This morning started with cold cuts on top of meat pate on top of fresh bread. Breakfast of champions, and also of future triple-bypass patients. My mom, dad, bro and I then piled into our vehicle and drove over to my crazy grandma’s house to go hang out with my uncle, Satan (who is slowly growing on me, despite her severe lack of gray matter), Mladen, Jelena, and my grandma. It was a lot of Martincevic under one roof. What this translates to is a constant intentional mispronunciation of every possible word in both English and Bosnian, bad puns being thrown around like a cheap whore and a general disregard for being normal. It’s awesome seeing people that actually share your genes, who are also as insane as you are!
ZORAN HUMOUR BREAK
We drove past a cow with its entire back end covered in what we presumed was shit and dirt. My dad turned to my brother and me, saying “that is where we get chocolate milk from.” Cue groans. My mother then decides to directly translate how my dad described the cow…which ended up being “that is one shitty cow.” We laughed for a good 10 minutes. You sorta had to be there, but if you know my father, just imagine him doing this. You’ll be entertained.
THE WORLD IS CRUMBLING
Today, we went to a restaurant that served so much meat, that even I LOST MY APPETITE. The main entryway was lined by a display freezer of EVERY PART OF EVERY ANIMAL EVER…but DEAD. I half-ate my chicken, and then died on the inside. Well, actually, what made me lose my appetite was my crazy grandma (she was eating fried beef GLANDS) saying “this reminds me of the smell of killing lambs.” At that point, it was a miracle I didn’t introduce the entire table to the contents of my stomach. This was at a gigantic Martincevic family dinner…where EVERYONE LOOKS LIKE ME! I need to get these pics up on facebook, because the resemblance is actually hilarious. Minus the women that married into the family.
SPELLCHECK FAIL
On their menu, they meant to write “Teleći slatkiši,”- sweeter bits of veal, I believe – as “Veal sweet.” This, in and of itself, is linguistically retarded; however, it being Bosnia and all, they had to misspell something in a truly impressive fashion. What was written on the menu, in capitals, was VEAL SWEAT. Mmm, appetizing. Mmm, appetizing.
After a brief stay at the country slaughterhouse that was our restaurant, we went to Vrelo Bosne (Bosnian Springs) and rented a 4-person bicycle. Yes. Two tandems, side-by side with a wheel to control it. Mladen and Jelena, my cousin and his new wife, my brother and I took to the challenge with great zeal…for the first 10 minutes. After that, we were so dead tired, that we barely made it the rest of the half hour. Endurance win! I always love going to the springs because the novelty of drinking pure, clean water directly from its source is never lost on me. I also love the swans.
I can’t even remember if I’ve written everything or not. Stuff’s happened, I’ve eaten a lot, hung out with my grandparents some, seen my friends a whole bunch…you know. No super-poor decisions, but tomorrow, I am going to smuggle booze into a theatre for the evening showing of Bruno. That is sure to turn out disastrously! =D
Laku Noć, chums.
Basically, when I hit the motherlands, several things happen:
1. My bloodstream completes its transformation into espresso
2. I don’t really believe in seeing my immediate family anymore (grandparents don’t count)
3. I recall exactly why I always gain weight here
So, within the first couple of minutes of our arrival, my grandma reminds me exactly why she is so great. A button on my mother’s shirt came undone, and she, scandalized, hastily buttoned it back up. My grandmother, ever the liberal, says, “why are you doing that back up?! It’s not like anyone’s going to take it! What’s in there is still yours!” <3
Also, about 15 minutes later, we were treated to a MASSIVE feast, and toasted with rakija. Rakija that smells like pears, but tastes like fire. My mom was scandalized, yet again, that I was drinking alcohol. It’s like being eternally 12, or “17 again,” but I am not Zac Efron, or Matthew Perry, and I suck ass at basketball.
