*I had 5 hours of sleep yesterday and had to rush to work a stressful 4 hours in the office after being called back suddenly: forgive me if this post is incoherent.
I recently finished reading the 'indie' favourite The Perks of Being a Wallflower and Rats Saw God. Both stories followed the lives of male protagonists as they go through High School, fall in love and so on. They were also written in the '90s and littered with the requisite pop culture references. However the similarities sort of ended there.
The Perks of Being a Wallflower pretty much followed what I expected, plenty of 'hip' literary references like Salinger and Rand (why the hell do indies love Rand anyway? Is there something they perceive about being an individual equate to being selfish?) and the requisite 'hip' music references to The Smiths. I laughed at some points because it was too indie for me. I must admit I enjoyed the personification of the narrator though, because I found I could really relate to him. I understood perfectly how he felt, and have actually felt that way before. However at the end of the I preferred Rats Saw God.
Rats Saw God on the other hand exceeded my expectations. I expected some Hunter Thompson-esque bunch of incongruity, but the originally perceived explosion of drugs never actually happened. No sheets of Mesculin were anywhere to be found. Instead it followed the life of a teenage boy who was relatively drug free until his senior year. I found the book utterly captivating. From the setting up of a highly amusing Dadist society to the ending which led to him fleeing Texas (which made me feel sick because of the memories it brought), it proved to be highly rewarding for a USD6 book.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Mr Gammett has a lot of things to say
Imagine me, the underpaid under appreciated unqualified law intern doing your legal work for you. Legal work that holds the fate of your suits many hundred of thousands dollar judgment in my little hands.
Now doesn't that scare you?
Now doesn't that scare you?
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
A recollection from Dubrovnik
I just remembered this:
We had just finished walking around the old city walls and we were all sweating profusely and feeling really hot. The sun was punishing and you could feel the skin burning from the strength of its rays. Basically what we really wanted was a nice cold drink.
I wanted a coke, but cold coke without ice was too sweet and therefore not nice. I looked at the cooler inside the shop.
Get me a 100 plus please!
There's no 100 plus here.
What? Why!
They only have it in Singapore, don't you know? I like drinking it too.
:O HOW TERRIBLE. Do they have Pokari Sweat then?
UH what?
Nevermind, get me a Fanta please.
We had just finished walking around the old city walls and we were all sweating profusely and feeling really hot. The sun was punishing and you could feel the skin burning from the strength of its rays. Basically what we really wanted was a nice cold drink.
I wanted a coke, but cold coke without ice was too sweet and therefore not nice. I looked at the cooler inside the shop.
Get me a 100 plus please!
There's no 100 plus here.
What? Why!
They only have it in Singapore, don't you know? I like drinking it too.
:O HOW TERRIBLE. Do they have Pokari Sweat then?
UH what?
Nevermind, get me a Fanta please.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These
It is perhaps apt that right before (give or take 2 weeks) I leave Singapore for abroad, that I attend a mini school reunion. Just like how days earlier I was getting really excited about how it was the anniversary of one of the most dreaded days of my life, these past few months have often reminded me in the strangest moments how much IB in general has shaped my life.
My Dad used to tell me the reason Michael Jackson was so messed up (this was even years ago before he died) was that because as a child he never got a chance to attend school and mingle with his peers, to grow up dealing with people and all the mini trials and tribulations school brings along. To this I cannot help but agree, school for me provided a safe place for me to grow up in and to understand the world around me.
I learned un-pc truths like how incompetency and inefficiency in endemic everywhere, gained regrets at all the missed connections and things that could've been but never will be, discovered the more unpleasant sides of my psyche, lost my mind, struggled through the most mentally exhausting experience of my life, felt disappointment so many times I can't even count the number of times anymore, got to know the best lot of people ever, became friends with the best lot of people ever, grew as a person in trying to understand myself and most importantly I survived.
The reunion today felt strange. It felt like a year onwards nothing much had changed. It also felt like nothing would ever be the same again, that everything had been forever fully altered. It felt a little like something good that had been left out for a bit too long. It made me wish a little that I didn't go because what I had preserved in my mind was too good and anything further could only serve to taint my memory.
