, not that it will help , and I hope it won’t ruin today’s souvenir hunting trip. We’re going to finally post my postcards and hunt down a market stall to buy gifts at. If possible I’m going to buy a mask, they look awesome… if all my money’s worth. Oh well. The price we pay for beauty.
We should leave soon, assuming Natalie hangs up the phone and gets dressed.

We left at about 11:30… oh well. To look for some post stamps for my postcards we went to a newsagents. Most newsagents in Russia and England can provide you with condoms, cigarettes and postage stamps, the perfect equation to a great night out, however it appears that they do not provide the latter of the three in Florence. Seeing our disheartened looks the man at the counter suggested, instead, to go straight to the post office, and giving us vague directions for the approximate location. Following the river down to the centre of town Natalie criticised, in the nicest way possible, my lack of ‘touristy’ photography. Sorry. I would take selfies and such but it’s hard to do with a choice of a DSLR or a smart phone with the resolution of a broken mosaic made out of post-it-notes. Plus I prefer being behind the camera, I don’t like other people taking random photos of me… I guess it’s a reaction built in from years of dad taking photos of me at inopportune moments. Selfies I can deal with… but I have nothing to take selfish of… which sucks. Leaving me with the only option to take as many interesting photos to remind me what I did, pretty sights, funny people, street musicians or even the cute couple tangoing in the middle of the square. They were legit the cutest thing.

We had a small morning tea break in the centre of Florence, not the same place as last time but a smaller coffee shop called La Loggia Degliabizi… or something like that. It wasn’t as fancy as the other place, and to be honest the Latte I had in the other place was a bit better… This place was good, just not as good… like… if the first place was an 8/10 this was a 7/10. We had pastries as well in the place. Mine was a pastry type thing with custard inside. Delicious~

We finally found the post-office and entered the building. Dead. Abandoned. It literally looked as if a zombie apocalypse had stuck the inside of the building and no one was left alive. Empty cabinets, looming grey walls, even the man sitting on the lone bench did not seem to be moving. We moved further into the building, following the single neon sign, where we came to a door. ‘Ahhh.’ We thought. ‘This looks more like a post office.’ This single room in the massive abandoned building was the post office. Weird. We looked around for an obvious place to go to find postage stamps and with little certainty we instead approached a woman. After pointing out the right direction for us, she notices the translations between me and Lizzy. Grabbing on the the chance I am foreign she turns to me and says “We have special stamps, you want to see?” Hell yeah. Sure it’ll cost about three times as much but I might as well make the cards look cool, right? She starts pulling out leaflets with what I thought were example postcards with funky Italy related stamps. There were ones for Florence, for Italy, Rome, even the Olympic games. I chose a pretty on with a tiny map of Italy on it, “€5.”… Excuse me? I expected it to cost a little more but €5 for a single stamp? Get outta here. I shot Lizzy a confused look, surely she was kidding. After some quick ‘Wait a seconds.’ in Italian Lizzy turns around to me and tells me she was trying to sell me the postcard, the leaflet AND the stamp as a package. I ALREADY HAVE A BLOODY POSTCARD THATS WHY I’M HERE! Deep breaths. Voicing our apologies we walk back to the queue where we sit for about 10 minutes. New Russian word learnt: seh-bah-tah, meaning dog. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity we approached the counter and asked for stamps. They were the standard Italian stamps, I think, but they were still pretty funky. Although I started getting out my money I was shot down as Natalie paid for them. I feel bad for using her money as I’m not short of any myself, but there is literally no way to get in edge ways whether it’s food, treats or stamps.
We walked back through the centre, admiring the tiny replica in the middle of the square. We placed Lada on top so that she could finally know what it’s like to be tall. Bless that sleepy, floppy poofball.

It was around 2/3 o’clock when we arrived back to the flat and we collapsed in a heap. The heat of my face didn’t disappear, I was pretty sure I had caught the sun a bit, but Natalie didn’t believe that I could get sunburn in this weather so the matter was dropped. We had fish for lunch, fancy much, and it was probably my favourite thing since coming here. The type of fish was unknown, but it was grilled slightly with toasted pine nuts and slightly cooked parsley. Heaven on a plate. There was also a bit more of brains on toast, I found a recipe online which calls it a crostini… not what these guys call it but I can’t remember what these guys call it… I make perfect sense.
After lunch we collapsed back into a pile with Pringles and fruit. Natalie had offered to cut a si gel apple, notice the word single, and came back with an overflowing plate. Despite her attempt to convince us it was a single fruit, the combination of orange and apple gave the fact away a little. Hiding the orange under a larger pile of apple did nothing I’m afraid. It was here where I once again mentioned the fact that my face was still super warm and pink and hour after we’d got home. Natalie looked at me spoke to Natalie and then went off to find some sunscreen for tomorrow’s adventures. Great. Not only do I have a cold but I also have sunburn. My body most be super confused right now.

Natalie went out and we were left to our own devices. Lizzy did her homework and I worked out where I dropped Supernatural 2 years ago… apparently I got to over half season 7, sweet. Once homework was finished we pulled out the Potion game we played the other day. We that done and dusted I’m convinced I was just lucky last time, cause this time I was utterly thrashed. I won by a hair on the first game but lost everything after that.

Diner was… well.. not the best. I’ve had worse I guess. For some reason I agreed to eat some readymade seafood from the fridge, and boy was it a bad decision. You could tell it had been mass produced, all of the fishy flavoured were smothered in a sharp vinegar taste and I had to dry all the pieces of fish from the oil they’d been stored in. It got to the point where I was eating salad to subdue the taste of the vinegar, it was pretty much vinegar in a chewy, solid form. I swallows the smaller pieces of fish whole so that I cleared my plate. Why didn’t I say any thing? To be polite, offending the host isn’t in order, plus it’s a trait of the British to grit our teeth and roll with it no matter the problem. My first time trying octopus was perhaps not the first first go I’ve ever had. The chewing of the octopus was quite satisfying though, if you ignore the taste of the vinegar. I stole some of Lizzys pizza which she wasn’t finishing it, that washed away the taste of the vinegar. We also finished the tiramisu for pudding which was delicious~ along with a drinkable yoghurt, just to make things healthy.
I’m guessing it was the vinegar or something but ever since I fished the seafood I have the constant need to fart…. people, don’t eat tubs of vinegar infused fish. It doesn’t end well.

Tomorrow we have to get up at 7 to go to Pisa. I’m looking forward to Pisa, but I hate mornings… Fortunately Lizzy hates mornings more then I do so I can tease her *evil laughter*


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