Rotten Mood Over; Life Evaluation Successful

Yesterday was the day after the bad mood. I found out my uncle died. He was 55; it was probably a heart attack. Death of someone I know always makes me evaluate what I am doing in life, and whether it is what I really want to be doing. And.... I AM!
NOTE: Maybe my bad mood came due to the death of my uncle, and I had yet to realize it.

So I discussed with Larsen a woman's moods and everything is fine. Everyone else was cool already with my bad mood. We drove to the nearest town to get food and water for the day and night, and NOTHING was open. We went to the next town, which was supposed to be bigger and NOTHING was open. It's Sunday, and usually things are closed, but there was no one even around in the towns. Strange. Totally the opposite of what I know from the US. We ended up driving back to Italy, which is only 20 minutes or so away. We found the one supermarket open in the city of Trieste. Nice.

ALERT TO ALL MEN

Yesterday, I awoke from my nap while the camper was driving in Slovenia. I had been wanting some real food all day, without success, and I opened my eyes into a horrible mood. Now, for me this happens a few times a year... the sort of mood that you feel has invaded your body- it captures my normally jovial spirit and replaces it with a scowling bitch. I hate this feeling, but this is life.

All women know of this mood- some more often than others. In addition to all the other fabulous features we enjoy as women (bleeding, pms, gross childbirth, sexual assault, societal double standards regarding everything from power, sex, aging etc.), we get to have unexplainable moods. WOO HOO!

And so, men whom have grown up with sisters or around a lot of women are aware of this, and accept it as truth, like rain, wind, and sun. This is life. Then, there are the other men. These men (or boys, I suppose) have either not spent enough consecutive time with women to know that this is normal, or they are too juvenile to accept it as normal. My crazy swiss friend Larsen happens to be the latter sort, I believe. There has previously been additional female wrath from Rahel, to which he did not seem to accept as a woman's typical mood swings. Now there is me, and I am quite familiar with myself, and know that along with glory (me) there must be blood (my bad mood). I also will include that I am used to being alone every day for a fair share, during which I recharge my social batteries and spirit. And additionally, I am used to running my own show- traveling around the world choosing whatever I want to do and wherever I want to go. On this trip, I have had no time alone and the Swiss to make virtually every decision. So throw that in a glass with the standard sauce of female foul mood and you have quite a nasty cocktail.

NOW HERE IS SOME ADVICE:
If there is a woman you have to be around when she is in a horrible mood, and you go to a store before it closes to buy yourself beer, and she likes beer, has money to give you, and enjoys getting drunk, GET HER SOME FUCKING BEER. It will be a nice gesture, the beer could help alleviate her mood, and if she does not drink it, you, being the complete alcoholic you are, can drink it. No problem.

And so, in some final words regarding the wrath of women- do not take it personally. DO NOT disregard a bad mood as simply crazy, selfish, etc. and dismiss the individual as inferior. Accept it as we women do; something we do not quite understand, nor like, but something we must live with as being the unfortunate givers of all that is life.

To reiterate this in terms for non-native english speakers: Women have bad moods. Women have babies. A woman had you. You are on this earth ONLY because of women. Respect the workings of a woman that wind their way throughout the world.

MOSQUITOES

Ok, so I have this book full of questions, and one of them is, or something to this effect:
If you could make any animal on the planet extinct, which would it be?

I asked my friend Julia this question, maybe she was the first for this question, and she said mosquitoes. I was impressed... It had never dawned on me. Not that I had been thinking about this question for much time anyhow.

So, currently, estimated research shows that I have 3.4 million mosquito bites on my body. They seem to have congregated around my lower ass. Mostly from after the Snoopy Disco outside of Venice, when I was too drunk to feel their bites through the chairs), legs. Ankles, everywhere. Oh, the torture.