There isn’t much to be said about my visit here so far, as all I’ve been doing is drinking coffee and hanging out with what’s left of my high school crew. And eating. Oh my jesus. Eating. Cevapi, burek, cevapi, burek. SO GOOD. Mind you, I may come back twice as large. I am warning you now. The weather here’s been fucking insane though; around 9 pm, ever night, there is a freak downpour that even the most awesome of umbrellas cannot handle. Basically, I am soaked clean through from walking to my friend’s car from our fave café. THAT IS 20 METRES. 20. TWENTY.
Sarajevo is starting to build new buildings and generally up its class, but it’s a long way from being anything drastic. However, it is a step in the right direction. Most people have stopped dressing like assholes, which I appreciate, but walking to Carsija is always an unpleasant reminder of why white lipstick and monochrome hot pink outfits are solely reserved for clowns and Halloween. The men still love those damn mancapris, but I think that is a Euro thing that will NEVER DIE. In other news, my ego has been hanging out in the Stratosphere (I love being attractive to my people), brought only back down by my most of my family’s casual reminders of “honey, you need to lose a few pounds.” Whatever. I am not in Sarajevo to lose weight when there is all this meat to be eaten.
Anyway, fuck that. What is more important is that I taught my Bosnian friends the importance of the phrases “that’s what she said!” and “YOUR MOM!” in everyday life. That, and how much I suck at conjugating verbs and declining nouns when I’m tired. Heyo. That’s it for my super-brief summary of 5 days in Sarajevo…all you need to know is that things are pretty awesome.
…in which my uncle explains EU politics.
05/07/2009
Today began with my uncle Ivica showing up with Satan, my aunt. We all went down to the beach together (for the record, that is about 100m downhill), but my bro and I were the only ones to actually go in the water; the adults stayed in the beachside café and discussed things of much importance (read: trivial crap, as Satan does not know how to discuss real people things). Berto and I stayed in the water for near 3 hours, which is preposterous. I played volleyball in the water with a bunch of random Czechs (prrr), and also catch with my little bro. OH MAN, also, when I had swam (that word seems poorly conjugated to me, but I am tired, so shut up) out to play catch with Berto, this overwhelming smell of beer hit me. What was it? A group of 8 drunk, GIGGLING Czech men sitting on a bunch of dinghies they were holding together. Needless to say, I was pretty much immediately in love with them.
After all this activity, he and I were starving, so naturally, we tanned for 45 minutes first. Only then did we go back home and whine to our parents about being hungry. Swimming and treading water for 3 hours makes you tired (who knew?!), so my brother and I were dozing off at the restaurant…the two of us went home to take a nap while the ye olds sat around and drank coffee. I thought that was hilarious. I napped for about 3 hours, as I have become a toddler again, and then woke up to watch the Wimbledon finals. I hope to hell Federer won.
FUN FACT: We watched until the 5th set was 11-11, then we fucked off to go eat, as eating >> tennis on tv.
We went to our fave café again, had cappuccinos and cake, and then said goodbye to Ivica and Satan. I am excited though, because we do get to see them again in about a week, when they come to Sarajevo to visit my crazy grandma.
GLORIOUS QUOTATION OF THE NIGHT:
My father mentions how the Slovenians are charging criminal amounts for their highway vignettes and my uncle responds with this:
“You know, the only reason they let those damn Slovenians into the EU is because the Austrians needed someplace to park their cars. I mean, it’s a pretty useless country; you can’t blink when you’re driving through, or you’ll miss it.”
And that, ladies and gents, is why I love him to bits. I also love you guys.
P.S. I want to move to the Czech Republic. They produce quality offspring. Also maybe Austria, as a – no exaggeration – horde of dishy, yacht-renting men in their 20s arrived today to grace us with their German-speaking presence.
P.P.S. I am telling my hormones to stop, but they just won’t.
P.P.P.S. Your mom.
P.P.P.P.S. Having your parents with you at the coast is like being cockblocked 24/7. Something along the lines of wearing an iron chastity belt and being put inside of a bubble at the same time.
