Current Sound: 80's music in the cafe (HELL YES! They played David Bowie)
Current Location: Athens, Greece
Local Time: 9:03 AM (June 20, here)

[Last] day left in Europe.

This is my last post from Europe in "Old World". All following posts will be posted in Anti-Shell Matter, the 'regular' weblog.

All right, bitches. This is my last post from Europe. At 3 AM today, we leave for the Athens airport to start our twenty-three hour commute back to Phoenix. We get to stop in Amsterdam for a couple of hours! Granted, we only see the inside of the airport, but it's still Amsterdam. I hope to see hash bars in there. After that, we go to Detroit, and then to Phoenix. Our plane gets into Sky Harbor at about 4 PM Arizona time, Tuesday. I am stoked about this. I have had a great time here in Europe, but I am so glad to be finally going home. Soooo glad.

The cruise was interesting. We stopped in a variety of places, most of which seemed almost the same to me in terms of scenery and shopping, but I got to see the castle of Knossos on Crete, which was the basis for the concept of a "labyrinth" (it's a cool origin, which I can explain in more detail at another time), and, given my obsession with crypts and mazes and David Bowie, this made me happy. The last town we stopped in, Santorini, was beautiful, a small village atop a cliff only reachable by donkey or lift-car. I shopped for Rachel there. I hope she likes what I got her.

The boat itself had its ups and downs. The biggest downside for me was a headache the entire time the boat was in motion, though others disliked the food and other details. I am not picky insofar as food quality is concerned, so it did not bother me so much. After so much nonstop touring, I was stoked to be able to lay around like an overgrown lizard and read for hours at a time; problem is, beyond that and cards, there was not much to do. I can keep myself entertained. I drew (for the first time in nigh on months) something that, surprisingly, did not make me want to throw it into the ocean, which means that it is half-tolerable. It's Mana, and he looks damned good. I read a good 4/5 of Deception Point, could not put it down, finished it, remembered just why I want to learn how to pace books and weave suspense like Dan Brown, and started reading Wolf-Speaker. I love Tamora Pierce, yes I do. I love kids' fantasy books. For all I read her when I was younger, this is my first time reading The Immortals. I love it so far.

The receptionist on the cruise boat was incredibly nice and put up with my problems with the lock on our cabin, among other things. He's funny as hell. Let me put it this way: if he isn't gay, he is one flamer of a straight guy, lisp and all. I think the best description somebody came up with is that he is a flaming, Greek Richard Simmons. I wanted to take a picture with him, but I was concerned that he would think that I was making a novelty of his personality, so I did not. I also scared the Japanese interpreter in a way I had not exactly expected to scare anybody. She was standing by the door saying "Hello" to everybody who passed, and when I passed her, I said "Konban wa." She responded automatically, stared ahead blankly for a moment, did a double-take, looked around for a Japanese person, realized I had spoken and I was white, and fell back a bit, clutching her chest. I think she said "Sugoi" or something; I only remember it started with an 's'. She was so cute. There was also a raspy guy who looked like Errol (the American eagle) from Muppets and a steward who looked exactly like Peter Griffin from Family Guy.

The open ocean is gorgeous. I spent a lot of time at night leaning against the deck-rail watching the moon on the water. It is breathtaking. We sailed close to many of the islands, so I was able to see the lights of villages clustered on dark masses. It looked very Middle Eastern; gorgeous. I was put in mind of something Arabian, though we were on the ocean instead of the desert. I wish my camera was able to take good pictures. I would have used my memory.

Right, I have to beat it soon. Today we are going to a museum in Athens, a group dinner, and then, doing nothing or catnapping until 3 AM.

Next time I talk to you, unless we get bored and come back to the cafe before leaving, it will be Stateside. I will see you all very soon.

Current Location: Athens, Greece
Local Time: 2:17 PM

[4.5] days left in Europe.

This has to be a very quick post, since people are already getting restless to leave the cafe. It has been less than twelve hours since my last post, anyway, so I do not have a huge amount to add. I am visiting now because the group is taking a night bus out to Poseidon's temple and is not returning until late this evening, and everybody wanted to get stuff out of the way this afternoon to get sleep.

Given that I discovered that all meals, including lunch, are free on the boat, I think I can survive the rest of the trip on about ten Euro, not counting buying those shirts I promised to buy for Rachel and probably will not buy until the last minute. I do the happy Lauren-is-cheap jig.

This morning, the group went to the Pantheon and saw the temples in that area, where the same guide from yesterday was cool, again, after which we returned to the hotel. I left with some girls in order to get here, eventually, who have been shopping a bit while I have been reading. There is a sign in the elevator advertising the "Uranos" (I am guessing "Uranus") pool on the hotel roof with the subtitle "The Joy of being on top". It amused me greatly.

I have to leave now. Hopefully, this will not be my last post before Monday. If it is, until then, my friends, I leave you.

Current Location: Athens, Greece
Local Time: 10:55 PM

[5] days left in Europe.

Sorry it has been so long since I updated. I was unable to get to a computer after Rome, given timetables and other restraints. This post will probably have to be short. Few people spend as much time typing as I do, and given that I was caught Wandering Off Alone (and therefore getting a little lost, but that is a long story), I am on unofficial probabtion and therefore better not do my usual drill of staying long after everybody else is gone and walking back to the hotel alone. I've been given a warning twice, and I think if I get caught again, it will be my proverbial nuts on the chopping block. I think that as soon as I get home, I am going to get into my car, drive out to the middle of nowhere (alone), and sit there. That will last all of five minutes before I get bored or realize that I have something to get done, and by the middle of nowhere, I mean WestWorld or something.

We are now in Greece, obviously, which means that I am on a ten hour time difference from Arizona, as opposed to the former nine hour difference. My cell phone is completely dead, given that it has not charged since France for some reason, even with an adaptor, so if anybody has tried to leave me a voicemail or something, I appologize for not receiving it. Please email or comment here instead.

The group is smaller now, quieter, which is sometimes far more boring but is far more peaceful. We left Rome and drove to Naples to catch a jet-ferry to Capri, which I thought was in Greece, and I was pleasantly surprised when I did not get seasick. I am horribly prone to motion sickness, so I thought that would do it, but I was fine. I just couldn't read and only had a mild headache. Capri was beautiful. Since I was still sick, I slept through most of the boat ride around the island, which is a shame. We left for Sorrento, which is a lovely coastal town where we spent the night in a small hotel affixed to a cliff-face. The most incredible gelato parlor ever was there; unfortunately, I did not have my camera around to take pictures of the spread of flavors.

This reminds me that I saw banana gelato in Rome that was marked "viagra" for some reason. I have zero clue why, but I had to take a picture of it. Austin ate some of it and reported to us all that he never got a hard-on, so it must contain some other "viagra" than the medication.

From Sorrento we visited the ruins of Pompeii, of buried-by-ashes fame, which is where I got myself somewhat lost, and drove to a port on the eastern seaboard of Italy to catch the overnight ferry to a port in Greece. This is where I learned that the Greek still write using the old Greek alphabet; I thought they switched over to the standard Roman alphabet we use. It looks cool. I can half-read it given my background in math and science, but it takes some guesswork and sounding-out. The ferry was ginormous and surprisingly comfortable. There was a casino on the upper deck with a dance floor and loud, American pop music, which reminded me of Rachel given that I know the lyrics to all of the songs that were played thanks to being in the car with her. There were several junior high kids from Colorado on board, dancing like the little skanks they aren't yet, and another group from America. There are droves of American tourists everywhere, and given how loud and rude they are, acting as if they are going to a theme park instead of somebody else's country, I can see why people dislike them so much. Becca, Michael, Katie, and I played spades for a while before walking around aimlessly and retiring. Becca and Katie found some White Vanilla Irish Cream something-or-other rum, which tasted like vanilla-flavored fingernail polish remover to me.

I had weird dreams on the boat, most of them of a nautical nature. Figures. I was next to a window with a view of the white-tails, and I woke up no less than three times, so it makes sense.