Trieste

We left the Venice for Trieste, an Italian city that is very near the Slovenian border. Went to this castle on the Adriatic Sea. Then to the Aunt of Larsen's dad (his dad is originally from Trieste). She cooked for us but just watched us eat, and told me a few times I ate too slow. It was pretty hard to understand her, since I do not really speak Italian, and she uses a dialect on top of it. This dinner experience was completely the opposite of the dinner experience with Larsen's other relatives, just outside of Rome. Awkard, boring, and FULL of language barriers. I can tell you though, that this lady got ripped off twice while visiting New York. Once, with the cab from the airport, and I forget the other time. Or maybe, I never got the full story in the first place. Who knows.

After, we played Risk. I have only played once or twice, over 10 years ago. This time, I reigned as most powerful for much of the game, and almost won. Should have won, really. But.....one must not rush genius. I used to think that Swiss people were all geniuses. Nope, they are just like anyone else. With nice watches, chocolate, and special banks.

Venice

We are camping just across the water from Venice, and went there today. It was really cool, and didn't really smell like I heard it did. I actually didn't smell anything bad at all. I worked some wonders with an attractive, older gondola driver and we got a bit of a deal. I got to steer the gondola. It apparently takes 2 years of school or something before you can get your gondola driving license. It would be the best job ever; paying really well, allowing you to meet people from all over, and getting to yell to all your gondola friends that you pass. Also, I saw the church where the body of the stolen saint is, but there was a line and much better things to see, so I did not go in.

There was also a disco at the campground. Rahel and Bjorn rented a hotel room in Venice so they could fuck, so Prisco, Larsen, and myself got wasted and went to the disco. Prisco expected it to be what he called a "Snoopy Disco". Apparently, when he was young, he went to a disco for kids that played music from peanuts cartoons. He danced. oh how cute.

It was a snoopy disco, kind of, but instead of little kids, there were big kids... TONS of drunk barely legal english kids running around cross-dressing, wearing spandex wrestling onesies, etc.

Every Now And Then I Like to Play A Trick

We are on our way to Venice... today there was a lot of driving, and the mountains are grander now than the large hills before. We tried to go to an amusement park, we saw on the highway, because Larsen really likes “octobons” (sounds like autobon). Aka rollercoasters. I have been tricking him since into thinking the english word is “rollersoaker”, not rollercoaster. He keeps saying rollercoaster anyway cause the word is in his brain correctly, but I am trying to change that. Oh, he also says “make satisfaction” for masterbate. Seriously. I guess he got it from the Rolling Stones song or something, and technically, it is right. And too funny.

The park was closing soon, and we eventually stopped in the mountains for really good food. Oh, it was so good- my pasta had gorgonzola cream sauce. I did not like the walnuts in it. And I had raw veal (carpacchio) for the first time. And I was ok with it. The town we ended up parking in had canals and bridges like Venice. It was pretty. And pretty boring too. Tomorrow we camp near Venice and take care of some business- computer stuff (I still have to cancel my verizon for my remaining trip,

Tuscany

We are in Tuscany. It is pretty, as expected. We tried driving through this tiny town, and this lady cop who was hot stopped us, and tried for a half hour to give Larsen a ticket for driving the large camper through the town, which apparently prohibits this. She had her ticket pad out and everything, saying it would be 60 or 70 Euros. He pretended he didn't understand and didn't speak Spanish (which would have helped since she only spoke Italian), and after a while, she just gave up. We left, and went to Montelcino- a little town famous for its wine, apparently. It was more touristy and less quaint than the place we were in before. There was a perfume shop, where I sprayed myself with 6 perfumes. We parked in the countryside for the night, ate veal scallopini (cooked by Larsen under my guidance), pasta salad (my 3rd hit, and so easy), mushrooms in parmesan, and drank lots of wine from the nearest restaurant.

Bolsena

We left Rome for lake in the hills. Lake Bolsena has a town that shares its name. It met all the stereotypes I held for small-town Italy; beautifully quaint archetecture, narrow, winding,cobblestone streets, the best produce, and of course, no where to get food for much of the day and night. Lazy Italians. There is a waterfront, with restaurants and bars. And lots of places to get gelato. Basically, every other storefront in the Italy I have seen is a gelateria.
The place with a pool table (that I did ok on) has one euro wine. Nice. Saturday, I made the soup I like, with red peppers I roast, beans, and some vegetables. It was a hit.