P.P.P.P.P.S. MS Word doesn’t believe in the word “cockblock.” It suggests I put “cookbook” instead. Very well, MS Word, we will have it your way. Having your parents with you at the coast is like being cookbooked 24/7.
I am the main feeding zone for coastal mosquitoes, I have discovered. By coastal mosquitoes, I mean…mosquitoes in general. Fml. However, I can’t really complain, as the sea water has cleared up my skin beautifully, and I am already starting to get a solid tan. So much win!
FUN FACT: My hair has decided to be curly.
FUN FACT #2: I have begun mixing Italian, Spanish, German, Croatian/Bosnian, English and French regularly, without noticing. Listening to me speak is like being at an EU conference without a translator.
This morning, I finally got to sleep in, and in doing so, realized my body has forgotten what that entails. I woke up at 9:30. In comparison to 7 am, I suppose that technically IS sleeping in, but fuck it. My parents had left already to go look at apartments, so my brother and I got ready to go to the beach on our own. We frolicked, played some more picigin, checked out men in tiny little Speedo shorts (well, I did), swam, and played our new favourite game: “Let’s drown each other!” It was good times all around, and then my parents decided to show up. I discovered that my little brother and I only get along in the complete absence of my ‘rents. The moment they show up, or are in our general vicinity, he starts being a douche, I become irritable, and we hate each other again. Whoo! Nothing else remarkable happened today, unless you consider showering and eating as notable events. We went to the downtown area after dinner again, and had coffee in our fave café…basically, we’ve settled into the standard coastal routine of relaxation, where the only decisions we have to make have to do with determining exactly at what time we will eat/sleep/swim/drink coffee. I loooove my life.
I’m off to sleep now, as my uncle and Satan are dropping by tomorrow morning. Tschuß!
…moj galebe.
03/07/2009
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAJA! You know I love you despite the fact the damn post office closed before I had the chance to call you and wish you a real people happy birthday over the phone. <3
So, I woke up this morning, at 6:30, of my own accord. Wtf. After realizing I was indeed awake, I (quite literally) stumbled out of my bed, tried to walk straight, did a little loop in the middle of the living room, and then wobbled over to find the bathroom and 457 L of water. After breakfast and a bottle of water, I was right as rain, and ready for a trip in the vee-hickel of transport.
The drive was lovely yet again, and passed remarkably quickly. We arrived in Makarska around noon, ready for some fooding. Oh my god, guys, there is nothing like the smell of pine and salty water. I honestly died a little inside when we rolled down our windows. Every time we come to the coast, it feels like I’m coming home. We got settled into our rented apartment super quickly, anxious to get to the beach. I definitely threw off my skirt (I don’t believe in shirts at the coast) like it was made of mosquitoes, sprinted across the beach, and threw myself in the water. Oooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, you don’t even understand how good it felt. I am a happy panda now. After a lovely game of picigin, and some swimming, we got out of the water to get our tan on. After falling asleep on the beach, I established that going back to a real bed may just be what I need. I slept from 4 to 6:30, showered, changed, and then we headed out to enjoy the nightlife. On our way back from the downtown area, we stopped on the beach to just sit, stare at the waves rolling in and admire the whole moonlit shebang. Gahhh, pretty. Crew, we need to come here together.
Just breathing the air here has made me feel infinitely more at peace with everything. At this point, it’s not even the coast that makes me feel this good; it’s Europe itself. This is, hands down, where I belong. The temperament, the charm, the surroundings, and the style of life…everything just fits. I love all these crazy bastards, even my people (just not the hicks). It’s near midnight now, so I’m going to go to bed and actually sleep in, for once…adios, amigos y amigas!
…”have you ever shot a moose?”
02/07/2009
Well, I am writing this a full day later, as I was in no state to coherently express anything last night (as the ladies may or may not have remarked, given my hideous spelling and/or typing in the thread). The fam and I woke up in Venice, 10 minutes before our 7 am alarm, because we’re insane. We had brekkie, and then set off on the autostrada that our GPS didn’t recognize. Nothing remarkable happened on the way there, minus the fact that we ate at a rest stop that actually had a Marche in it – EXACTLY like the one in the Rideau centre. No joke; it was the same company and everything, but this one was in Slovenia. We ate every meal in a different country this time, which my whole family found entertaining.