This morning we disembarked in Greece, where we met our English-speaking tour guide, this cool old guy who has supposedly traveled to seventy-seven different countries over the past thirty-some-odd years. He really knows his country. He had some fascinating background information to give us in the museum and ruins of Delphi. I more or less remembered (I guess partially because my brain woke up at around noon) Greece's status as an originator of culture; there is so much of it in the history. It is an old as hell country. He didn't shy away from telling the more homoerotic fascets of the history, either, which impressed me. Most tour guides skirt over it. The history of the site itself is fascinating, and he is good at telling it in a way that keeps attention. He tends to skirt grandiose, heroic claims and speak as though historical figures are very much human. I find it far more accurate than the former. At the town where we ate lunch before Delphi, my lunch arrived an hour late, just as we were supposed to get back on the bus, so I had to wolf it down, but it was damned good. I love Greek food. It is incredibly saline, even by American standards.

Tomorrow is a full day in Athens, which is an utterly gorgeous city. Our hotel has a panoramic view from the roof, which I had the good fortune to see at dusk. The city is white. Rows and rows of white buildings stacked like dominoes as far as the eye can see, halfway up the mountains, scattered with lights and veins of traffic. I must remember to take my camera up there. I am running low on picture space, so I am going back through and weeding out extraneous pictures, such as they are. The day after tomorrow starts the three-day cruise (which, I realized today, includes five hours in Turkey; that is how close we are to the Middle East right now. Surreal as hell), during which I hope I will be able to find a computer to talk a bit. After that, we spend one more half-night in Athens, and leave the hotel at 3:00 AM Tuesday to start back to Phoenix.

The Greek countryside itself is gorgeous. I was amused because we saw the town of Thebes, which is supposedly the home of Antigone and Ismene (mispelled Isimah), for whom I named two characters (Christianne should remember them). There are multiple memorials along the highways to those who died in fatal wrecks. Supposedly, the country has a hidious crash rate, not due to alcohol or other substances, but due to rash driving. Especially along winding roads, one might see three memorials at one bend. It is sobering. I was irritated when I saw that somebody had used one memorial as a trash can for empty beer bottles. A good fourth of the signs one sees, even in rural areas, are written in English or are subtitled by English, testimony to the pervalence of Americans in every (safe) country. I do not think those signs are placed there for the British or New Zealanders, specifically.

I have been reading a lot. I find myself progressively dropping off into my own head at the expense of knowing what is going on or which direction we are going. I think it is a product of being part of a group for such an extended period of time. Mrs. Miller pulled me aside on the boat and asked if anything was wrong because I have, supposedly, been abnormally withdrawn even by my standards. I did not notice that I had been until she mentioned it. Maybe this is why people are progressively more convinced that if I am left to my own devices, I will wind up lost in a storage closet or something. I may be absent-minded, and I may not pay attention to where the hell we are going, but I can navigate damn well and figure out my surroundings quickly when the need arises. Oh well. I can't say that I have not been asking for it given how daydreamy I have been this trip. There is a hell of a lot of inspiration here in Europe upon which to mull, both intellectually and creatively.

I finished Maskerade, which was another Pratchett work of art, and started Deception Point by Dan Brown, which is as addictive and fun as his other books. I am about 175 pages into it. After I read that, I will have read all four of his books.

My voice is still half-gone. I sound very weak and reedy right now, in other words, much worse than I actually feel. I want my normal voice back. I am very fond of my normal voice. My strength is returning, though, and I am not as sore as I was.

I have to leave. I will see you guys later. This time next week, I will have been back in Phoenix for about a day already.

Current Location: Rome, Italy
Local Time: 4:26 PM

My domain is back up, so my email is working again.

In regard to yesterday's post, I think everybody is under the impression that I am over here turning my hair white worrying about everything that could happen to anybody back in Arizona. That is not at all the case. That post was in reference to a situation I had heard about in sparse detail, so I thought things were worse than they actually are. It was very specific, not a general explosion of pent up "they can't fend for themselves" worry. But, I do appreciate all of the concern. It sounds like what I was worried about is actually okay, which is a great deal of weight off my chest.

Tonight is the last night in Europe for the kids who are not going on to Greece, of importance, Austin and Danielle. Therefore, tonight has no choice but to be Absinthe night. I still need to phone home and get sleep, since I have been exhausted all day and am still sick. I know Austin wants to go to a specific restaurant for dinner this evening, meaning that we sit through the required dinner, not eat anything, and leave afterward. He has been talking about this restaurant the entire trip, so it should be good. He has fine taste in food. I feel like reading and sleeping after that. I need some quiet time to myself before I commit murder. Some people have spent the past two weeks wearing on my nerves with self-centered immaturity and drama, and my patience is feeling the strain.

Today we saw the Roman ruins, namely, the Colosseum, Circus Maximus, the palacial ruins, the Forum, and the Pantheon. I have the soundtrack from Gladiator stuck in my head now. There were a few guys standing outside the stadium dressed as ghetto, costume-shop Roman soldiers. I spent the latter half of elementary school obsessed with the three great ancient civilizations, so I have been waiting to see these for a long, long time. The old arena floor is gone from the Colosseum, so one can see the corridors that once formed the underbelly of the stadium. I was constantly reminded of the Roman-influenced episode of Kino no Tabi where Kino has to fight as a gladiator to win freedom of passage. All this and the Vatican explain why Rome is the city I have been looking forward to most. The ancient ruins are testimonial remains of incredible stuff, staggering when one considers the technology available during that time. Humans truly are marvelous, paradoxical creatures. Take the coliseum, for example. The stadium itself, with its structure, trap doors, and intricate guts, is an engineering marvel, but the stadium was built for contests of the utmost cruelty, setting man against another man, or watching a criminal be mauled to death by wildcats who do not like the taste of human meat so much and will probably only take a few bites before losing interest and leaving the man to writhe in slow agony. Such a cruel and advanced society did the Romans have. I took some gorgeous pictures of the ruin sites. We had the same tour guide we had for the Vatican, which was good, since he really knows his stuff. He has the thick glasses and stereotypical poor fashion sense to go with the nerdy persona; he is my new role model. He kept making veiled stabs at Bush as an oil tycoon, which amused me greatly. This guy is not at all afraid to speak his mind.

After the ruins, the guide left us for lunch, and we went to the Pantheon, where Raphael is burred. I did not know that. Rome itself is a cool city. It has an underground metro, which automatically wins points with me for some reason. This is our last night in Rome, or Italy, for that matter. Tomorrow we go somewhere of which I am not sure in Greece, but, hopefully, that does not mean it will be a long time until I get to a cafe again.

Mrs. Miller was accurate when she said today that this is the part of the trip during which people get "sick", both physically and mentally. People are fatigued and illnesses spread in the bus environment, as evidenced by the bad cold that has been going around and that I currently have, and by the palpable tension between people. I hate drama and immaturity, and lately, it has been thick enough to cut. Attitudes are souring, whining is increasing, apathy is high and understandable given how long and hard we have been going, and general bad feelings are stagnating. Fortunately, none of the drama is mine, so I am only indirectly effected, and nobody seems tense toward me specifically. Oh well. I am just keeping an optimistic attitude and taking everything with good humor, as much as is humanly possible.

I am reminded of why I idolize Terry Pratchett. He is really fucking good at what he does. Maskerade is a blast. This is the first of the Three Witches books I have read, and I want to read more of them. Nanny Ogg, Granny Weatherwax, and Greebo are funny as hell.

I am going to catch a nap before dinner. I will talk to you guys later.

Current Location: Rome, Italy
Local Time: 5:13 PM

I have lost the appetite to write in much detail. Sometimes I desperately wish I was back in Arizona so I could be there for people. Sometimes, I wish I could shut my head off and not worry about things I can't do a damn thing to help.

And, at the moment, my domain is down, so I cannot check my email. I am sorry.

Today, we went to the place I have been looking forward to most this trip: Vatican City. I have a morbid fascination with the Catholic Church and all of the history that has gone into the institution and the City itself. The line to get into the city itself was unbelievable; it circled a good portion of the city walls, multiple city blocks long and many people thick. We had an incredible tour guide, a knowledgeable British guy with an excellent sense of humor. He did not flinch from making any bad jokes or discussing sexual overtones in some of the Vatican art, and he knew his stuff damn well. We were not allowed to take pictures in the Sistine Chapel. St. Peter's is utterly staggering; any photographs you see of the place do not do its sheer magnitude and blatant extravagance justice. I found the 'air' disc from Angels and Demons, but I was not able to see the outside of the library as I had wanted to. We had to stick to the strictly touristy areas, namely, St. Peter's square and the museum.