After the reunion most of us from .9 ended up drifting towards the bus stop where mild chaos unfolded as multiple snap decisions were made to take various buses and 'go where the bus goes'. In the end we boarded 166 supposedly to go to Arab Street, but we ended up alighting at VivoCity. Dinner was at White Dog Cafe (I think) followed by more aimless drifting about towards Timezone. After dismissing it as utter rubbish, the group splintered up to go meet the KKK, go home and go to Elliot's place.
In the end only JLC, Patrick, Gerald, Justin and I ended up at Elliot's place. They started playing Scrabble "wah SEX ruins everything" - Elliot while I channel surfed. We ended up watching Iron Chef, the rice special, Prom Night (good God) and finally the last 10 minutes or so of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. In the end Elliot sent me home.
I don't remember anything very outstanding about tonight. It was a night like most of the class outings. The same people, personalities, innuendo laden conversation, laughter. Yet I know I would have been so much more worse off had I not attended.
I'll miss 6.9 2008.
My Dad used to tell me the reason Michael Jackson was so messed up (this was even years ago before he died) was that because as a child he never got a chance to attend school and mingle with his peers, to grow up dealing with people and all the mini trials and tribulations school brings along. To this I cannot help but agree, school for me provided a safe place for me to grow up in and to understand the world around me.
I learned un-pc truths like how incompetency and inefficiency in endemic everywhere, gained regrets at all the missed connections and things that could've been but never will be, discovered the more unpleasant sides of my psyche, lost my mind, struggled through the most mentally exhausting experience of my life, felt disappointment so many times I can't even count the number of times anymore, got to know the best lot of people ever, became friends with the best lot of people ever, grew as a person in trying to understand myself and most importantly I survived.
The reunion today felt strange. It felt like a year onwards nothing much had changed. It also felt like nothing would ever be the same again, that everything had been forever fully altered. It felt a little like something good that had been left out for a bit too long. It made me wish a little that I didn't go because what I had preserved in my mind was too good and anything further could only serve to taint my memory.
After the reunion most of us from .9 ended up drifting towards the bus stop where mild chaos unfolded as multiple snap decisions were made to take various buses and 'go where the bus goes'. In the end we boarded 166 supposedly to go to Arab Street, but we ended up alighting at VivoCity. Dinner was at White Dog Cafe (I think) followed by more aimless drifting about towards Timezone. After dismissing it as utter rubbish, the group splintered up to go meet the KKK, go home and go to Elliot's place.
In the end only JLC, Patrick, Gerald, Justin and I ended up at Elliot's place. They started playing Scrabble "wah SEX ruins everything" - Elliot while I channel surfed. We ended up watching Iron Chef, the rice special, Prom Night (good God) and finally the last 10 minutes or so of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. In the end Elliot sent me home.
I don't remember anything very outstanding about tonight. It was a night like most of the class outings. The same people, personalities, innuendo laden conversation, laughter. Yet I know I would have been so much more worse off had I not attended.
I'll miss 6.9 2008.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Spooky
! Talk about weird coincidences. Just after I wrote the thing about a year ago I went back to check my entries from last year.
Happy 1 Year IOC Anniversary Date.
Okay now I really need to get to sleep.
Happy 1 Year IOC Anniversary Date.
Okay now I really need to get to sleep.
Time
It just occurred to me that just a year ago, I would have been half awake at this very time sitting outside my house waiting for the school bus to come pick me up.
It would never have occurred to the me of then that the reason why I am awake at the exact precise time a year later is because of jet lag, for I have not slept the entire night. It is 6:49 PM in the US.
It would never have occurred to the me of then that the reason why I am awake at the exact precise time a year later is because of jet lag, for I have not slept the entire night. It is 6:49 PM in the US.
Somebody call 911
Jetlag feels powdery. It feels like someone has coated powder all over your fingertips, brain, neck, soft padded part of feet. It feels like the automatic mental inversion of time, like 5:40 am instead of 5:40 pm. It feels like exhaustion and yawns, but without the actual lack of rest and sleep. It feels like you should be somewhere else, instead of where you really are.
Monday, August 17, 2009
I didn't listen to my ipod the entire 30 hour travelling time back
So here I am, safely arrived in HK airport and waiting for my transfer flight back to Singapore. I’m happy I’ve made it alive so far; especially after the harrowing flight I just had from Chicago to here.