FUN FACT: We have seen license plates from 21 countries on the roads from Rome to here. Awesome.
We hit Zagreb at around noon, and I immediately called up Marko to get our plans on. At around 5 pm, he and I met up for dinner, ice cream and some wanderings, with the intention of going out with his hooligans somewhere around 10. Several spontaneous downpours and much wandering later, we hit up the bar called “Wrong Way,” and sat down to wait for his crew.
FUN FACT: A bottle of beer about 100 mL more than standard Canadian bottles costs about 3$ in bars. Love it.
The goons arrived a little later than expected, probably due to the fact that they were all pretty wasted to begin with. I had only had one beer by this point, and really wasn’t feeling anything; however, this didn’t stop me from joining in a few rousing rounds of drunken renditions of Croatian trash pop hits. Most of the night was spent singing and yelling things in various poor accents, with British and Texan being the most common. Guess who was the one yelling shit about shooting cows in a southern accent? Apparently, the more I drink, the more convinced I am that I’m from a small farm outside of Dallas. I also temporarily became an Australian Scot at some point in the night. That’s another matter entirely, though. I also may or may not have yelled “SHAQUILLE!” an inordinate amount of times. In between yelling all this random shit, many beers were downed by all (I stopped at fairly early, in all fairness), and many stupid questions were asked. Case in point: the subject line of this entry. Other questions: “Do you make fun of eskimos?” “Do you own an axe?” The highlight of the evening had to be when one of Marko’s friends used an old bill to ‘cut’ ashes and do lines. Yes. Ashes, as in, from an ashtray. I shit you not. Snorted. I love Europe. And those kids. I also am pretty sure I fed one of his friends beer like I would have a child with a bottle of milk later. One of the boys kept talking about steel, I think? There is nothing quite like being part of the loud, obnoxious group of joyous drunks that the entire bar wants to stab in the eyes. My life is awesome.
Oh, and at one point, we went behind the bar to walk on the train tracks. Good idea? But of course.
FUN FACT: These are the tracks about 100 m from the main train station. That is to say, they are heavily in use at all times of day.
FUN FACT #2: I think I’m the only person that eats chocolate while drinking beer.
Nothing quite says class like trying to walk on a train track, wobbling helplessly while clutching a half-empty bottle of beer (there is no such thing as optimism when there is less than a full container of beer) and saying things about cow tippin’. I got home somewhere around 2, I believe, and fell asleep around 3? Perhaps. In any case, it was a friggin awesome night. Shame I was only in town for one night, though, dammit.
They actually sound like that! It’s hilarious to listen to them try to explain directions (I’m a terrible person, but you knew this already). They’re also convinced that saying okay after every sentence, both yours AND theirs, makes everything clearer. News flash: WTF, no. Anyway, today’s missions were Pisa and Venezia. We were up at the crack of 7 am, dressed and breakfasted by 7:45, and out the door.
Driving to Pisa went smoothly, despite the fact I wanted to throw our GPS (which we named “Šefica”) out the window for repeating the phrase “Enter the roundabout” about 4 hundred times. Actually, this has been a recurring theme in Italy…there are roundabouts EVERYWHERE, DAMMIT. Anyway. All rage aside, it was a good drive. In other news, I squeed like a little fangirl upon seeing the leaning tower, and took an unnecessary amount of photos. Also, this being my family, we took a series of pictures playing with perspective. Sadly, my mother wouldn’t let me do one with me pretending to knock down the tower with my foot, yelling “THIS ISN’T MADNESS, THIS IS PISSSAAAAAA!” Why, you may ask? I was wearing a skirt. I was initially going to climb those stairs and make the tower my bitch, but the next tour was in 45 minutes. The reason why waiting wouldn’t have been awesome was the fact we actually had to drive to Venezia right after, and we weren’t to have lunch until we arrived. THEREFORE, food won. We left for Venezia, and managed to miss the turnoff for it because our GPS lied (i.e. the new stretch of the autostrada was not loaded to its map). So, while driving on the new stretch of gloriously smooth road, our GPS kept showing our little blue vehicle spinning in circles and driving on farmland. AWESOME. We then got caught in a freak downpour, making my dad infinitely more frustrated than he had been before, so we all shut up for a good 45 minutes.