I think tonight the group is going to the Spanish Steps, whatever that may be. I might ditch it if I have any choice in the matter, depending on my mood and what exactly the Steps are. I heard it was just a hang-out, and I feel none too social at the moment. I need rest for tomorrow, given that I am sick and we are going to be walking all day around Rome. I also need to make calls back to America.

------------
I stole this from Annie's blog.

List five songs that you are currently digging. It doesn't matter what genre they are from, whether they have words or even if they're any good but they must be songs you're really enjoying right now. Post these instructions, the artist and the song in your blog along with your five songs. Then tag five other people.

(this is in no order)

1. Phantom of the Opera, everything from
2. Goo Goo Dolls, "Iris"
3. David Bowie, "Space Oddity"
4. Depeche Mode, "Enjoy the Silence"
5. Queen, "Bohemian Rhapsody"

I tag everybody in the whole world.

Current Location: Florence, Italy
Local Time: 9:56 PM

I think I am coming down with the flu or a bad cold. I am running a fever, I ache, I have chills, and my nose is dripping more than normal. This bodes really well.

Other than that, though, things are going well. We leave at the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow (specifically, loading the bus at 5:30 AM) to rush to the Vatican before it closes at noon, and the rest of the day is spent in Rome. Rome is the city I have been most excited about the entire trip. After this post, I am going straight to my room to shower and sleep. I need to mind my health given the length of days here and the endurance they require, and I have not been getting much sleep lately. I want to feel good enough to fully enjoy tomorrow.

Last night's pilgrimage to the disco (Discoteque) was more enjoyable than I thought it was going to be. I had a chick-drink (meaning it tastes good, which is fine with me) and watched people cram around the bar to pay three Euro a shot of Absinthe and six Euro for a small drink. It was a madhouse. The lower floor consisted of the bar and the karaoke setup. Individual karaoke was eventually abandoned for just playing the songs and having everybody crowd around, shout the lyrics, and pass around the microphone. The upper level was the dance floor, complete with a balcony with cages and platforms and several flashing, neon lights. Since the time slot was dedicated to visiting American school groups, PowerPoint slide shows of random pictures of students with their states written across the top were shown on the screens above the floor. Our two pictures were two girls under the word "Arizona!", and a group of girls framed by the words "Arizona Angels!". Yeah, go Arizona. Represent.

Dancing itself was the usual orgy of being silly and grinding. After a few shots of Absinthe, Becca and Michael loosened up enough to dance, which I had been expecting all along on Becca's part, but not so much Michael's. I was glad to see them cutting loose and having fun. They both, along with Danielle, left a boyfriend / girlfriend Stateside, and I know it has been getting to both of them, so seeing them have a good time made me happy. I left Whitey, and that is really getting to me. Some random guy grabbed my ass on the dance floor, which I know wasn't so much because I was attractive but because I was breathing and female. When I was not dancing with them, I was on the ground floor with Austin yelling songs with the crowd of karaoke people.

The club would not have been fun had I not been in good company; when they were elsewhere during the beginning of the night, I found myself desperate for the solitude of my room and a book, and irritated by all of the teenyboppers fighting and shoving to get to the bar and just being plain stupid in various ways. In short, the club scene is not mine, but I managed to have a good time. We got back to the hotel a hairsbredth within curfew and fell dead asleep. I am very tired.

Today was a mad-dash to see Florence in all its glory. We visited the chapel where Galileo, Machiavelli, and Michelangelo are buried, the Duomo, a museum, and the Academia where the David is housed. I have a great deal of respect for those three men and their respective intellects, and the David is worth all of the hype it receives. Unfortunately, the Academia did not allow pictures, since they want you to buy up their mad array of David stuff in the gift shop, and the curators hide among the crowd watching for people trying to get shots. I was yelled at twice, and only managed to get a shot of his backside.

The statue itself is an artistic and anatomic marvel. It truly is near-immaculateness, insofar as marble can resemble a human body. You can see the veins in the crook of his elbow and the muscles and tendons in his shoulder, the subtle ripples in his skin along muscle, folds, ribs, and fingernails, and his stance is incredibly natural. The lines are so fluid. You can see by the curves in his sides and neck that he is resting his weight on one leg. Achieving that with modern-day laser technology would be a feat; mind that Michelangelo did all of this with a chisel and a hammer, and one block of marble. You have all heard the gushings of praise for the statue, but until you actually see it, it does not hit home. He looks a little pissed from some angles, but, then again, if I was being forced to stand on a dais in a full room of people whose eyes were drawn between my legs before anyplace else, I would be pissed too.

There were "moving statues" in front of the museum, and I got my picture taken with a green-washed young duke I assume was a woman beneath the paint and the costume. She looked incredible.

Florence leather is worth the hype Austin was giving it. The stuff is incredibly supple and soft. I visited two of the leather markets to look around and got a new wallet, since my old one has been about go to belly-up for months, and gloves, because I really, really like gloves. I also got somebody a souvenir. The smaller of the two markets was next to lucky boar that appeared in the movie Hannibal, where Dr. Lechter washed his hands after killing somebody to cleanse himself of his sin. I have a picture of myself washing my hands there, but it was taken at a bad angle, which is a shame. I was too polite to ask the chaperone to re-take it. I really want to read The Silence of the Lambs. What scraps I have seen and heard about Lechter fascinate me. I got a small model of that boar.

Becca and I came to this conclusion today: Europe is small and compact. It really is. So much of historical and astronomical fame is packed within short distances of one another, and to Europeans, this is not a foreign concept. The vast majority of the merchants speak English and French easily, and I heard one switch over to Japanese when the need arose. These are street-merchants, too, probably not products of an overly-rigorous traditional education, but apprenticeships. *Everybody* speaks English, and *everybody* can spot an American, though most of the mercahnts approaching me individually started by speaking Italian. One of the waiters from lunch said that he has wanted to see the Grand Canyon his entire life after asking us where we were from, and he is an older guy, so that is not a light statement. It all gives a perspective. It really is a small, small world.

The group passed a dollar store on the way to dinner that had a plastic jewelry set in the window featuring Kinomoto Sakura on the cardboard backboard. I am dead-on sure it was her; it is the animation picture of her in her sundress with the green bow and the straw hat. The picture had absolutely nothing to do with the jewelry, which was not CCS related at all, but just candy-colored plastic bracelets. I think there was a plastic sword being sold in some dollar store in America that had pictures of the mecha from Escaflowne; must be the same pirating concept. Somebody must have done a Google for images and grabbed the first cute girl that showed up onscreen. I took a picture, of course.

I am going to go and pack, shower, and sleep now. I did not realize it was already almost ten o'clock.

Oh, and, because I have noticed this: believe it or not, Trench Kamen is actually a "she".

Current Location: Florence, ITALY
Local Time: 7:20 PM

This computer is not allowing me to check email, but I was able to read those that were sent.

Last night was interesting. I was having a nightmare at about 2:45 in the morning involving a rabid dog mauling my foot when I woke up and thought I heard Rachel crying. Vividly. It was just two seconds of sound, but it was so clear that my body seized up and my brain more-or-less locked down. Intellectually, I knew that I had probably just heard something. I thought, and later confirmed, that a mosquito had crawled under the dome my ear formed over the pillow and was buzzing; the echoing sounded like crying. My gut, however, was convinced that a member of the family had been killed, most likely, Mom or Dad, to the point that I thought I could feel that Mom's presence was gone from the earthly plane. I laid there for about half an hour trying to reason the feeling away, telling myself that it wasn't intuition but psyching myself into thinking I felt something, but my brain was too locked up to respond.

