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Thursday, May 31, 2007

Just when I thought I had nothing left to say

Two things.

One, just got home from (finally!) meeting Jon and y'all, Jon is every bit as cool in person as he is online. And not just because he wrote a book and my blog is on a list in it or anything, but just because he really is a cool guy.

I'm not even sure how to say the second thing or what I want to say about it because every time I try to write it down I feel like a two year old brat throwing a tantrum. But here goes.

Ever since Paul and I got engaged (maybe even before that) I've been completely obsessed with the idea of having a baby. I don't know why. I should be happy with where I am, happy with getting married, moving to SF, getting my Master's degree and (hopefully) starting my first real career. Our LA pastor gave this sermon a long time ago that has stuck with me about people who always think that "the next step" will make them happy instead of being happy with what they have right now. I am totally that person. Especially since when I'm honest with myself we are nowhere near ready for children and we are really young and yadda yadda yadda.

So anyway, this morning I was reading this blog I haven't read in a long time, but which I used to read pretty much religiously and first started reading way back like eight years ago when I was a freaking senior in high school. Yes, high school. This girl is my age, we both have blogs but that's pretty much where the similarities end because she's much cooler than I could ever even aspire to be and incidentally she's a big ol' hippie. But that's besides the point. The thing is, she's pregnant. And as pathetic as this sounds I couldn't help but think, "Why not me?" Her post just got me thinking how we're always telling ourselves there's a "right" time but really the "right" time is just whenever it happens isn't it? She's unmarried, unemployed and the status of her relationship with the father is questionable, so a lot of people would say this is the "wrong" time for her but it's not because she's doing it. And having read her blog for the last eight years I'm sure she'll make it through just fine.

Okay, so there was no point at all to what I just wrote except that I want a baby. And also, I'm impatient. But also, since I am not pregnant maybe I will just have a glass of wine instead.

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wingless was still breathing at 12:57 PM - 0 comments

Writer's block

I want to write something great. Something witty, humorous and yet somehow profound and meaningful. I really do.

But for some bizarre reason every time I sit down to write garbage pours out and this is what we're left with. I'll be honest with you, I have no freaking clue what is going on in the world right now. The only website I've read recently is ESPN and the most stimulating debate Paul and I have had in the last few weeks is whether or not the Suns would even want Kobe Bryant (no freakin' way!).

I guess I've just got so much mess going on in my own life right now that I'm scared to even stick a pinky toe in the pool of politics.

It's not that I'm busy, because, well, I'm not. Yesterday my big outing of the day was a trip to Arby's where I didn't even have to get out of my car (thank God for drive thru). I think I spent eleventeen hours in bed watching every single episode of How I Met Your Mother (awesome show by the way) before moving onto Weeds (also a good show). See, my life isn't exactly a whirlwind of excitement at the moment.

Honestly, I don't know why I'm writing this. I could just write something about how I'm moving and there's this wedding and have I mentioned that I need a job? But I think about three people read this anyway so I might as well be honest when it comes to my excuses for not writing.

Come to think of it, maybe it is the fact that my life is so incredibly not earth shaking that I have nothing good to write about.

Well, I'm off. I actually *gasp* got dressed and everything today. Going to meet Jon this morning before he drives back to LA!


wingless was still breathing at 10:17 AM - 0 comments

Monday, May 28, 2007

Happy Memorial Day

The long weekend came and went way too quickly. Paul came up and we went apartment hunting and thought we had found a great place until we came home and looked at the reviews which all screamed, "Horrible neighborhood, lots of prostitutes." And also, "Run by slumlords." So we decided to go with option number two which also got some bad reviews but mostly about thin walls, noise and mean property managers, but the lack of sex trade issues made it the winner.

Other than that we did a lot of running around and taking naps at random hours of the day and now Paul has probably landed in LA, my mom and grandma are flying to Taiwan tomorrow and the house will be generally empty which will make me sad and probably drink wine in the morning.

Luckily I'll be flying to LA this Saturday to deal with flowers/dress/DJ/hair/makeup and any other wedding issues that need to be addressed. Oh and driving Paul's car up because we're movin' on up!

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wingless was still breathing at 8:31 PM - 0 comments

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Stand in the rain

Paul managed to calm me down, which I suppose is one of the multitude of reasons I am marrying him. Also, bridesmaids helped too which is why they are my bridesmaids and best friends and love them. (Aware that that was an incomplete, grammatically horrendous sentence and don't care.)