Well it really wasn’t a harrowing flight. There was the usual turbulence and absurd plethora of movies that I slept through, the same amount of too little leg room and visions of dying from deep vein thrombosis. Only difference this time is what can be described as the theoretical seat mates from hell. Theoretical meaning they gave me psychological torture, but didn’t actually do anything.
First comes the one I call Junior. He’s called Junior because through repeated observations I inferred that he was Senior’s son. Except Junior is of an indeterminate age ranging from 17 to 27, making me reconsider this inference multiple times. Junior looks like a gangbanger. A gangbanger in the ‘hood’, ‘crips’ and ‘bloods’ sort of gangbanger. He had tattoos all over his neck, arms. If he had a H A T E on every knuckle too I wouldn’t have been surprised, except I was too scared to look.
Junior also comes with the rest of the gangbanger stereotype. He had a shaved head, slight goatee, droopy pants and black t-shirt that was too large for him. The only thing missing really was the hugeass chains they use to choke people to death with, though I imagine he only removed it because airport security would’ve been a pain. Did I mention he looked really scary? And Vietnamese? That made me think of the Vietnamese gangs in Australia, the most insane and fiercest of gangs (read it somewhere), though I guess there are Vietnamese gangs in USA too.
At one point of time 17 Again came on. I happened to look to my right and saw Junior watching it. The thought of a gangbanger watching Zac Efron prance about on stage was too funny, so I giggled in my head. The thought of this was too hilarious so I snuck another glance. To my disappointment Junior was sleeping, his eyes were closed. However the split second I looked at him, his eyes opened. Opened like a horror movie. Opened like I’m going to bash your brains in and destroy you. Opened like OH MAH GAWD I’M GOING TO DIE!!!!!!
And to further illustrate my point on how terrifying this was to me, a tiny small harmless Chinese girl, this is what the expression on my face was:
So I spent the rest of the flight sleeping/cowering and avoiding looking at him.
Senior wasn’t really scary. Just curious. He was a dark wrinkled man who spoke Cantonese and Vietnamese. First he assumed I was from HK and said Mmgoi. Then he gave up and just spoke in English. He was a raging alcoholic. Raging in every sense of the word. Just like how some people drink water, this guy drank beer. The only relief was that it was Tsgingtao Beer, of which I shall make the assumption that it is watered down and has a low alcoholic content because he did not get drunk after 8+ cans of the stuff throughout the 14 hour flight. He had tea once too I guess.
This was all after accidentally sitting in row 51, realizing my mistake and moving up a seat before anyone caught me. I looked longingly at that seat every time I got up to go to the bathroom.
Well it really wasn’t a harrowing flight. There was the usual turbulence and absurd plethora of movies that I slept through, the same amount of too little leg room and visions of dying from deep vein thrombosis. Only difference this time is what can be described as the theoretical seat mates from hell. Theoretical meaning they gave me psychological torture, but didn’t actually do anything.
First comes the one I call Junior. He’s called Junior because through repeated observations I inferred that he was Senior’s son. Except Junior is of an indeterminate age ranging from 17 to 27, making me reconsider this inference multiple times. Junior looks like a gangbanger. A gangbanger in the ‘hood’, ‘crips’ and ‘bloods’ sort of gangbanger. He had tattoos all over his neck, arms. If he had a H A T E on every knuckle too I wouldn’t have been surprised, except I was too scared to look.
Junior also comes with the rest of the gangbanger stereotype. He had a shaved head, slight goatee, droopy pants and black t-shirt that was too large for him. The only thing missing really was the hugeass chains they use to choke people to death with, though I imagine he only removed it because airport security would’ve been a pain. Did I mention he looked really scary? And Vietnamese? That made me think of the Vietnamese gangs in Australia, the most insane and fiercest of gangs (read it somewhere), though I guess there are Vietnamese gangs in USA too.
At one point of time 17 Again came on. I happened to look to my right and saw Junior watching it. The thought of a gangbanger watching Zac Efron prance about on stage was too funny, so I giggled in my head. The thought of this was too hilarious so I snuck another glance. To my disappointment Junior was sleeping, his eyes were closed. However the split second I looked at him, his eyes opened. Opened like a horror movie. Opened like I’m going to bash your brains in and destroy you. Opened like OH MAH GAWD I’M GOING TO DIE!!!!!!
And to further illustrate my point on how terrifying this was to me, a tiny small harmless Chinese girl, this is what the expression on my face was:
So I spent the rest of the flight sleeping/cowering and avoiding looking at him.