The Swiss people have never been fishing before, and they have 2 poles from their friends.Today, Larsen and I brought one down to the water. He also brought some gross worms that Bjorn bought the previous night. The worms were meal worms- tiny, not the size worms that I think people fish with. And when I would go fishing growing up, we would use fish as bait, or fake lures. Not worms. They gross me out. Anyhow, I was all ready to teach him how to cast, when he insisted one baiting the hook. But he wouldn't touch the worms. I really didn't want to either. He said he would get me a Long Island iced tea if I did it. I tried, but it did not happen. The worms were too small to get on the hook, and they were squirming around so much I couldn't hold on to them for more than 15 seconds. No Long Island. And no more fishing today, since Larsen did not want to do anything for practice. He is under the impression that people who go fishing actually catch fish. Which I know is the case sometimes, but in this lake, nope.

I made 2 pastas- one with veggies in a creamy white, garlic basil sauce, and another simple pasta salad for the next day। I am very happy with how the first one came out, since it was spontaneous, using whatever was around, and it was another hit. Woo hoo! We finally did some fire stuff, on the beach. Rahel used her firehoop for the first time, Bjorn did a fire stick thing, and I used my hoop. They had this pink fuel Larsen bought that smelled like tequila. It is great for beginners who are not used to flames, but for me it was too mild; the flame is not as vibrant and the adrenaline does not hit me as strongly as it does with other fuels. Plus, I hold tequila so dearly to my heart that I don't want to smell a fuel and think of it.

P.S. I really was under the impression that we would be doing fire shows on the street. This is not the case, as of yet. I don't mind though, since I am having fun.

Some Juicy Info

NOTE: I not only enjoy edge in a man, I require it. But please remember, as some Italian douche did not, that there is a line between being witty and jovial while hitting on a girl, and being an obvious shmuck while hitting on a girl. Guys like this will never get this.

After the Back to the campground, for more wine. Then Rahel and Larsen argued for a long time in Swiss-German about who driving situation. Rahel got very heated. And Larsen was stubbornly calm. Which I am sure irritated Rahel even more. (I have included a picture of Larsen and Rahel. Background info: Larsen is friends with Bjorn since they were in Kindergarden. Rahel and Bjorn have dated for 10 years)

The Junky Vatican

We awoke early today to catch the shuttle to the train, which is only running a certain amount of hours today due to the workers' strike. I am ok with strikes, and I am very ok with unions. We visited the Vatican. We walked through a million rooms with some art from Raphael and a whole bunch of other people; it took forever to get to the actual Sistene Chapel, and by the time I was there I was literally sitting down on a bench, passing out. Getting up early in the morning is really not my thing. By noon, when we left, I was drinking a Red Bull.

I am not particularly interested in traditional, religious art. And now, a reconfirmation- I am not pleased with the Catholic Empire. The Vatican makes 14 euro off of each person who walks through their doors. Plus more money for audio-tours, gift shops, food, drinks, etc. There is a line from morning til night to get into the place, so tens of thousands of people. And the people of Rome pay a small percentage of their taxes to the Vatican. Yet the Vatican does not pay any taxes- not even on the commercial sale of souvenirs and blahblah. And then, besides all of the other ways the Catholic Church gets money, think of those poor devout people who follow the rule of giving 10% of their income to the church when the collection plate goes around. If you add all of these things up, it is just ridiculous. An anti-gay, anti-choice, anti-condom, anti-everything getting all this money that it does not deserve. I paid to get in, but I am done with churches. Unless there is a dead saint's body part under glass, or some event like a wedding or funeral, I am not granting this institution the privilege of my attention.
We saw some other stuff, such as The Pantheon, which was cool. Until the 60's it was the biggest sphere in the world. I enjoyed it. We saw some other stuff too. Then we went to a few bars.