You all know me. I take little stock in supersticion and do not spook easily at all. However, I have seen strong evidence in the favor of instinct, and I am open to the idea that people may perhaps have intuitive knowledge of a tragedy occuring to a loved one. It was a long-as-hell shot, and my left brain knew that I was being ridiculous, but my left brain also knew that my right brain was being hysterical and that I would not sleep until I called home to see if something had happened, even though if something did happen, I would get called soon. Becca has been using my cell phone as an alarm clock, so I had to wake her to get it, explain briefly why in the bloody blue hell I was making a phone call at three AM, and go out in the hall to call Dad. It was about 6 PM in Arizona when I called, so, fortunately, he was available in his office. I am sure he and Becca think I am a raving lunatic now, but both were understanding, especially Becca considering that I woke her up because of a mosquito and my half-asleep. She was very casual about it this morning and told me not to worry about it when I appologized for waking her up.

I think I worried Dad, though. He asked twice if I was okay (psychologically and physically, he specified). I can't blame him, given that I was calling because I was hearing voices, and my voice sounded weak because I was in the hallway and trying not to wake the fourth floor of the hotel. Walls are paper-thin in Europe, and sound carries. I hope he is not concerned. I really am doing perfectly fine. I just had a bad night.

This morning we drove to Pisa of the leaning-tower fame and climbed the leaning tower. It was impressive. I got to the roof of the tower, where people usually not bothered by heights were very bothered by the sloping marble and the seemingly week guard-rail. It was remiscient of every medieval tower I have encountered in the fantasy world, on the inside. The height did not bother me at all, though everybody else was nervous. The rest of the time in Pisa was spent killing time and avoiding the wandering salesmen, who are very 'friendly' as they are anywhere in Europe tourists can be found. The ones in Pisa had open binders of 'real' Rolexes and other 'good watches', a lot of model towers, a lot of tacky jewelry, and a lot of umbrellas given the rain. We, as obvious Americans, get attacked as soon as we get off the bus. I kid not; they wait in the bus lots. I was needlessly irritable today (but civil; I don't think anybody noticed), so they really got on my nerves. I know it is all because I had a bad tension-headache from thinking too much on the bus for four straight hours, when I wasn't scribbling in my notebook and making myself carsick. I have yet to look over what I wrote and deem it worthy or not.

Becca and Austin bought air-shot guns in Pisa and a container of BB's so they can wage war when the teachers are not looking. I found it amusing. Austin tried to shoot people off the first tier of the tower, which could be a felony waiting to happen for all I know, but it amused me just the same. I looked at the cheap shuriken (throwing stars, like you see in ninja movies) and butterfly knives sold at many of the stands. I have been considering getting a knife for self-defense purposes for a long time, just to keep somewhere handy in my car, but the knives in the market did not look sturdy or reliable. The last thing I would want is the handle to crack as soon as I made a stab, or something. Switchblades are illegal in Arizona, but butterfly knives are not. I would just worry about Rachel's dumbass friends finding it, or something, or Dad finding it and thinking that I am going through a cop-killer and / or paranoid phase. I don't need him questioning my sanity any more than he probably is at the moment. The stands also had some nice Japanese swords, needlessly and overly ornate and probably worth shit in a real fight, but shiny. I would like to learn how to throw shuriken or throwing knives, though the chances of those being available in a pinch are pretty damn low. The shuriken looked pretty sturdy, and even came with a leather pouch. Michael got some and a butterfly knife.

Being on the bus for extended hours does not bode well for me, sometimes, because I have nothing to do but listen to music. That is what most of the day was: a bus ride. If I did not direct my thoughts on writing and scribble frantically for two hours, I would have gone mad thinking about God-knows-what. Mostly, college and what to do and where to go with that. One year until the eternal summer. That, of course, brings all sorts of melancholy thoughts.

In any case, we are in Florence, a city I have always wanted to see, and I feel much better now that I am off the bus and in fresh air. I can't wait to see all of the artisan markets. Tonight is the disco (which does not mean the disco genre of music is played, necessarily, but is just a term for a dance club), and I am going with the rest of the group to see if it will be any fun or not. I am going to wear that tunic and sash I got in Avignon. Hopefully, the music will be good and the people will be tollerable. If not, there is a lot of the city to explore. Austin claims that this is the greatest shopping city in the world, and while that is an arguable claim, there has to be a reason he made it. The leather market is a must-see, supposedly, and I have seen enough evidence of a Bohemian mentality to assume that street artisans are easily found.

I heard that our tour tomorrow starts at 5 AM. If that really is the case, I will be lucky to make it down the stairs intact. At least I do not plan on spending long at the disco, if it is like any dance I have been to that was not at an anime convention. I badly need sturdy sleep.

After reading this over, I realize how melancholy and depressed this post sounds. Things really are going well. I just had a bad night directly followed by a lot of thinking-space. We are spending all of tomorrow in Florence, and then, the next day, we get up at the ass-crack of dawn to go... to...

VACTICAN CITY, BITCHES.

I have always wanted to go to Vatican City, since my Hellsing obsession in ninth grade, even more so after reading Da Vinci Code and especially Angels and Demons. Chrissy and I had a hell of a lot of role-plays that took place at the Vatican, too, and no, that does not mean what you think it means. There is also the fact that the Catholic Church has had an astronomical impact on the history of Western Civilization and that the city itself is supposed to be an archetectural and historical marvel of paramount importance. That is all kind of important. I will try not to make a ton of bad priest jokes. Needless to say, I am excited about going to Rome in general.

I have to be back at the hotel in ten minutes. I will talk to you all later.

Current Location: Venice, France
Local Time: 9:06 PM

Trench Kamen went shopping today. And, by that, I mean that she got two dress masks for "special occasions" (such as Anime Expo and the like) and two blank-white masks on which to write. I spent no less than two hours looking at the across-the-eyes harlequin masks with my alter ego in mind. I wish I had my trenchcoat with me, because that would call for some serious photo opportunities. Probably, most of them would be posing with my coat thrown back like a cape and scaring pidgeons. Trench Kamen does stuff like that. I should just wear the masks the rest of the trip. Maybe two people would get the reference, those two being people who have talked to me online, and neither would still get it.

The walking tour of the Venecian palace (I thought of Las Vegas when I first saw it) was this morning. The tour guides are anal and won't let people take pictures of any rooms with paintings on the walls, which just meant that I had to gauge when their attention was elsewhere before taking pictures. I think I was yelled at by no less than three different guides, at least never by the same one twice. It was a long, somewhat boring tour, so my attention wandered, especially when we got to the jails.

Let's just say that running thereafter that, a great deal of Mana's backstory was fleshed out. His home-universe is closely modeled after Italy, so I keep thinking of (a fuck of a lot of) stuff for his story. I thought more (or a fuck of a lot) about APC in France. I have had a lot of time to think about my various writing projects this trip, cursed be it that there are no word processors about. Granted, that is a good thing, because I need to enjoy Europe while I am here.

Becca and I got separated from Michael, Austin, and Danielle after visiting one of the glass-blowing factories (both of the salesmen there recognized my Jigen pin, which made me happy), so we left them after looking around and took the public transit boats to Murano. I got something for my family at the Venecian glass factory. I think my parents will like it.

Oh, the public transit boats are cool. Since Venice only has canals and sidewalks, their equivalent of the metro is a boat system on the main canals. There are complicated, multi-colored-line maps of various routes at the docks, exactly like the line charts I saw for the Paris Metro: same fonts, same graphics, same clean, public-transportation lines. You could mistake the systems and maps for bus routes. The line we took back from Murano is the "DM" line, which I subconsciously called the "Depeche Mode" line. After letting that slip, Becca claimed that she would never talk to me again. She talked to me again when I asked her something twenty seconds later, if only to remind me that she was never talking to me again.