Senior wasn’t really scary. Just curious. He was a dark wrinkled man who spoke Cantonese and Vietnamese. First he assumed I was from HK and said Mmgoi. Then he gave up and just spoke in English. He was a raging alcoholic. Raging in every sense of the word. Just like how some people drink water, this guy drank beer. The only relief was that it was Tsgingtao Beer, of which I shall make the assumption that it is watered down and has a low alcoholic content because he did not get drunk after 8+ cans of the stuff throughout the 14 hour flight. He had tea once too I guess.
This was all after accidentally sitting in row 51, realizing my mistake and moving up a seat before anyone caught me. I looked longingly at that seat every time I got up to go to the bathroom.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Something filled up my heart with nothing
I have an annoying habit of mentally composing things in my mind, like for example blog posts. I then have the even more annoying habit of forgetting my thoughts, which results in frustration at my not being able to recall the exact wording. Yesterday was one of those times, where I spent the duration of the car ride from Philadephia's airport back to the house.
In essence the past 12? 13? days have been rather exciting and jam packed. Thus I take the liberty to be really lazy and type in short sharp bursts of words, with the tenses all over the place too.
-----
Flying at night from Philadelphia to De Gaulle. On demand movies that called out your name and prevented you from sleeping. Blast of cold icy Parisian air from bus to terminal. Flight to Venice. Blast of sticky heat stroke Venetian air. Board ship. Be wowed. Feel tired. Take photos. Run about Venice. Take a gondolier ride. Eat a tiramisu ice cream. Look at masks. Get hit by a flying pigeon. Board ship. Gorge self silly for dinner. Sleep for 12 hours. Wake up for boat drill. Flop about like a fat penguin in a neon orange life vest. Forget the rest of the day. Prepare for formal night. Attend dance/singing show. Eat more dinner again. Meet table mates. Laugh. Take photos. Meet photo shop Sameer. Repeat for 10x more days in various exotic locales.
Discover the Mediterrean is hot as hell. Discover Europeans have not heard of air conditioning before. Discover ties first came from Croatia. Discover not all Greek islands have white houses and blue roofs. Discover a random Asian Art museam on Corfu. Discover Captain Cornelli's Mandolin was filmed on Argostoli. Take a belated interest in Argostoli after complaining about the heat the entire time we were there. Enjoy buying 1.50 euro large bottle of coke from the Argostoli supermarket. Find a racist nigger rapper doll. Find racist doll sings 50 cent's In Da Club. Discover seas so aquamarine blue and clear it looks like a dream. See wind farms from the ship's deck. Feel tired multiple times in between. Sunbathe somewhere in between. Spend too much time lying on belly during subathing. Shower and find out that you're now two-toned. Watch The Big Lebowski. Ride a donkey up to Santorini. See white houses and blue roofs. Swear never to ride donkeys again. Admire little alleys. Decide to come back again, for perhaps a Summer job?
Go to Sicily. Find out why Sicily is such a popular gangster haunt (It's a dump. Looks like Manila.) Find out that Syracuse is too far to drive from Catania. Discover the Aragon family has roots in Catania. Wonder how the ancient royals survived the heat in their multiple petticoats. Visit a fort. Admire how bad Sicilian drivers are. Admire how crappy Sicily is. Learn that Sicily is but a small representation of the whole of Italy. Marvel at how chaotic Naples is. Marvel at how chaotic Rome is. Marvel at how they remind one of Nepal. Suffer through train rides in airless smothering heat. See Versuvius. See old lava. Enjoy cool air rushing past hot skin. Run away from hot, but B.O. smelly shirtless blonde guy. Marvel at how large Pompeii is. Rush about from locale to locale in Pompeii. Debate whether place is a public toilet or kitchen. Rush back to train station. Frantically look for clothes that cover scandalous knees and arms. Get annoyed at legs that are too long because dresses don't cover the knees.