**Imagination hint: to accurately imagine my father’s face during this episode of our trip, imagine me both pissed off at the rain AND unimpressed with technology, then superimpose that on my father’s face (also add another cm of eyebrow and remove most of my hair). FUN, EH?
We ended up not surviving the trip without food, so we stopped at a roadside grill and got paninis. Yes. More paninis. Christ, they’re delish. Later, we finally arrived in Venezia, parked our car in a giant garage and went on a WATERBUS. YES. A boat. That serves the purpose of the OC Translut. I don’t know if you will be nearly as entertained as I, but who cares? I played “I’m on a boat” for the entire trip, saddened by the fact I didn’t have a nautical-themed pashmina afghan. By the way, I apologize for the lack of continuity that is most likely present in a good 90% of these entries; I’m not exactly focussing on making this a literary masterpiece. That, and this is how I speak/tell stories, so you should be used to it by now.
Sidenote: I am totally wearing red and white today. Makeup included. Fuckyeah!
After a short break period in our sweet (read: ancient and ghetto) hotel room, we went out to investigate la Piazza S. Marco (or something to that effect) and get mauled by pigeons. Later, since we were starving, and saddened that we couldn’t swim in the bit of the Adriatic that touches the city, we went to have dinner. I ordered my fave pizza, con quattro formaggi, because I love cheese, dammit…and what I received can simply be described as pizza dough with a brick of Gorgonzola melted on top. To comprehend the sheer volume of melted cheese undulating (yes, undulating…it was unsettling) on my pizza, imagine the amount of sauce Eleni and I would EACH put on our pasta if we were serving ourselves, combine it, then dump it on a crust. Then sprinkle it with parmigiano. I’m not quite sure where the ‘quattro’ part came into play, but I will assume there were two other cheeses melted into the lake of Gorgonzola. I’m pretty sure that there was an entire ecosystem within that thing.
FUN FACT: I absolutely hated all forms of blue cheese until this trip?
OTHER FUN FACT: My brother has gotten nutella on every single pair of pants he has worn to breakfast.
HAH! Okay, so I remembered something entertaining from when we went to the Vatican: I saw this incredi-bro carrying a pink, flowery parasol as naturally as if it were a beer or something else brotastic (a football?). This was also right in front of St. Peter’s Basilica, making it exponentially more hilarious, for whatever reason.
Tomorrow morning, we leave for Zagreb, and leave touristing behind. Now comes the part of the vacation in which I make poor decisions, like drinking too much, eating shawarma before hanging out with people, and being way too forward. I’m super-excited. After Zagreb, it is time for me to reclaim the glory that is the Croatian coast. Ohhhh mannnnn. Just thinking about it makes me all warm and fuzzy. Man, I never realize how tired I am until I lie down. Frig. My alarm is set to 7 am again, so I’m off to catch some Zs (dumbest expression ever).
HAPPY CANADA DAY, ALL! I hope you had a wicked time and I want to hear all the stories after.
P.S. I bought myself a Murano glass necklace. It is so le pretty. And orange.
…mmm, sexy pasta.