Murano, anyway, is the island of the glass blowers, where every single shop sells gorgeous glassware. Becca really shopped it up, and we walked all over the place. I restrained myself from everything but a glass inkwell-pen. I have a nerdy penchant for dip-pens, and I was able to find one relatively cheap. There was a shop with a gorgeous gothic candle-holder I wanted, but the price was sky-high. Shame, though, because it was gorgeous and crawling with delicate black vines. One of the shops that specialized in character art had a huge glass Lupin being chased by a glass Jigen being chased by a glass Zenigata. I wish I could have taken a picture, but the artists did not want any photos taken of his work. I noticed that one woman who was wrapping one of Becca's items was wearing a Cardcaptor Sakura shirt, so I asked her to open her jacket so I could see if I was correct. I was. I asked her about it, but her English was sketchy and she could only tell me that she did not know it was from a show, and that she got it somewhere near the museum on the island. We looked and looked for the store, but never found it. We took one of the transit boats back to the main town area, which is when I started mask shopping. I need to think of stuff to write on the blanks.

On the subject of writing, Mrs. Miller made my night when she told me that I am a beautiful writer last night, and when, of all people, the highly-critical Becca agreed with her, and both of them have only seen my academic stuff. We were talking about SAT scores and how I got shafted on writing. In any case, it made me happy. Yes, I am an egomaniac and a whore.

The hotel has a cat. I think it is pregnant. I like cats. It did not try to rip my skin off when I knelt down to pet it, so I consider it friendly.

I forgot to mention yesterday how interestingly free I felt when I did laundry yesterday. I wanted everything possible to get cleaned, so I was only wearing what needed to show on the outside not to get arrested for indecent exposure. Yeah, drafty. Pajama pants and a linen top. Period. Thankfully I am so flat that nobody can tell whether or not I am wearing anything on top.

Every single day this trip, I have had a different song from Phantom of the Opera stuck in my head. "Masquerade" and "Prima Donna" are popular ones.
I did not bring my OST, so I am going through withdrawal. Um, on the subject of CDs, where in the holy blue fuck is my X Character Files CD? I want it back, goddamnit, or I want a copy of it.

Last night I dreamed that I was being chased all over town (and by that I think I mean pseudo-Scottsdale that sometimes looked like Pampa) by somebody (specific) who was crying hysterically, trying to latch on to me, and kept demanding very difficult explanations out of me. It was great. I then dreamed that I was Sumeragi Subaru (or I am pretty damn sure I was him; I wasn't sure until the end) and walking around dank, rainy streets while "I", also as the narrator, was telling a story in prose-form that had the same rhythm and feel as "The Raven" or "The Highwayman", if anybody is familiar with either of those poems. At the end of the poem "I" was lifting some guy I am pretty damn sure was Seishirou--I could feel his weight, but I could still lift him easily--and brushing his hair out of his eyes (he had an odd side-part, and I could feel his hair vividly and realistically; it was soft and healthy) before taking him off somewhere. I think I woke up right when "I" was brushing his hair out of his eyes. I know bloody damn well what the first dream meant--it was a guilt-nightmare--but the second dream is more vague; it could mean a lot. I think it means I desperately need to write when I get home.

I am still stoked about my masks, and I want to start scratching ideas for what I should write on the blanks. I am going to take those to Expo and be famously unknown, but still mess with people. I should wear them the rest of the trip.

Tomorrow, we are leaving for Florence, with Pisa on the way. We are supposed to go to the "disco" tomorrow night, which has the potential to suck and / or rock hardcore, and yes, the "and" is possible. I hope it just rocks it up hardcore and that the music is good.

I came up with a great idea for a tampon bag. Most people have tampon bags for the primary reason that they do not want people to know that they are carrying a tampon bag. I want to make a tampon bag that says "TAMPON BAG" with a sketch of me alongside giving the thumbs-up and a huge grin. I am a really funny person.

And, oh, yeah, this may be because I am bleeding or because I actually have a heart somewhere, but I miss everybody back home. A lot. A lot a lot. I just won't ever admit it, as in, I will deny I just said it. I hope everybody is doing well and not missing me too much. I will be back soon.

Current Location: Venice, Italy
Local Time: 9:15 PM

We are here in Venice for all of tomorrow, and then leave the day after for Florence, so I will be back.

I am still of the opinion that wine tastes like an oil spill in a cherry cannery. It is foul-tasting stuff.

I guess Lupin the Third and Tokyo Mew Mew are popular here in Italy. Just walking around I saw MewMew stuff at a handful of newspaper stands, and I have seen Lupin pins on sale at several sidewalk kiosks. I had to get a Jigen pin. (I also got a random pin that says "virgin" with a picture of a sperm on it, just because it is so random and ludicrous.)

This is the height of the Lupin fandom, though: there was a tattoo parlor in Como called "Jigen Tattoo" with a profile-shot of Jigen smoking on the sign. I almost choked.

Last night, we witnessed a guy cut some other guy off and the driver of the second car stop, open his door, stand, and yell at the other guy until he backed up to be yelled at. If I were the guy who had cut him off, I would have kept going the other direction.

The bus ride today was not so bad; I listened to music again. Upon getting here we had to leave the bus and walk to the hotel, since there are no cars in the streets of Venice. If you want to go somewhere quickly, you go by boat. Some lady walked by yelling at us in Italian (directly, looking right at us) because, I assume, we were obviously American and blocking her way. It took a while and a lot of backtracking to find our hotel. Becca and I got the only room on the fourth floor, in the far corner, which she thought was another instance of the bastard-child phenomenon at first. The room isn't bad at all and has a gorgeous view of the tiers of red-shingled rooftops. Becca also smashed her foot with her suitcase, and we have a four-hour walking tour tomorrow. Owned.

Venice itself is a gorgeous city. The architecture is incredible, almost entirely white buildings with red-shingled roofs, back-alleys, and old Roman vestiges. There are no cars, only canals, and supposedly the city can get shady at night. We were advised to stay in large groups with a couple of males present, which I resent, only because it is true advice. Women are preyed on far more often here, especially foreign women, and Italian men are supposedly incredibly persistent. I know I can handle myself in a fight, but only to a point, namely, to the point at which I get pinned down or otherwise physically restrained. Despite all of that advice, things seem pretty quiet here. This cafe is in a back alley, and it's perfectly fine. There are so many gorgeous shops and photographic opportunities. I take pictures, photographic pictures. Italian food is teh secks. Gelatto is teh secks as well; there are so many open-faced stands with the stuff piled up in segmented bins behind glass, and the piles have real strawberries / peaches/ chocolate chunks / what-have-you on the surfaces of the mounds. It kicks the hell out of the gelatto sold on Mill Ave.

Shopping here is incredible. You would think that one would get sick of glass and masquerade masks over and over again, but I never tire of them. I developed a penchant for the tri-corner hats, as I think they make me look like a seventeenth century English doctor (you know, the young one that always wears narrow glasses and ends up going on naval voyages as a ship's surgeon / unofficial philosopher / intellectual / cool head and keeps a journal and gets the crew out of problems and whatnot, but I digress), but the two opinions I have gotten on how I actually look in the hats have been unfavorable, so I have not gotten one. Yet. And, as cool as one would be, a tri-corner hat would be just one more thing to carry around. This entire trip I have been determined to travel lightly and not buy anything that is breakable or will take up space, a rule I violated when I found something that I knew somebody would love and also remembered that I still owe this person a birthday present (and, I still will do something creative as well, I swear). I hope it gets back to the States in one piece. I have my usual urge to get souvenirs for people, but getting everything back intact is an issue. I wish I could just walk around the rest of the trip in a black cloak, the tri-corner hat, and a mask. I have seen all three articles for sale, and they kick ass. I am a sucker for that kind of stuff. Gackt should take some fashion advice from the Venicians.

I also wanted to see the Venician glass-blowers actually perform, but they are apparently all an hour away by boat, and nobody else I have talked to is that adamant about seeing them. Oh well.

The laundromat took over an hour this time, and the entire time, (hysterically bad) advertisements for Italian dance-remix anthologies and dating services were playing on a monitor above the machines. I saw a Simple Plan video that made me realize just how emo emo can get. I desperately wanted bloody hell to freeze over and for a Gackt music video (I was thinking "Mizerable", since the video is gorgeous and it's been stuck in my head) to appear on the Italian Top 10 music video countdown, but no such luck. I swear it was English language day at the Venice lanudromat; every person but one was from an English-speaking country.

And, of course I have not forgotten about Expo stuff, even though I am in Europe. It is not as if my entire brain has been hard-wired to the Eiffel Tower or something.