Rewear dress worn on Corfu. Buy a shawl to wrap around shoulders. Wake up early. Listen to car blaring techno music on the way to the train station. Sit on train. Open windows. See Vatican. Kick self upon the realisation that Oxford probably looks like the Vatican. Queue to see St Peters. Sweat like crazy in shawl and dress. Laugh when sleeveless, knee revealing women get chased away. Marvel at St Peters. Feel like praying. Visit Vatican Museum. Walk through halls like a herd of sweat sticky sheep. Get pushed from place to place by the crowd till we reach the Sistine Chapel. Get yelled at to shush by Vatican guards. Get pushed out of Sistine by the crowd. Eat goopy flavourless undercooked pasta for 5 euros in the cafeteria. Gape at how rich the Catholic Church must be. Rush to Spanish steps. Rush to Church of bones, to find it closed. Skip about happily at seeing Via Veneto. Get stared at by local after repeating Via Veneto repeatedly. Rush to Colosseum. Buy a frozen bottle of water for 2 euros. Lap at water to moment it melts in the bottle. Rush to forum. Pretend you know what ruins you're staring at. Wish Tourism Ministry put some effort into providing information on ruins. Rush to Panthenon. Gape at how this isn't the Panthenon you envisioned. Realise Pantheon invision is in Athens, not Rome. Ride a local bus to the train station. Run to train to see it pull away. Mope. Use bathroom after paying 50 cents euro. Take impromptu shower with cold cold tap water. Pat dry. Sit on train ride back home... with slight blasts of air conditioning!
Join tour group. Feel like bits of cows being herded about. Fall asleep on bus. Arrive in Pisa. Climb leaning tower. Get freaked out at height. Feel drunk as you walk sideways. Arrive in Florence. See a dead pigeon on steps of Santa Croce. See dead pigeon's ribs with the organs missing. Wonder if theres pigeon organ trafficking. Get herded into leather workshop. Jump at prices of leather goods. Find out tour guide is mysteriously Austrian, not Italian. Go for lunch. Eat blandest lasagne on earth. Drink too much wine on an empty stomach. Try, and like Italian coffee. Visit Santa Croce. Get annoyed with new tour guide and tune into the other groups' tour guide on the ear pieces given. Give up and walk off. Buy a candle. Pray. Look for Machiavelli's tomb. Find it being renovation. Take a picture anyway. Buy a postcard of his grave, so you can actually see what it looks like. Give up on tour group completely and wander away. Find statue of David. Find Ponte Vecchio. Eat hazelnut and pistachio gelato. Stumble upon Il Duomo. Get blown away by how majestic it looks. Get blown away by the crowd to get in. Vow to come back and visit again. Go back to Santa Croce. Buy a scarf. Board the bus back. Get back. Eat dinner. Take more photos. Talk to Sameer. Sleep away.
Wake up in transit. Feel ship in choppy water. See white caps. Eat formal lunch. Wander about. Read. Pack. Arrive in Barcelona. Watch Captain Cornelli's Mandolin. Feel sad, but not as sad as watching The Duchess. Stay on board ship. Meet Ivan in library. Get list of recommended places to visit in Barcelona. Go for dinner. Take more pictures. Watch performance during farewell dinner. Feel sad. Say good bye to Sameer, Arun and the other people who served us during the cruise. Reminiscence about the magic tricks Arun did during the trip to entertain us. Sleep. Wake up. Pack more. Eat the last Scottish Eggs Benedict. Look for Arun, but not find him. Linger about in cabin. Leave cruise ship. Board taxi. Arrive at Holiday Inn Express. Admire how clean and nice Barcelona looks compared to Italy. Be awed by their subway system. Be awed by La Sagrada Familia. Take train to Barcelona's version of Via Veneto. Buy new SD card because SD card has run out of space. Walk about Barri Gotic and the Cathedral. Look for Museum. Walk about more looking for a non smoking eating place. Have paella, tapas and a San Mig. Enjoy Jamon Iberico ham immensely. Take train back towards La Pau (isn't that such an awesome name? LA PAU!). Get back to hotel. Watch MTV in German. Shower. Sleep.
Wake up. Get mini tour of Barcelona by taxi driver. Arrive at airport. Run into trouble because there's no proof I'm flying out of the USA. Get problem solved. Board plane 2 hours late. Praise God for more On Demand movies. Watch My Life in Ruins. Vow to go to Athens. Sleep. Watch Star Trek. Read and finish The Cellist of Sarajevo. Watch The Simpsons. Watch Mulan. Arrive in Newark late. Wait ages for baggage to come out. Run from baggage claim to customs. Run from customs to the transit counter. Get told plane is still boarding. Run from transit counter to security. Take of shoes. Run from security in sock clad feet clutching dirty converses. Run on travellators. Feel pain. Arrive out of breath at boarding gate to amazed airline workers. Become last to board plane that has a total of 9 rows. Wait on tarmac for 30 minutes. Get into the air. Arrive in Philadelphia after 20 minutes. Watch as baggage is unloaded... to find ours isn't there. Drive back. Eat instant noodles for dinner. Go to WalMart and buy clothes. Go home. Sleep. Rest. Wait for baggage to come the next day.