It's weird but being in France, five thousand miles away from Paul for almost five months was tolerable. For the most part I did not feel like I was about to go mad or have any sort of nervous breakdown or any other negative type reactions. Obviously I wasn't deliriously happy about it or anything but I also wasn't feeling like a crazy person ready to jump out of my skin.

I wish I could say the same thing about being a mere 360 miles apart. For reasons I can't quite put my finger on I'm having a much harder time with this. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that there is so much to do and I am finally in a position to do it and I'm feeling a little bit like a deer in the headlights with a ten ton truck rushing at me at eight hundred thousand miles per hour. Typically when I'm feeling like this, Paul rubs my back, cooks something delicious and pours me a large glass of wine. But he is not here and so mostly I have just been pouring myself many large glasses of wine. Not exactly the healthiest of coping strategies I suppose.

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wingless was still breathing at 1:38 PM - 0 comments

Wednesday, May 23, 2007


So I know that as the wedding gets closer every bride has her freak outs about the wedding and how it's not going exactly as planned. And I totally promised myself I would not be one of those brides. And really, I don't think I am being one of those brides. My freak out is not about the napkins or seating arrangements or the flowers are wrong, oh my GOD the flowers are wrong!

Whatever, I barely even care about that stuff. Truthfully the only reason I planned this big wedding at all was for my parents and my family. Paul is pretty much in charge of all the nitpicky shit like picking out cake and flowers. I don't even like getting all dressed up and having people look at me. My dream wedding really would have been hot dogs on the beach.

So my mom might not be able to come to the wedding. And I'm feeling like, okay, what is the point then. I wish I could just cancel the whole damn thing except we've already put deposits down and all that crap so we're stuck. I'm stuck with a wedding I don't even really care about. I never felt like Paul and I needed all the pomp and circumstance, we love each other and to me that's more than enough.


wingless was still breathing at 9:33 AM - 0 comments

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

A long rambling essay about what I thought of the French election

I've been meaning to write about the recent French election since I was (sort of) there to witness France's amazing feat of not flushing itself down the toilet. At lunch with one of my professor's just before the final election he told us that he hoped France would do the right thing (translation: Vote for Sarko!) but that French people have a tendency to be a bit illogical. So he was worried. And considering moving his business out of the country if heaven forbid that nutbag socialist Sego were to win. I'm putting words in his mouth with the nutbag socialist comment but I'm pretty sure that's what he wanted to say.

In the end it wasn't really surprising that Sarko (we Americans became very fond of the "Sarko vs. Sego" terminology - it made the election sound like some kind of Godzilla vs. King Kong face off) won. Once it was announced that it would, in fact, be Sego and Sarko in the runoff most French people seemed to indicate that Sarko would most likely win, especially since Bayrou chose not to endorse either candidate (I read/heard somewhere that Sego would have needed nearly all of his votes in order to beat Sarko).

But still, before April 22nd it seemed like there was a fairly decent chance that France could end up with a truly whacked out socialist President. I only met one person who really sounded like he wanted to vote for Sarko. And I still think Sego might have won if not for Sego herself and her whole "I am a mother so you should vote for me" campaign strategy. One of the strangest things to me about French people (and, I assume, Europeans in general) is how completely comfortable they are with the word "socialist." I mean liberals in America won't even admit to being liberals, much less being socialists (which, let's face it, a lot of them are) so it was weird being in a country where people were totally open to admitting, "Yup, I'm voting for the socialist." Maybe it's my American-ness but I am totally not convinced that socialism is not just a hop, step and a skip away from communism. If anything, in my mind, it's more insidious because it pretends to be something else but it will eventually wind up in the same place. Wasn't it Khrushchev who said that the West would become communist in the end because it would creep in slowly?

This is a bit off topic, but I remember before I went to France people were telling me how great it would be for me because it would open me up and make me see how the American way of doing things isn't the only way and blah blah blah. But you know what? You want to know the real, honest to God's truth? While I do love a lot of things about France and do have a newfound affection for French people, I spent a lot of my time in France going, "What the f***?!?" Because so much of the time, their way didn't make any sense. Whatsoever. Like not even a little bit. And honestly, I think it is a lot of the things they do different from America that has them in such deep doo doo right now.