I discovered earlier that, ironically enough, my Subaru the Kadabra does an especially good job killing ghost-type Pokemon in one shot. I think it's hysterical, but nobody else in the group appreciated that.

In other news, I have supposedly been talking in my sleep a lot lately, which I may do in the States, but people seldom mention me doing it when I sleep over. Thankfully I have never been reported to say anything too specific beyond vague commands and one-word phrases. I have been having weird dreams lately--hurried, hectic, stomach-lurching fast, sometimes amusing, sometimes sickening--and being half-coherent when I awaken. Same happens when I drift off on the bus; as soon as I wake up, I forgot what I was meditating / half-dreaming about so deeply. Maybe it's just having so much stuff going on during the day, even though we have a lot of downtime to explore and lately have been spending that time taking care of practical things. I don't dream about Europe, unless it takes an auxiliary role. For what it is worth, I once dreamed that Haruka and Michiru were living in my backyard in Pongo's old igloo (which they're perfectly welcome to, but I recall something being desperately wrong and them needing to be protected), and I think that was part of the Rachel-is-a-sociopath dream. There have been too many dream-segments to remember. Usually, I have a clear memory of what I dream, but this trip, things have not been so clear. Maybe it's summer decompression occurring all at once.

Everybody is back from the pharmacy and ready to go. I had better get off the computer. Later.

Current Location: Como, Italy
Local Time: 4:43 PM

This cafe has really cool American techno remixes playing. I swear I just heard a White Stripes remix, or a remix of something with the same baseline as "Seven Nation Army".

Last night started as "we are going to finish this entire bottle of Absinthe so help me God" night, but, thankfully, ended in three people splitting only half the bottle. I did not want to accompany anybody to the hospital for alcohol poisoning. The stuff is strong enough to merit that worry, as one bottle of most other alcoholic drinks does not. Three (not at all lightweight) people were able to get smashed on half of a bottle (about 20 oz) among them. I stayed sober and straight-edge and had a McDonald's sundae. It sure tasted a lot better than Absinthe. I'm really the cool kid on this trip, I tell you.

This morning was the bus ride, which did not take nearly as long as I was told it would take and was utterly gorgeous. Northern Italy reminds me strongly of the area just north of the Amarillo airport, just rolling and with more green patches. I half-thought we were in Texas sometimes. Since I get violently sick if I try to read or do anything requiring my eyes in a vehicle (and we took some winding roads), I listened to music for hours and daydreamed. I had my notebook out and was scribbling madly as soon as we got to the hotel room. I have an amazing capacity to entertain myself doing absolutely nothing for hours.

This is not what I expected the Honeymoon Capitol of Europe to look like (it is beautiful, but not by conventional standards), but then again, I have only been on the outskirts of town as of yet. This area is between misty, lush mountains. We are going to explore after we leave the cafe. We are only here for a night. Becca and I walked past graffiti reading "FUCK THA POLICE", which I had to photograph with me beside flipping the birds, and we were told to go to an internet cafe called "Black Panther", which sounds like a place where we would get our cracker-American-asses shot. We're so white it's not even funny.

The hotel we have here, ironically, is the nicest one we have had yet. It is a Best Western with thick bathroom walls (you just don't appreciate the degree of privacy American bathrooms supply until you leave), a working shower, a thermostat, and sturdy beds. In the last hotel, Becca accurately dubbed our room the "bastard child room", which, while not at all bad by global standards, had a broken bed and the Shower from Hell that flooded and required one to hold the shower head with one hand, since the hinge on which it rested was hanging loose and angled the stream straight at the wall.

The food here is a far cry better than French food, as well. The quick stop had better sandwiches than one can get in most restaurants in America. This is a good thing, as French food is not my favorite and I am getting sick of veal. It doesn't taste incredible, which makes me wonder even more why breeders put calves through inhumane torture to produce it. I would have made a social protest if I did not know it would make no difference at the time and that I need a good dose of protein a day.

Oh, yeah, while everybody was having drunken (funny as hell) conversations last night, I played Pokemon Leaf Green, which I have not picked up in a while. My Subaru the Abra evolved into a Kadabra! Now I have Seishirou the Alakazam, Subaru the Kadabra, and Hokuto the Abra. I present the back of my head to be whacked now. I also deduced that I need to start a new game of Harvest Moon, since all the girls are neutral toward me, my farm is a mess, and nobody likes me. I am really cut out for this whole domestic farm-life thing. I can't even keep track of my cell phone and sunglasses most of the time, so it should come as no shock that I can't run a virtual farm. I daydream too much while playing and forget to do stuff like visit people.

Apparently, the Bellagio off of which the version in Las Vegas is based is here in Como. My Ocean's Eleven fangirl wants to go see it, but is way up one of the misty mountains. Supposedly the central part of town is gorgeous. I want to find some local street-artists and look at their stuff. A kid bought these incredible spray-paint pictures of the universe (you know, the sci-fi psychedelic ones where the planets can all be seen in gorgeous detail from one lunar landscape) in Nice, and I regret not finding that artist while I was there. I support the arts. I am more interested in all of the indie art stuff I have seen here in Europe than the clothes or the souvenirs.

Speaking of artists, have you guys (TAB or whatever-the-fuck we are) reserved your Expo table yet? Is everything ready to get run off as soon as I get back, since we will be running short on time? I suggest doing some fanart stuff if you guys want to turn a good profit, since you all damn well have the talent-and-and-half to sell a lot of prints. And what is the current status on cosplay stuff? Is there going to be a skit thing? I have open days if you need somebody for a group for something.

I have been listening to "Falling for the First Time" by the Barenaked Ladies obsessively (though somebody labeled it as "Maroon 5" on WinMX) this trip. This is how we sing it:

-----------
I'm so cool, too bad I'm a loser
I'm so smart, too bad I can't get anything figured out
I'm so brave, too bad I'm a baby
I'm so fly, that's probably why it
Feels just like I'm falling for the first time

I'm so green, it's really amazing
I'm so clean, too bad I can't get all the dirt off of me.
I'm so sane, it's driving me crazy
It's so strange, I can't believe it
Feels just like I'm falling for the first time

Anyone perfect must be lying, anything easy has its cost
Anyone plain can be lovely, anyone loved can be lost
What if I lost my direction? what if I lost sense of time?
What if I nursed this infection? maybe the worst is behind
It feels just like I'm falling for the first time
It feels just like I'm falling for the first time

I'm so chill, no wonder it's freezing
I'm so still, I just can't keep my fingers out of anything
I'm so thrilled to finally be failing
I'm so done, turn me over cause it
Feels just like I'm falling for the first time

Anything plain can be lovely, anything loved can be lost
Maybe I lost my direction, what if our love is the cost?
Anyone perfect must be lying, anything easy has its cost
Anyone plain can be lovely, anyone loved can be lost
What if I lost my direction? what if I lost sense of time?
What if I nursed this infection? maybe the worst is behind

-----

I have to split. I'll catch you cats later.

Current Location: Nice, France
Local Time: 6:37 PM

So, my mother emailed my SAT scores, and I do not know exactly what they mean. I think I got shafted on the writing portions again, though I think I have a fairly solid overall score. I will see when I get home how I did.

Tomorrow, the group is taking the eight-hour Bus Ride from Hell to Como, Italy, at which point I will see if I will be able to update. Supposedly Como is the honeymoon capitol of the world, or something, which hopefully does not mean everything will be ridiculously expensive and highbrow, but hopefully means the scenery is good. We are only staying there one night before driving on to either Venice or Florence; I forgot which. In short, this is my last night in France.

Last night I dreamed that my sister was a sociopath who tortured our pets, and that I was supposed to, in feverish-musical fashion, prove that she had turned once kind animals into defensive, maniacal monsters. Whitey and Bassy (who were lean and had sharp features for some reason) yowled and lashed out when people tried to pick them up; Bassy almost took the skin off my arm. She had glowing, green eyes. I saw all of this in musical, spotlighted fashion, half the time Bassy in a dark background scratching above her head and hissing. I remember driving in what was supposed to be Paradise Valley, in the mountain neighborhood by Make-Out Point, but the buildings were more like they are here in Nice. Below, in the basin, the city was almost like a carnival, unnaturally close, huge, and lighted. Anyway, I also remember my Dad trying to drag my late dog, Pongo, in for a check-up, and somebody was talking about how the dog had won a medal for being injured. Somehow, I had to save Pongo before Rachel killed him, but I knew I was too late, even though I did not see the murder. I tried to scream at Mom and Dad that she was insane, but they were neutral, and Rachel just stood there (she was around seven or eight years old), grinning beneath her hair. It was creepy. Did I mention that all of this was a musical like Moulin Rouge?