In essence the past 12? 13? days have been rather exciting and jam packed. Thus I take the liberty to be really lazy and type in short sharp bursts of words, with the tenses all over the place too.
-----
Flying at night from Philadelphia to De Gaulle. On demand movies that called out your name and prevented you from sleeping. Blast of cold icy Parisian air from bus to terminal. Flight to Venice. Blast of sticky heat stroke Venetian air. Board ship. Be wowed. Feel tired. Take photos. Run about Venice. Take a gondolier ride. Eat a tiramisu ice cream. Look at masks. Get hit by a flying pigeon. Board ship. Gorge self silly for dinner. Sleep for 12 hours. Wake up for boat drill. Flop about like a fat penguin in a neon orange life vest. Forget the rest of the day. Prepare for formal night. Attend dance/singing show. Eat more dinner again. Meet table mates. Laugh. Take photos. Meet photo shop Sameer. Repeat for 10x more days in various exotic locales.
Discover the Mediterrean is hot as hell. Discover Europeans have not heard of air conditioning before. Discover ties first came from Croatia. Discover not all Greek islands have white houses and blue roofs. Discover a random Asian Art museam on Corfu. Discover Captain Cornelli's Mandolin was filmed on Argostoli. Take a belated interest in Argostoli after complaining about the heat the entire time we were there. Enjoy buying 1.50 euro large bottle of coke from the Argostoli supermarket. Find a racist nigger rapper doll. Find racist doll sings 50 cent's In Da Club. Discover seas so aquamarine blue and clear it looks like a dream. See wind farms from the ship's deck. Feel tired multiple times in between. Sunbathe somewhere in between. Spend too much time lying on belly during subathing. Shower and find out that you're now two-toned. Watch The Big Lebowski. Ride a donkey up to Santorini. See white houses and blue roofs. Swear never to ride donkeys again. Admire little alleys. Decide to come back again, for perhaps a Summer job?
Go to Sicily. Find out why Sicily is such a popular gangster haunt (It's a dump. Looks like Manila.) Find out that Syracuse is too far to drive from Catania. Discover the Aragon family has roots in Catania. Wonder how the ancient royals survived the heat in their multiple petticoats. Visit a fort. Admire how bad Sicilian drivers are. Admire how crappy Sicily is. Learn that Sicily is but a small representation of the whole of Italy. Marvel at how chaotic Naples is. Marvel at how chaotic Rome is. Marvel at how they remind one of Nepal. Suffer through train rides in airless smothering heat. See Versuvius. See old lava. Enjoy cool air rushing past hot skin. Run away from hot, but B.O. smelly shirtless blonde guy. Marvel at how large Pompeii is. Rush about from locale to locale in Pompeii. Debate whether place is a public toilet or kitchen. Rush back to train station. Frantically look for clothes that cover scandalous knees and arms. Get annoyed at legs that are too long because dresses don't cover the knees.
Rewear dress worn on Corfu. Buy a shawl to wrap around shoulders. Wake up early. Listen to car blaring techno music on the way to the train station. Sit on train. Open windows. See Vatican. Kick self upon the realisation that Oxford probably looks like the Vatican. Queue to see St Peters. Sweat like crazy in shawl and dress. Laugh when sleeveless, knee revealing women get chased away. Marvel at St Peters. Feel like praying. Visit Vatican Museum. Walk through halls like a herd of sweat sticky sheep. Get pushed from place to place by the crowd till we reach the Sistine Chapel. Get yelled at to shush by Vatican guards. Get pushed out of Sistine by the crowd. Eat goopy flavourless undercooked pasta for 5 euros in the cafeteria. Gape at how rich the Catholic Church must be. Rush to Spanish steps. Rush to Church of bones, to find it closed. Skip about happily at seeing Via Veneto. Get stared at by local after repeating Via Veneto repeatedly. Rush to Colosseum. Buy a frozen bottle of water for 2 euros. Lap at water to moment it melts in the bottle. Rush to forum. Pretend you know what ruins you're staring at. Wish Tourism Ministry put some effort into providing information on ruins. Rush to Panthenon. Gape at how this isn't the Panthenon you envisioned. Realise Pantheon invision is in Athens, not Rome. Ride a local bus to the train station. Run to train to see it pull away. Mope. Use bathroom after paying 50 cents euro. Take impromptu shower with cold cold tap water. Pat dry. Sit on train ride back home... with slight blasts of air conditioning!