In Addition, The Strangest Thing Happened

NOTE: I WAS SHOT TODAY BY AN UNKNOWN ASSAILANT
We were waiting, hanging out in the park at Larsen's relatives place, and I was napping in the sun. I had my book covering my eyes, and then all of a sudden I was brought out of slumber with a jab of pain. Instantaneously I heard this noise, like “joont”. Like a shot, but not a gun shot. Not sure what. Oh the pain at first! But what was it that hit me? Where did it go? I was so confused in the following seconds, and then Rahel asked what the noise was. She was kind of alarmed too, just cause the noise was so fast and strange. I told her I was in pain, and this 2 inch-long, one cilimeter welt appeared on my shoulder. I am so glad she heard it, otherwise I would think I was crossing the line from good crazy to bad crazy. We looked up to the condos, where someone could have shot something. We couldn't see anyone, but judging by the angle, that is where a shot would come from. But what was it? I don't know anything about bee bee guns. I don't know anything about potato guns. A slingshot? I will never know. Either way, this event was very disturbing, but much less so since Rahel heard the shot too.
Today, the mechanic fixed the camper.... not a big problem. I had this really nice kiwi-pear juice. I may be in love. We are now camping in this luxury camping place. With a bar, restaurant, a pool, good store,etc. I went in the pool today, read more of I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell,(my new favorite book besides Confederacy of Dunces), and I got to watch these adorable babies hang with their parents from Greenland. I really don't know what I am going to do when hell freezes over and I decide I want to spawn. Get cats, perhaps. Or tell my sister her biological clock is ticking and she better get on it. Yes, that may work. Tomorrow the metro workers go on strike, so we are going to catch a campground shuttle to Rome at 7am. I am not drinking tonight so I can actually do as I said in the previous sentence. Oh boy, I used to drink everyday. Not no more. My Swiss friends cooked an amazing dinner- salad with this good dressing Rahel made, pork chops with good something, spaghetti, and huge blocks of marinated goat cheese grilled in tinfoil. Woohoo! Will you guys still like me if I return to the U.S. chunk full of cheese? Maybe my hugs would get better. I am exhausted. I wish the store was open so I could get something chocolately. On the rag, wanting chocolate. And I like pink, clothes, flowers, and Beverly Hills 90210. I tell myself I would make a good man, but really....not so much I suppose.
P.S. I just asked my friends if they knew whether the bar sold candy or not (the store is closed). And...wouldn't you know- they have chocolate! Chocolate pralines and fancy little gold-labeled chocolate sticks in different flavors like hazelnut, coffee, etc. So, it's confirmed... the Swiss are superior.

Made It To Rome

We finally made it to Rome! We got out of the subway and BAM! There is the collosseum. It is cooler than I thought. (I wasn't planning on being impressed- this is kind of a technique I try to use in many realms of my life so I can avoid disappointment... it works most of the time). We didn't do any real, official sight-seeing since it was 5 or 6pm, but just walking around the streets, you can see the ruins of the empire. We found an Irish Bar, and instead of getting a Guiness (which is my preferred mass-produced beer) I got a Long Island; it is quite refreshing at dusk, and why not drink the drink that was invented in my hometown, at the Canoe Place Inn down the street, while I am sitting in Rome? It wasn't quite made properly, but I did get a buzz... nice. We left to find a different bar and came across the MOST beautiful fountain I have ever seen. I am not just saying that because I want to make Rome sound like a nice place- I really liked this thing. The fountains I usually see are of women. Like the one in Antigua, Guatemala with the water coming out of the ladies' tits. This huge fountain had men all sculpted into it. I will tell you more when I go back. And I will go back, cause I didn't get to really concentrate on the fountain (I also told this friend that I would make a wish for him with a coin and stuff since he asked me to). I was distracted by the foreign men (from India or Sri Lanka or somewhere like that I think) shooting bubble guns. Yes, bubble guns! For those of you who do not know, at times I am bubble master and one of my parlor tricks involves bubbles and smoke. I have been wanting a bubble gun for a long time, and when I finally bought one, it did not work.;( I have been hesitant to buy another one if it will just be another piece of junk.
These bubble guns, however, were not pieces of junk. So, after talking the guy down to 5Euros, and getting him to give me batteries, I bought one. Which lead me to be swarmed by these men, with all these different toys that would be lots of fun on certain party occasions. I really enjoyed the pack of gum that electrocuted your finger when you went to grab it. It is much better than my fake pack of gum. But, I did not buy it. The bubble gun excited me enough, and I know it isn't faulty cause I made the guy test mine out before. Note: After so much time in Guatemala, I am also a bargain master. At the bar where I got the Long Island iced tea, I also haggled this not-so-pleasant African guy from 30 Euro to 5 for this bracelet I like that matches my current favorite jewelry and wardrobe perfectly. The reason he was not so pleasant is because he told one of my friends to go back to England (even though my friend is Swiss) and he was also very begrudging in our dealings. So, we will burn this good inscense wood Larsen got from Bolivia (Santa something- he gave me some last year and has some with him- it has purifying qualities). We can cleanse that guy's bad blahblah off the bracelet.