I don't know what all of it meant.

Yesterday I met two mothers from Arizona in the laundromat. They saw my driver's license and said that they were from Glendale and Peoria, and one of them has a son entering his senior year at Highland High. They recognized my school when I said that I was with an 'academic' (and, how, with this group, do I use that word loosely) group from Saguaro. It's a small world after all.

There is an anime store down the street from this cafe, but I think it is closed. Small world after all. It's pathetic that I would be more willing to spend money on anime stuff than stuff I can get nowhere else but Nice.

The 'plastics', who compose the majority of females on this trip, never fail to amuse me. I heard a good tale about one dropping her sunglasses while she was drunk and, upon seeing that they were scratched, crying about how she paid three-hundred Euro for them (keep in mind, 0.65 Euro is a dollar). It's mean. It's stereotyping. It's funny as all hell. No, I am not kidding. I think I unnerved a few of them when I passed the same group twice in one night and said "Hee~ey, American girls" both times. Granted, if I had paid three-hundred Euro for something I liked and then dropped it, I think I would cry too.

Today we went to Monaco / Monte-Carlo, which is a gorgeous shore-town. The usual fivesome walked a good hour to get to a beach, which was gravely with amazingly clear water (and Austin was irritated because he heard some chick complain that it was 'dirty'; wow), and took turns watching the group's stuff. The boys and I swam out to a raft off the shelf and swam back. The water was everloving cold at first, but we went numb pretty quickly. We swam back for the changing of the guard, and I guarded the stuff and read while the four of them swam back out to the raft, which was hella nice. I can think of few finer things than sitting on a beach in Monte Carlo reading Terry Pratchett.

We found a relatively inexpensive place to eat lunch by the docks, where I had a savory crepe of the chicken and cheese variety, though I disliked the porous bread-material used to fold up the crepe. I should have gotten a burger and screwed the fandom-novelty value of getting a crepe, though I think the sweet ones are supposed to be much better. I am determined to eat one on this trip. Austin came back after ordering and said that he thought that he had just ordered four cheese pizzas, instead of one four-cheese pizza. He came back with four boxes under his arm and spent the rest of lunch trying to push pizza off on us, eating the crusts from three of the pizzas, and claiming that he needed alcohol to force himself to forget how many Euro he had spent on the four pizzas because the guy at the booth did not speak English. It was pretty amusing. I hope he doesn't drink himself into an Absinthe coma as he was claiming he was going to do. He'll see green fairy pizzas.

I noticed something while we were driving back. The bus driver, Bruno, had taken a long loop back from the garage where we were originally supposed to meet to pick up some kids on the far side of town, which took a good half hour, and upon stopping to get all of them was met with a chorus of "Thank you, Bruno!"s and "You're a pimp, Bruno!"s, etc. I know that feeling.

It made me realize this: I have not driven in a week. Wow.

This entire area is gorgeous. It reminds me of Hawaii and San Diego. I listened to my Gackt CD today while we were driving, which reminded me that, sinfully, I had not listened to him since I had left the states. I wonder if I was the only person listening to Gackt in the area at that moment. If I met a French fan-person who spoke broken Japanese, but no English, we could communicate that way.

I love the smell of the laundry detergent I used yesterday. That stuff is strong. Becca said the room smelled like detergent this afternoon after I opened my suitcase. It's a clean smell. I like clean.

Tonight is going to be a quiet night. Everything is closed, so I may be back if there is absolutely nothing else to do. I could also read. I will see. If I am back, I will probably be on AIM. If not, I will talk to you guys later.

Current Location: Nice, France
Local Time: 8:22 PM

(this is the second post for today, ammendment to the post below)

Back already within three hours of the last post, mostly because the cafe (this cafe is a different one, much nicer, same rate, air-conditioned, and with an English keyboard) is around the corner from the hotel, everything else is closed, and I've been feeling odd about the last post. I'm sorry for going so ridiculously emo. I know I skewed some of what was said because I was depressed, and I am sure there was some miscommunication. I also know I rambled incoherently and didn't clarify some of what I was trying to say (foremost on my mind: I don't care if the general public understands me, obviously, just those close to me, and I think I sounded like one of those "the world doesn't understand me they should die waaah" kids), but that is beside the point. I think you guys know what I meant. Annie and Kaity, thank you for reading through all of that mess and commenting.

Tomorrow we are spending the day at the beach in Monte Carlo, which is supposed to be gorgeous. The cafe is open tomorrow until midnight, so I will be able to update. This makes me happy. I likes my travel log.

Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that I locked myself in the bathroom when I first got here, and that Michael had to get me out with his pocket-knife. It wasn't my fault.

Current Location: Nice, France
Local Time: 5:40 PM

Since tomorrow is Sunday, the internet cafe will probably be closed. Monday is the Bus Ride from Hell, or the eight-hour ride to Italy, so it may be Tuesday until I update. Check back just in case before then, though, because you all love me.

So, apparently, Absinthe here isn't actually hallucinogenic. It is advertised with the old image in mind, but everybody who sees stuff when drunk on it sees stuff because he or she WANTS to see stuff. It is still somewhere from 55 to 70 percent pure alcohol, though, which is insane.

Last night we went to Pope's Palace again, where conversation took very depressing turns, went back to the hotel, and watched part of Scary Movie 2 in French. This morning, I was, believe it or not, ready to go twenty minutes before I had to be downstairs, but I cut my finger right on the outer joint on something in my suitcase and bled all over the place. You would think it would take less than two minutes to find a band-aid and patch the cut up, but I was working with only my left hand and the band-aids were deep in the suitcase, all while trying to hold tissue over the cut so it would stop bleeding like mad. The tissue kept falling off, and once I got the band-aid opened and ready, my left fingertips kept sticking to it, and I couldn't get it off, and tissue residue was stuck on the cut. It was amusing. I finally got the damn thing patched and ran downstairs, where everybody was already gone, but I barely made the bus.

I noticed two hours later when we stopped for lunch that I had forgotten to turn in the room key in the rush, which is a bad thing in France. I don't know if it would do any good to mail it back or not. Hopefully the hotel has a spare for my room. This is all typical Lauren-stuff.

Oh, fuck this, I'm deleting this emo-post.

I have to run to the laundromat before it closes. I still have not gotten to go, but I have my clothes on the floor beside me. I hope to go to the beach before we leave Nice. Yay beach!

Current Location: Avignon, France
Local Time: 6:40 PM

I appologize for the pseudo-emo post yesterday. I am in much better spirits today, beyond the point of letting much get to me.

Tomorrow morning we are leaving for Nice, so once again, it may be anywhere from less than 24 hours to God-knows-how-long until I get to the computer again. After Nice, we are going to Como, Italy. And update: we do indeed get to go to the Vatican! I'm going to have so much fun...

Yesterday afternoon, a kid in our group did thirteen shots of Absinthe (the green fairy drink) and got alcohol poisoning, and two girls had to help him back to the hotel where he was puking, half-passed out, and talking to dead rockers, including David Bowie. The hotel gave him a 750 Euro (that's roughly 900 dollars) cleaning bill for that, though apparently he only puked once on premicis. That is pretty damn steep. Yeah, kids are pretty brilliant.

Last night was pleasant. Becca, Austin (who, I don't know if I mentioned this, is an actor in the Rocky Horror production that used to be at Specrocenter Mall), and I walked around town and talked, listened to the streetside players, and hung out at the Pope's Palace (this used to be a Catholic area, like Vatican City), which is gorgeous. There was a guy singing Gregorian chants in the palace courtyard, and his voice carried all the way to the far ramparts where we were. Apparently, the best ice cream in the world is sold in a sidewalk stand on the main street, though I was not hungry enough to eat any last night.