Their social welfare system is completely out of control and one of the main arguments I heard against Sarko (besides "he's a racist" which I don't think is true) is that he actually pointed out the fact that something has to change. Towards the beginning of the semester one of my professor's was talking about how France's economic woes are extremely paradoxical. On the one hand they've got this huge social welfare system that people have grown accustomed to, which you can't take away because people are accustomed to it (this is something America needs to pay attention to) but that you also can't really afford anymore because you've got so many people using (and in some cases, abusing) the system. So you raise taxes on the people who can supposedly afford it (i.e. rich people, businesses). Well rich people, for the most part, didn't get rich by being stupid and ditto for people who are running successful businesses and seeing as how globalization has made it easy for people to pick up and leave one country for another, rich people and businesses are leaving France. In one presentation given by my French classmates we learned that over 1/3 of French people who leave France are executives. Okay, so you have a severely overburdened system and the people who are stuck paying for it are getting sick of being chumps and heading for America (or wherever) leaving the government with the same bills to pay but a lot less people footing the bill. So what does the government do? Raise taxes on whoever's left. Which of course drives more of these rich people/businesses away and so on and so forth until you're left with a giant bubbling mess of who knows what.

Seems pretty hopeless no?

Is there hope for France? Is Sarko that hope? I don't know. Sarko is far from perfect. Not long before the election he made some comment that amounted to capitulating to the Taliban (saying he would withdraw French troops shortly after the Taliban made a statement threatening France if it would not withdraw its troops). So nope, Sarko is definitely not perfect. But is he better than Sego? Uh, yeah. That woman was nuts. I don't know if you guys over here heard about "participative democracy" or not, but if not let me explain it to you: Basically she had no ideas, no real platform, nothing so she thought of this gimmick - you tell me what you want me to do and I'll tell you I'll do it. Let's talk about it. Yup. The sad thing is it almost fooled them into making her their next President. Not to mention the only ideas she DID have were about how to spend more money the government doesn't have.

Am I glad the elections turned out the way they did? Sure, why not. It turned out the best it could under the circumstances I think. And I'm probably a lot happier about it than most French people are since they all were very aware of the fact that most Americans wanted Sarko to win.

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wingless was still breathing at 12:05 AM - 1 comments

Monday, May 21, 2007

Now with more designs!

Hi. Not drunk today.

Not really.

(Okay, just a little).

Mailed out wedding invitations today and discovered that they require 58 cent postage, not 39 cents or 41 cents (postage went up y'all) as I mistakenly believed. So if your invite comes and it has eleven thousand stamps on it, blame the US Postal Service and its evil postage raising ways.

Anyway, my mom requires the use of the internet now so I'll catch ya later.


wingless was still breathing at 4:52 PM - 0 comments

Sunday, May 20, 2007

More proof that I've mastered the art of over-dramatizing

It may be all that pear liquor and red wine and other random things I might have ingested in my intoxicated state (DON'T JUDGE ME) but I'm exhausted and completely ready for bed. And fully aware of the fact that it is not even six yet. And also contemplating another glass of...something. I am not an alcoholic. Really!

I spent most of the afternoon trying to convince Paul not to put ridiculously expensive things on our registry and (mostly) succeeded. Although there is still a $1500 treadmill on there. And a lot of random computer parts. I tried. And being the lush that I am I convinced him we must have a wine rack. Must. Have. Also, memory foam slippers. And also a Kenneth Cole wallet because look how cheap! I'm probably making it sound like we don't have a lot of actual wedding registry type items on our registry but we do. I swear. Skillets and sauce pans and a lamp and a convection oven and all that good stuff.

Tomorrow my job search begins again in earnest. The advice I have been given by my mom and grandma mainly consists of "Take it easy, Paul has a job." I plan to take that advice. Pfft, yeah right. Anyone who reads this blog knows I am a basket case when it comes to looking for work. It's not because I necessarily really want a job per se, but just because I really, really hate rejection and tend to go all psycho obsessive in the face of rejection. I imagine "taking it easy" will consist of writing five increasingly desperate sounding blog posts a day about how I will never find a job and end up a bag lady in San Francisco.

Which doesn't even really make sense since Paul DOES have a job and at worst we will probably just end up living in a really crappy apartment on the wrong side of town and I will be too scared to even leave the house and so will just turn into a pasty white, mole-like animal who must be coaxed into sunlight with beef jerky treats or something.

Yup, that sounds about right.