After wandering around til sundown, we returned to the Shamrock bar, and drank til we left Rome, back to the camper, and back to 3 bottles of wine. Oh, wine. I like that stuff. Not kidding. Got wasted. (Oh, then these 3 magical white, beautiful, big, arctic,expensive looking dogs came over to the camper. 2 were so nice and one....not nice. They were so beautiful, as white as snow angels.

The Swiss Bus Is Broken?

I am sitting 15 minutes outside of Rome, in a fancy condo neighborhood with a park that goes through it. The Swiss boys went to get something to fix the water in the camper. The swiss girl and I are in the park. She got a firehoop, which she has never used before. I taught her a trick, which she is practicing.
We should be in Rome today. Alas, we are not. The Camper, besides water, is having another problem... it screeches. The mechanic said he cannot look at it until 3pm. It's cool... at least we are in a beautiful park. It would be nice if it were not my first day on the rag (yes, on the rag is the term I prefer. What would you prefer?) and it would be PERFECT if there were a place to plug this tiny laptop in. But other than that, things are good.
The Swiss picked me up yesterday at the beach. There is Larsen, whom I have mentioned previously as one of the craziest people I know. Then there is his best bud since kindergarden (which is a long time since they are 32). His name is Bjorn, and his girlfriend Rahel is along. And finally, there is a guy Brooks. Their camper is not as large as it looked in the picture on the website. It's not small, but it is not big. It is my dream car for myself, and perhaps an occasional friend or two. Maybe one day, if I play my cards right. (I am kind of good at poker).
We left the beach after a bit and drove to Larsen's relatives' place. He did not know exactly how he was related to these people, so he called his family to find out. It was his dad's cousin, his dad's aunt, and his 2nd cousin. If you asked him now how he is related to these people, he would still say I don't know, and shake his head with a grunt. Before going to their place, we had to jet to the grocery store, because everything in Italy closes at 8pm. This is in addition to a 3 or something hour siesta in the middle of the day. I thought I was lazy. Nope. Anyhow, I much prefer stores staying open later than 8pm, as I am slow and forgetful. I will just have to deal, won't I? The swiss people do all the shopping together, share everything, and split everything equally. Groceries and booze are cheaper than in the U.S. We arrived a while later and had dinner at his family's place. His dad's cousin is a woman, Iliana or something, and speaks Italian, Swiss-German (she is from switzerland orignally), English luckily, and who knows what else. Her son, Larsen's 2nd cousin, was hot, speaks everything, and is majoring in Political Affairs (which was mine- oh it jaded me so). And there was Iliana's mother, who speaks Italian and German I think.
After 4 amazing cheeses, we had dinner- zuchinni frittatta (omelet), ratatoulle, spaghetti, meatballs, and veal scallopini. Dish after dish coming out, how Italian cliché. For desert, a fruit salad with this great sauce (I inquired- lemon and sugar, then refrigerated for 5 hours... it ended up being a light strawberry-oriented syrup...loved it). She brought out 6 different icecreams on a tray. No one except the grandmother had any. The grandmother was adorable.