Join tour group. Feel like bits of cows being herded about. Fall asleep on bus. Arrive in Pisa. Climb leaning tower. Get freaked out at height. Feel drunk as you walk sideways. Arrive in Florence. See a dead pigeon on steps of Santa Croce. See dead pigeon's ribs with the organs missing. Wonder if theres pigeon organ trafficking. Get herded into leather workshop. Jump at prices of leather goods. Find out tour guide is mysteriously Austrian, not Italian. Go for lunch. Eat blandest lasagne on earth. Drink too much wine on an empty stomach. Try, and like Italian coffee. Visit Santa Croce. Get annoyed with new tour guide and tune into the other groups' tour guide on the ear pieces given. Give up and walk off. Buy a candle. Pray. Look for Machiavelli's tomb. Find it being renovation. Take a picture anyway. Buy a postcard of his grave, so you can actually see what it looks like. Give up on tour group completely and wander away. Find statue of David. Find Ponte Vecchio. Eat hazelnut and pistachio gelato. Stumble upon Il Duomo. Get blown away by how majestic it looks. Get blown away by the crowd to get in. Vow to come back and visit again. Go back to Santa Croce. Buy a scarf. Board the bus back. Get back. Eat dinner. Take more photos. Talk to Sameer. Sleep away.
Wake up in transit. Feel ship in choppy water. See white caps. Eat formal lunch. Wander about. Read. Pack. Arrive in Barcelona. Watch Captain Cornelli's Mandolin. Feel sad, but not as sad as watching The Duchess. Stay on board ship. Meet Ivan in library. Get list of recommended places to visit in Barcelona. Go for dinner. Take more pictures. Watch performance during farewell dinner. Feel sad. Say good bye to Sameer, Arun and the other people who served us during the cruise. Reminiscence about the magic tricks Arun did during the trip to entertain us. Sleep. Wake up. Pack more. Eat the last Scottish Eggs Benedict. Look for Arun, but not find him. Linger about in cabin. Leave cruise ship. Board taxi. Arrive at Holiday Inn Express. Admire how clean and nice Barcelona looks compared to Italy. Be awed by their subway system. Be awed by La Sagrada Familia. Take train to Barcelona's version of Via Veneto. Buy new SD card because SD card has run out of space. Walk about Barri Gotic and the Cathedral. Look for Museum. Walk about more looking for a non smoking eating place. Have paella, tapas and a San Mig. Enjoy Jamon Iberico ham immensely. Take train back towards La Pau (isn't that such an awesome name? LA PAU!). Get back to hotel. Watch MTV in German. Shower. Sleep.
Wake up. Get mini tour of Barcelona by taxi driver. Arrive at airport. Run into trouble because there's no proof I'm flying out of the USA. Get problem solved. Board plane 2 hours late. Praise God for more On Demand movies. Watch My Life in Ruins. Vow to go to Athens. Sleep. Watch Star Trek. Read and finish The Cellist of Sarajevo. Watch The Simpsons. Watch Mulan. Arrive in Newark late. Wait ages for baggage to come out. Run from baggage claim to customs. Run from customs to the transit counter. Get told plane is still boarding. Run from transit counter to security. Take of shoes. Run from security in sock clad feet clutching dirty converses. Run on travellators. Feel pain. Arrive out of breath at boarding gate to amazed airline workers. Become last to board plane that has a total of 9 rows. Wait on tarmac for 30 minutes. Get into the air. Arrive in Philadelphia after 20 minutes. Watch as baggage is unloaded... to find ours isn't there. Drive back. Eat instant noodles for dinner. Go to WalMart and buy clothes. Go home. Sleep. Rest. Wait for baggage to come the next day.
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