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wingless was still breathing at 5:43 PM - 0 comments

A public service announcement

Currently feeling: Very disappointed in the pear liquor I bought on a whim during my last day in Paris because when am I going to be in France again?

And yes, it is 12:17 pm on Sunday afternoon DON'T JUDGE ME. I've also had three glasses of wine. California merlot. Which is sadly not measuring up to the 4 euro, corner market Bordeaux Superior I've grown accustomed to.

Note to parents/husband: Do not leave me with no food (other than a can of baby corn and two bags of Southwest Honey Roasted Peanuts), no car keys, lots of liquor and no cable television on a Sunday afternoon.

On the productive side I did finally add things to our wedding registry. Anyone interested in buying me us stuff can email me for the link.

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wingless was still breathing at 12:17 PM - 0 comments

Saturday, May 19, 2007

Welcome to the real world

So. Hey.

I'm back!

Yes, I know, not very exciting. Sort of anti-climatic really. But it is nice to be back.

I figured this out when I first moved to France and it holds true for coming back to the States - it's really the little differences that get to you. For example, toilet flushes being on the side of tanks rather than at the top. Or the way people don't stand to the right side of the escalator so that people who want to walk can go up the left side. Or feeling ashamed of how you really wanted a beer with your Taco Bell. No longer being able to make snide remarks at people standing two feet away from you because you know they won't understand what you are saying anyway.

When I was in France, especially towards the end of my time there, I was starting to get really antsy. I felt like my life in France was pretend-life and that my real-life was back in America, on hold, waiting for me to come home. It mostly had to do with the job that couldn't be found from 5,000 miles away and the wedding that couldn't be planned from across the Atlantic. Well, like most things, the grass is always greener and now that I'm back I'm wishing I had appreciated life being on hold a little bit more.

Real life...well it's not what I was expecting. Things are messed up on a lot of levels. Family, friends, things just seem to be in such disarray. And maybe I'm only feeling this way because my grandmother is in the other room moaning and my mom and aunt are going nuts trying to take care of her. Or it could be because I found out tonight that a friend has had cancer for the last few months, fucking cancer, and I've been such a shit of a person that even though I noticed chemo references in his profile I never bothered to ask him what was up. Yup. Go me. I fucking rule.

But you know what, I'm not going to make this all boo-hoo about me. Obviously there are bigger things going down in the world and I just need to grow up and deal with it. C'est la vie.


wingless was still breathing at 9:55 PM - 0 comments

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Athens = Kalo

I'm in Greece now and have internet! Sort of, anyway. The connection isn't so great, but at least it exists and that's a big step up from what I was working with yesterday in Rome.

So Rome did redeem itself a bit, mainly thanks to my sister and her Rick Steve's Guide to Rome tour book. Also we stumbled across a restaurant with pretty good service and even better food and the best Moscato D'Asti ever, so that made me happy.

We managed to hit all the big attractions in Rome...Coliseum, the hill behind it, Capitol Hill Museum, the Roman Forum, the Vatican, Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps, dead body...oh wait that's not really an attraction is it? We just managed to come across one as we sat and watched the sunset in the Piazza Venezia on our last night there. Yup, awesome. I admit that it's something that can happen in any big city, but I saw it in Rome and it was just another negative experience to add to the many negative experiences I had this time in Rome. Also, the Vatican ticket people were really mean and sent us back and forth between booths for no apparent reason.

After meeting some nicer Italians who I could tell were being nice but still kind of came off as brusque and snappy, I'm well aware of the fact that it's just a cultural difference, but it was one I didn't expect. From the French, I expected it and yet I found them to be very polite and congenial, if not friendly.

Happily, I'm finding the Greek to be much more agreeable. They are talkative and smiley and definitely know how to make a foreigner feel welcomed and loved. The older gentlemen who work the front desk are very chatty and helpful and have taught us a lot about etymology. They make me think of the dad in My Big Fat Greek Wedding who was always telling people how cool it is to be Greek. We tried our very first bottle of ouza tonight and though it wasn't bad, neither of us are huge fans of black licorice so I think we'll be sticking to the local wines from now on.

Also, fyi Athens is WAY cheaper than Rome/Venice and you get a LOT of bang for your buck! If it weren't for the ruins in Rome and the canals in Venice I would almost suggest to Paul that we skip Italy altogether during our next trip to Europe...even so we'll probably spend the bulk of our time in either Spain or Greece and breeze through Italy only to hit the spots that absolutely must be visited.