After midnight, we returned to the camper exhausted. I forewarned everyone that I pee at least once in the middle of the night. I just can't help it. It is one of the crosses I must bare in this life. It could be be worse- I could just pee the bed.
And so today, no Rome. The people on the crazy swiss firebus are very laid-back and do not have a schedule or definite anything. Which is fine for now, because I do not either.

Ostia Antica

Ok. This is what I knew before going to the Ostia Antica Ruins:

It was a large port city for Rome around the beginning of AD.

Men of the poorer classes would have 12-hour feasts, where they would eat 8 courses LAYING DOWN! This is basically why I wanted to go check it out. So, I did.

This is what I learned while at the Ostia Antica Ruins, and afterward:

Italy smells nice, like flowers. I knew this from my arrival at the airport too. Italy is #2 is scent, #1 being Maui.

The ruins were huge.

I am glad I didn't pursue the dream I had at age 9 to be an archeologist. My attention span leaves something to be desired.

The firemen in Ostia would use blankets covered in vinegar to put out fires if they couldn't get water quickly enough.

When I don't watch where I am walking, I twist my ankle and it REALLY hurts.

Apartments in this Ostia city were like this- the better ones were on the bottom and got worse the higher you went. So, contrary to today, Roman penthouses were for losers.

Romans really liked baths.

Coconut gelato is just as good as coconut icecream in Argentina.

People in Italy are nice and many speak English. Which is good cause I have a stupid phrasebook that just has phrases, and not verb conjugations, which I can actually use to learn.

People know I am not Italian before I speak. Not sure why. And I am not holding a dictionary or map.

Grafitti covers everything here, including the trains. I wish that were the case in New York.

Sleeping in an Italian Insane Asylum

The Crazy Swiss firebus told me they got delayed and would not be in Rome by the time I arrived on Monday, so I reserved a bed in a hostel on the beach close to the airport, and a half hour train ride or so from the center of Rome. The hostel is an old insane asylum.
After taking 2 buses (which I did not pay for even though you are supposed to... I did not have the standard metro card and the drivers did not seem to care) I arrived at Litus Hostel.
The building itself is massive, and has one or two other businesses within it. Inside, it is bright and airy, with really high ceilings and lots of colorful art and cool furniture. Maybe they try to make you feel like you are in an art gallery to make you forget you are where hundreds of loonies used to be. I like it. It is empty; besides the staff I have only seen a total of 6 women or so. Not one male guest. Which besides being weird is fine since I am in little mood for banter.
On my way to the beach, I noticed that next to the hostel there was this fence, and behind the fence was this courtyard with palm trees and cool grafitti. Not just grafitti- cause that is everywhere, but cool grafitti. The fence was locked but there was a space to climb through, so I did, and walked up to the building. Seeing someone inside, I left. I was a few feet down there street when this Italian kid came out and started talking to me. From what I gathered (I don't speak Italian yet but Spanish helps), he said the place was for youth, when I asked. Then he invited me to smoke blahblah and drink. I told him maybe later. Yeah, maybe later, if you weren't 20 years old tops. He did say the place was for youth. Note: If I still smoked blahblah, I would have entertained the idea, but if I were to now, I would be a paranoid weirdo. Double no thanks.
The beach is across the street, and is actually nice. Not amazing from a picture book of Hawaii or anything, but nice. It is on the Tyrrhenian Sea, has black sand, and the blue water is not too cold. I layed down and slept on and off (mostly on.... jetlag) for 6 hours as bunched of people came and went. I missed one long strip of my leg with sunblock so now I have a red strip of pain. I went in the water once... it was nice. Especially since I had to pee. Don't tell.
I was hungry in the evening and instead of pizza (which was the only alternative close enough to where I was willing to walk in the moment), I got Chinese food. Yeah, I am a weirdo, I know. I just figured I have plenty of time to eat pizza, eat it all the time anyway, and was not in the mood for it, but was curious to see if Italianized Chinese food is similar to Americanized Chinese food. I got spring rolls and curry-fried rice. Yeah, the stuff I got is same, pretty much. Except the duck sauce for the spring rolls had a notable amount of vinegar. Not bad; I like vinegar.
I spoke to Larsen, my swiss friend. He said they will be arriving here around noon or so, and that I should get good rest and be ready for the party to begin. What he does not know is that if I am not well-rested, it does not matter. Cause I got a bottle of Milagro Silver Tequila at the airport for CHEAP. Milagro means miracle. Tequila is my coffee; my reliable, tried and true pick-me-up. When my body tells me know, tequila screams back YES! I should have bought more than just one bottle. Shoulda, woulda, coulda.
Note: While on the topic of shoulda, woulda, coulda, I shoulda tried out the camera I bought at the pawn shop. Since, now I see it does not work. And since my other one was sent off for repair, I am camera-less at the moment. Why must the digital camera gods despise me so?
Tomorrow, before the swiss crazies arrive, I will try (try) to check out the Ostia Ruins, which all the websites compare to Pompei. We'll see.
Note: I could really use a lower back massage. And there are more than just 6 women at the hostel. I was wrong. I kind of liked the idea of 6 weirdo spinster women like myself all alone in this giant art-deco looney bin.