30/06/2009
This morning, we woke at 6:30, completely well-rested, despite the fact our power (and subsequently, air conditioning) went out immediately after I finished yesterday’s entry. To accurately portray how much walking we did over the past several days, I woke up with my calves burning. Yes. MY calves were sore from walking. We set off for Firenze immediately after breakfast, stopping only for a sightseeing fiesta in Siena. For those of you who have never heard of this city, it’s the place where the opening parcour chase scene of Quantum of Solace takes place. The scene also portrays the Palio di Siena, which is a horse race that occurs twice a year. There are 17 neighbourhoods in the city; however, only 10 are represented at each event (I’m assuming there’s some form of qualifier). Each neighbourhood has its own coat of arms and flag, and its own horse in the race, so the rivalry is pretty intense. I wish I could be here for it, but we’re only staying the night, and it takes place the 2nd of July. In any case, that was pretty badawesome. Also, near the Piazza del Campo, there was a store selling “sexy pasta;” that is to say, pasta in the shape of genitalia. Wonderful <3. We drove to Firenze soon after eating paninis for lunch (quelle surprise) and arrived around 3. At that point, I discovered our hotel had free wi-fi and got all excited. That is when I got my facebook/blog on. Heyo!
Later that night, while we were touristing around Firenze (post-dinner), my brother pointed out that we had eaten every meal that day in a different city. Story of my family’s life…and I love it! We visited the Duomo, il Ponte Vecchio and other various old things around the city. Awesome deal. No poor decisions were made today, alas, but I expect Zagreb to be the true kickoff, as I’m going out on the town with Marko. Allllright.
Tomorrow, we leave for Pisa in the morning (look out for <i> </i> jokes on my part), then hit Venezia in the late afternoon. It is now bathing time – ciao!
…”the polizia are a bit more beautiful.”
29/06/2009
FYI…This is post 2/2 today; I broke the two masses of text up for ease of reading.
29.06.2009
Today, we were all up at sunrise, puttering about, and planning out our day. We had breakfast at the hotel, under the lurking eye of the (absolutely terrifying) owner. I felt that if we had looked at her in the wrong way, she would’ve beaten the crap out of us with a cappuccino cup and a danish. Immediately afterwards, we went on an adventure to buy bus tickets so that we could get to the Vatican. I have now officially established that absolutely everything here is gorgeous. The Vatican was absolutely stunning, with St. Peter’s Basilica taking the cake. We didn’t stay inside for very long, since large hordes of people had arrived to attend the holiday mass, but it was enough to marvel at the grandeur of the building and its art. The choir was lovely, though, and we got to see the new pope being pope-y. After frolicking around, we walked to Castle St. Angelo and took some more photos while listening to some Aussies being…themselves. At this point, my mom and I were really curious as to what the difference between the Carabinieri and the Polizia was (we had seen a lot of both over the past two days), so we found some policemen and asked them. Here are the facts: The Carabinieri are more of a local police, whereas the Polizia are state police. What you should also know, as said by the youngest of the three policemen we had consulted, is that “the polizia are a bit more beautiful.” Now you are up to speed.
As far as the rest of the day goes, it was mostly spent doing more touristy biz; that is to say, we actually went INTO the Coliseum and ye olde fangirled before hitting up the Parthenon and several other awesome Piazzas. What is absolutely fascinating about Rome is that no matter where you go, there will be some gigantic, beautifully constructed marble building just hangin’ out. It is usually a church, with hilarious Latin phrases like “Always Immaculate Virgins” carved into the stone above the entrance. The scale of these buildings is preposterous, and completely awe-inspiring. Honestly, just staring at the Parthenon’s marble columns and attempting to fathom their dimensions gave me an aneurysm.
Fun foreign misspelling of the day: “Sanwechees” = “Sandwiches,” apparently.
It’s not even 9 pm, but after 6 solid hours of walking in the sun, I am about ready to collapse. I bid you adieu til tomorrow, and our drive to Firenze!
27-28.06.2009
The day slowly draws to a close and I am hanging out here, in our nearly 15 square metre (haha) hotel room, just chillin’. I am 360 degrees of tired, but I don’t want to go to bed yet, as I’ll wake up at 3 am craving prosciutto, bocconcini and tomatoes. That’s just me, though. Anyway. Our trip started off really well, with a gloriously comfortable flight on a Boeing 767 that actually had LEG ROOM. Airbuses can suck it.