Tomorrow's agenda: Conquering the Acropolis.


wingless was still breathing at 2:31 PM - 0 comments

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Barcelona > Italy

Warning: The following post may contain some profane language. Such is my hatred for the country of Italy.

Je suis deteste Italie.

I’m having a really hard time figuring out why it is the French who have the label “rude” when clearly Italians are the rudest and most obnoxious of all Europeans. I realize that I am generalizing and blah blah blah but seriously, I’ve come in contact with more rude Italians in two days than I have in four months in Paris. I have never been more insulted by people allegedly in the service industry than I have here in Italy. I’m fairly certain “customer service” is not part of the Italian vocabulary.

Maybe I should begin at the beginning.

After we missed our flight to Venice (long story to be told at a later date) we ended up with only one evening in the beautiful city of canals. But before we could head out to the island we had to check in at our hotel, which was unfortunately on the mainland. Our very first impression of Italy was the surly old hotel reception man and the very first thing out of his mouth was, “put that down,” as he pointed to the duffel bag my sister had just lugged from the train station and placed on a couch. Then he basically commanded us to give him our passports and sit down. My sister was so sketched out by the place that she ended up sleeping with her passport and money in her travel pouch. The man redeemed himself by being semi-friendly and chatty the next morning as we checked out but it was still in a very, uh, brusque tone.

What else has happened in the 36 hours since then?

• On the island we ordered sandwiches and tiramisu from a complete fucking bitch of a woman who was working the counter. That is actually the only appropriate description for her. First she yelled at the nice English-speaking couple ahead of us who were simply trying to order a slice of tiramisu to eat while standing (it costs more to sit at the tables because of the cover charge for the orchestra). She kept telling them that they had to take it to go and they were saying that was fine they just wanted to stand and eat it but she kept thinking they wanted to sit down, eventually she called over the man working the café booth and he was the asshole to her bitchiness and didn’t get it either. The English-speaking husband ended up finally getting through to them and then even apologized profusely for the confusion while I fumed silently in the background because if anything it was the jerks at the counter who should have been apologizing, not the freaking customer. She then asked us three separate times if we were getting it to go even though I very clearly told her we wanted it to go. She also served someone behind us while we were in the middle of ordering. Um…okay!
• We arrived in Rome Termini the next morning and with all our bags in tow set off in search of an information kiosk where we could purchase a Roma Pass (it allows you to visit two attractions of your choice, discounts on attractions beyond the first two, and a three-day metro card). After asking a whole slew of official looking people where to go and being pointed in eight different directions we were fairly certain that these elusive information kiosks did not really exist…until we realized they were actually the cigarette stands and did not actually say information on them anywhere. Of course, none of those police officer/train station people bothered to give us this crucial piece of information.
• Finally bought our Roma Passes and made our way into the metro system. Um, ew? Seriously, ew! Packed trains completely covered on the outside with graffiti and although there were video screens running ads both inside the trains and on the platform not a single one gave any useful information, like where the hell is this train headed? So far only the platforms at the Spagna station seems to have signs which provide this crucial piece of information for travelers unfamiliar with the Roma metro system.
• Okay, so we make it out of the metro in one piece and find our “hotel.” I only use the word “hotel” to describe it because that is what I booked. A hotel. This place however, looked like a dungeon from the outside and is at best a hostel. Whatever, though, it was cheap so what did I expect right?
• After we settle in we head out and have lunch nearby. The service was much, much better than our service in Venice the previous night but even though the restaurant workers are obviously very nice, they are still quite a bit brusquer than Americans would generally be used to. Coming from France I understand that it’s mainly a cultural difference, but at least in my opinion, the divide between Italians and Americans is much wider than between Americans and French in terms of what does and does not constitute being polite.
• Towards the end of our lunch it starts raining. We buy an umbrella from one of the many umbrella vendors who have appeared out of nowhere and he tries to make us buy two by shorting us change and leaving us with an extra umbrella but we manage to get our money back and send him away with the unwanted umbrella.
• Since St. Peter in Chains is nearby we stop in and when we get back out the rain has stopped so we decide to take the metro over to the Spanish Steps to check if the American Express is still open so we can exchange our traveler’s checks (they don’t seem to accept them anywhere in Rome). It’s not. Even though it’s starting to rain harder we decide to walk down a busy side street and when we ask one of the umbrella vendors to move to the right side of the sidewalk he tells us to just get off the sidewalk and go around him. I want to tell him he is a bastardoh but my sister was afraid we might get accosted by the gang of umbrella vendors propositioning tourists nearby.
• It’s raining too hard to keep going so we duck into the “most lavish McDonald’s in the world” and get some Cokes and use the toilet. For the most lavish McDonald’s in the world it’s got some filthy, disgusting toilets. The downstairs area was nice though. In McDonald’s we see a baby drop some cookies on the floor and his mother (who is obviously Italian since when the rest of the group joins her at the table they speak Italian with each other) sees this but does not bother to pick them up and throw them away. Instead she leaves them on the floor. Her baby walks by again and smashes one into the ground with his tiny foot. I flip through Candace’s phrase book to try to find the word rude, but unfortunately it’s not in there. Asshole and bitch are though. Hm…
• Finally the rain stops and we go for the Dolce Vita walk described in Candace’s tour book. We pass by a Zara and decide to go in, quickly discover it’s much more expensive than in Barcelona or Paris and head back out. For some reason the alarm goes off when we walks by and we are manhandled by an incredibly rude security guard who does not even apologize after we walk through the sensors again and they don’t go off. He quickly becomes bored of us and looks away. There are a lot of security guards in France too, but usually they are very polite about asking you to step through the sensors again or looking in your bag. Especially if you don’t look like a hoodlum or a bum or something. I was seriously miffed and tempted to use the new Italian words I learned in McDonald’s.
• We keep walking down this street which is supposedly Rome’s version of the Champs Elysee/5th Avenue/Rodeo Drive and while many of the stores are the same (Dior, LV, D&G, Prada, etc.) there is garbage everywhere. Big, overflowing heaps of garbage bags litter the street, one particularly big pile just to the right of the entrance to Dior. So. Not. Impressed.
• Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that before heading to the Spanish Steps we popped by our dungeon…er…hotel to change our shoes and going back to the metro I slipped on some moss going down the hill and twisted my knee and my wrist (from trying to catch myself). I also managed to pull Candace mostly down onto the ground with me since our arms were linked to make it easier to huddle under the umbrella together.
• This morning as we are on the train headed once again to the American Express at the Spanish Steps (they were already closed by the time we got there the night before) this weird Italian guy in a rainbow skin tight tee squeezes behind my sister and myself even though there is a lot of room just to the left of us. We both have our sweatshirts wrapped around our purses which we are wearing across our shoulders and in front of us, so if he is a pickpocket he surely should have noticed we wouldn’t make easy targets. He gets off at the next step and I hear him mutter something that sounds like swearing under his breath because I don’t move out of his way. I don’t move because just to my left there is a TON of empty space and I figured he would do the normal thing (or at least normal in Paris, New York and Barcelona, the only three cities in which I’ve used metros) and go around me since it was easy to do so. By now I am barely even fazed. Another Italian jerk. Big whoop.