Joining the Crazy Swiss Fire Bus

Foreword:

I will be hulahooping with fire on the streets of Italy and maybe Croatia. Maybe Slovenia and some other places... who knows.

My swiss friend Larsen is one of the craziest people I know. We met a few years ago in Guatemala, then for 2 days in Chile last year, which is when he invited me to join the One Million Euro Trip. He and his friends bought an RV, set up a website to sell advertising on the side of the RV, and they plan on performing fire shows throughout Europe on the street for money. (Everyone performs for money on the street there)

So, I am going to join what I refer to as the crazy swiss fire bus. I fly to Rome, and my ticket is for one month... I may last a few days, I may last a few weeks. We'll see.
http://www.blogger.com/www.onemillioneurotrip.ch

When I taught english in Korea....I was the champion of the school

When I taught English in Korea, we would eat lunch in the cafeteria, and everyday there was soup. It was served in a small bowl, measuring to about half a cup or a bit more. And so, since i love soup, I started eating as many soups as I can. To impress my students, really. They were in junior high, and very hard to entertain, so I had to get creative. Henceforth, I became the Champion.

Many of them would give me their soup (they could get more) and I would drink the soup up like a drink, slam the empty tiny bowl down, pound the table with my fists, and we would yell out the number of soup it was that I had just finished. I think I did 13 one day, and a bit less the other days. Yes, I did this often, since.... I love soup.

A few of the kids would cheer for me. "Teacher Jess! Teacher Jess!". And I wrote a song about it. It goes to the tune of Queen's "We are the Champions"....

I am the champion
of the school
I eat so much soup
I'm so cool.

I am the champion
I am the champion
No time for losers
Cause I am the champion
of the school....
I'm so cool
Yeah I rule

Who is the champion?
Who is the champion
I am I am I am the champion
Of the school.....

When I taught english in Korea....we ate spaghetti

When I taught in Korea, I ate alot. The food was so good. I stopped drinking soda. I did some shopping. Stuff was cheap. I ate candy and talked about it all day long. I watched some english TV in my tiny luxury room. And I wrote alot of songs for children.

newest rap song for the kids, written enroute to spaghetti lunch and performed shortly after

(open with bad beatboxing)
it's a beautiful day,
i just want to say
in more than one way
it's a beautiful day
so on this beautiful day
eat your spa-ghet-tay
and in barely a day
i will fly away
to new york citay
there's nothing else to say
it's a beautiful day
and my class selene-
they're more than just okay
it's a beatiful day.

(close with ambiguous gang hand signs and say "YEAH!")