First irrelevant fact of the entry: today was the first time I had ever eaten my airplane dessert (for the record, I absolutely love airplane food).
I sat next to HawkMom, directly behind her two offspring, Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber. When we were 15 minutes from our destination, the girl asked, really loudly, if the body of water below us was the ocean, when a) that is impossible if you know ANY geography, and b) the map 15 cm from her face showed us flying over the MEDITERRANEAN SEA. The duo also said a variety of other equally stupid things throughout the flight, but nothing particularly noteworthy. The stupid quotation of the day instead came from a septuagenarian seated diagonally across the aisle from me. The sunrise over the wing was absolutely gorgeous, and like most of the people on our side of the plane, she wished to have a photo. Given the fact she was too far from the window to get a decent shot, she asked Tweedledumb to take the photo for her because, and I quote, “My friends in Nova Scotia will never believe that it was sunny here when it was near midnight over there!” Apparently, her friends were never introduced to the concept of Earth’s axial rotation…and the fact it is round. Is it Nova Scotia that has its own time zone? Maybe that’s why they’re day/night retarded. I don’t know. In any case, we landed in Leonardo da Vinci airport soon thereafter, and proceeded to try to navigate an airport designed by the bastard offspring of the creator of DDR and a hobo. There were arrows everywhere, but none of them led us to where we wanted to go, and wherever we did end up, was covered with filth. I definitely had huge expectations of the airport and was sorely disappointed. Way to name an ugly and confusing airport after one of the greatest artists of all time, douchewads. However, all our walking was not in vain! I discovered something very crucial: Italian men, contrary to popular belief, are actually good-looking. None of this greasy, furry-chested nonsense. They’re actually attractive. Christ, I love Europe.
We finally got to our hotel, after surviving 45 minutes on Roman roads. There is nothing quite like getting caught in a circus of 13 cars executing some sort of twisted three-man-weave in the middle of a turn. Did I mention there were 4 lanes of cars on a street with only 2 lanes? I’ll let your imaginations fill in the rest.
**Imagination hint: Think of the game Rush Hour, but instead of being completely stationary, it’s happening at 60 km/h with hilariously tiny cars, Vespas, honking and angry Italian men.
For lunch, we had authentic Italian pizza (So. Damn. Good) at a little pizzeria by our hotel, and then we went back to our room to pass out until dinner. After waking and bathing, we got dressed up and headed out to sightsee like good little tourists. I can’t really do any of the locations justice, no matter how hard I try to describe them, so you will have to wait for the (many) photos. All I can say is that it was breathtaking. I wandered the streets, staring up at the architecture like it was about to shower me with money, shoes and carbs. We went to il Colosseo, the Forum of Peace, la Fontana di Trevi and la Piazza de Spagna (I probably spelled these incorrectly), stopping to grab cappuccinos and paninis in between.
Sidenote: The waiter at the panini place was possibly the most entertaining man I have ever come across. He was just so lively and ridiculous that it brought me joy.
Sidenote 2: Everyone was so well-dressed.
On our way back, we came across an orange Lamborghini Gallardo (read: my dream vehicle) and took photos (in my dad’s case) and salivated (in mine). The owner came back as we were walking away, and the sound that car made while driving off made me more than a little happy in the pants. Mmm. Past the street my dream vehicle was parked on, there was a square with a large fountain in the centre. Italy, I am pretty sure, is the only place where a giant golden statue of a naked man kneeling and bathing himself with city water is considered art. After this glorious(ly alarming) sight, we headed back, as both my ankles were roughly the size of mangoes, only stopping to get some gelato at the gelateria directly across the street from our hotel. Awesome. I love Rome so far, and can’t wait to see the Vatican tomorrow! I am going to get my ass to bed now, kiddos.
I leave you with this overheard statement: “I don’t mean to stereotype, but I miss tacos and free water.”