Seriously, the nicest and most helpful people we’ve met here in Italy so far have been other Americans on vacation. While I would definitely go back to Barcelona again in a heartbeat (I don’t think I planned enough time for us there even though we did end up with an extra day) I’d only come back to Italy if Paul really wanted to visit. It’s expensive, definitely comparable to Paris. It’s much dirtier than Paris or Barcelona. The public transportation is much scarier in terms of its appearance and the fact that we’ve been warned so many times by other travelers to beware of pickpockets here in Italy. My sister’s OCD is out of control, I see her constantly turning around to make sure I’m clutching my purse as tightly as she is clutching hers. She didn’t bust out the travel pouch until the day we left Barcelona for Venice.

Barcelona made me kind of wish I had been able to study there instead of in Paris, and Rome (Italy in general, really) is making so thankful that I was in Paris and not here. I know there are things to love about Rome, the history for one, but I guess it’s just not my cup of tea. I can’t wait to move onto Athens. I will try to enjoy it though since I’m stuck here for another day and a half. Will let you know how it goes.


wingless was still breathing at 10:57 AM - 1 comments

Thursday, May 03, 2007


Greetings from Barcelona. After a long day of traveling I've concluded that Europeans couldn't stand in a proper line if their lives depended on it. My feet hurt, my butt hurts from where I landed on it as I attempted to walk down some slippery steps in the wine/tapas bar but it's all good. I promised myself that I would not let myself see every day of this trip as merely one day closer to going home and I intend to stick by that.

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wingless was still breathing at 4:22 PM - 0 comments

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