Today was the bus tour of the Provance area, during which we saw the ampitheater and the Roman aquaducts, and a beautiful little town on a hillside. Austin found an entire store dedicated to Absinthe in the latter town and bought an entire kit, including a full bottle of the stuff. What the holy fuck is with this group's obsession with Absinthe, anyway? I see it literally every two hours, maybe three. In any case, he wants to do up shots tonight, "properly", and play poker, so I foresee being the designated sober person again in case David Bowie and Dave Gahan need to be told to stop playing hopscotch in the corner, or something (though, if I had any say in it, they would be welcome to stay a while). I want to snag some ice cream and look in the Chinese store again before that, though.

In the ampitheater town, I saw a coin machine on the corner of one of the cobblestone strees that spat out .HACK and Pokemon figures in plastic spheres, which greatly amused me since the town seems very rustic. It was a gorgeous town. Somebody had drawn a (well-drawn) four-panel Calvin and Hobbes strip on a back-alley wall. A shop there sold music boxes with selections such as "Imagine" and "Let it Be", which made me happy.

I finished Sabirel and started Maskerade (which is Terry Pratchett poking the Phantom of the Opera with a stick), which is funny, as is usual for Discworld, and the allusions to the musical make me happy.

Right, I am out of time for today. I will hopefully talk to you all again soon.

Current Location: Avignon, France
Local Time: 3:53 PM

Wow. I'm updating sooner than I thought I would be. You guys just can't get rid of me yet.

Oh, Annie, I said "What the fuck?" on your blog because your subject was "And Seishirou's last words were 'Tainted Love'...", which I was wondering about. But, I can see him singing that song at karaoke. That and 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun'.

Today we got up early to catch a bullet train to Avignon. It was about a three hour ride, and nifty, though I half-slept through the entire thing. It went very quickly. Some kid almost broke the bathroom door on the bus. I assume since he said it wouldn't flush, he was not supposed to be able to open the door in the first place, and we were not supposed to be using it. Sometimes the IQ of my group is staggering. We settled down in the hotel and discovered that, contrary to prior belief, the Marquis de Sade's palace is not here (damn!). The boys crashed, and Becca and I left with the mission of finding an internet cafe, since both of us like to keep tabs on things overseas. We ended up getting lunch and shopping beforehand. Becca got a lot of Bohemian-styled 'girly clothes', and I caved and got a fitted, black, tunic-length top with a waist-sash. It's cute, sort of Russian-soldier like. I dislike spending money on clothes, but since I seldom find things I like, I got it.

Washing my clothes in the sink ended up not working so well. This is not Arizona air; things do not dry. My clothes were up on a twine line laced from doorspring-to-lamp for well over 12 hours, and did not dry an iota beyond what I did with the hair dryer. Now I wonder if it is not so odd that I am the only person who wanted to pack lightly and wash every few days. Spending money and time at the laundromat is starting to sound attractive.

I like my new top. I shouldn't go into the Chinese store across the street. I need to be conservative with my money. I already saw that they have the exact same shirts Kaity and I got about a year ago at the Asian festival (the blue vs red ones), which was cool.

Oh, the restaurant at which Becca and I ate today was a cafeteria, sort of Souper Salad meets Luby's, and the family-friendly ads on the windows were in pseudo-anime style. And, at the bullet train station in Paris, two different stands sold French manga. They had, among other titles, MARS, Saiyuki, Chobits, GTO, and Fruits Basket. This all greatly amused me.

Tomorrow, we are taking a long guided tour of I-forgot-what, and I will see how tonight bodes. Thank you so much for commenting and reading all of these posts. You all have no idea how much it means to me.

Current Location: Paris, France
Local Time: 4:31 PM

Since tomorrow is a traveling day, I probably won't be able to check up until Friday, hopefully even then.

After leaving the cafe last night I did indeed go to the hookah bar, after taking advantage of the country's lax drinking laws and mixing some of Danielle's beer, which is utterly disgusting by itself, with the juice I had originally bought because I was wary of my body's reaction to alcohol. It runs unfavorably in my family. Becca had a drink that tasted rather good (Smirnof-however-you-spell Ice), and that is apparently pretty mild, so I will keep it in mind. I don't know if I got more of a buzz from the beer or the hookah, but I did get one, and while interesting, it wasn't all it is cracked up to be. We had a blast at the hookah bar, though. The place is a charming, relatively-clean Indian mock-up with interesting French-Mediterranean music. Since I was in here being an obsessive journalist (blogger sounds so much worse), I missed getting to smoke hookah with Mrs. Miller. Mike got a picture of himself smoking with her, and I desperately want one of my own. It's something to hang on the wall.

And, by the way, hookah is perfectly legal and very mild, so don't freak out (Whitney). I wouldn't suck smoke with a mild stimulant into my lungs every night as a rule, but it seems like it would be fine once in a while. I did choke a few times, which made Becca, Michael (who is just sitting next to me and confirmed that he laughed hard), and Austin laugh.

Today was the Louvre, which was staggering. People do not exaggerate when they speak of its size. I got a picture of the Monna Lisa, which is actually only about the size of letter paper and was obscured around a pack of tourists. I was (annoyingly) sure to get a picture in front of the glass pyramid, testimony to my like of The Da Vinci Code, and Danielle and I took immature pictures with the nude statues. Austin left the pod-of-five to go and see Jim Morrison's grave site, and the rest of us walked around looking for places to shop, ended up not shopping, and taking the metro back to the hotel. Here I am now, after I walked the opposite direction of the cafe and Michael chased me down to show me where it is, again. I'm oriented now. I swear. I need to stop being so out-of-it all the time. Maybe I'll remember directions then.

Ah, yes, the Paris Metro. It's cool. I know I say that because of the novelty, but today, to somebody who has never taken a proper underground, it was cool. It's fast and relatively clean, though confusing at times, and musicians set up shop and play in some of the tunnels between platforms. I wonder how it compares to the JR (Japan Rail, the Tokyo subway, about which I have had to write in two different stories), the London Underground, or the New York subway.

I may take advantage of the laundromat today before we go off to smaller towns. I packed lightly, assuming that I would just do laundry every few days, but things are not shaping up that way thus far. That is what the sink and the soap is for. Becca thinks I won't actually do it. I'll wash clothes in the sink and string them across the room just to spite her.

Time is almost up. Peace out.

Current Location: Paris, France
Local Time: 9:53 PM

I have significantly more time to talk now, which is good. The group moves very quickly, so I have seen and done a hell of a lot since I got here. According to Becca, I talk in my sleep, something that I only did intermittently back in the states, and apperently startled her out of sleep at 2:00 AM asking her if we were going to get a wake-up call. I do not remember doing that, and it isn't something I would freak out about when I was conscious. Weird.

We went to the Eiffel Tower last night after dinner. It is within walking distance of the hotel, and it lives up to the hype. Nobody was there to make X jokes with me, though. There were several signs along the walls warning people to be wary of pickpockets, which amused me. It is utterly gorgeous up there. Paris, by all accounts, is very white, especially in the older district around the tower. I looked for the Opera House from up there. I forgot to mention that, in addition to seeing Box 5, I could see the Apolo statue and the horses on the roof from the "All I Ask of You" scene, including the rearing horse Erik jumps on and screams when he is throwing himself a pity-party. I wanted to take a picture of myself lurking behind the horse.

But, I greatly digress. Eiffel Tower was incredible, and today was amazing as well. We got up and went to breakfast, where I poured salt into my cerial since I did not read the packet first (and I thought the milk had just gone bad at first; I'm pretty brilliant) and baggled some bread for snack purposes. I have made it a policy to eat as much as possible when food is "free", or already paid for, since food here is expensive. Paris is an expensive town; a popsicle costs about the equivalent of 4 American dollars.

Our first stop today was Versailles. It, also, lives up to all of the hype. It is incredible. Austin and I found it amusing that one of the Asian groups was being led around by a tour guide who was holding up a fan. I got a picture of that. He, Becca, and I got separated from our tour group for over half of the tour, so we just walked around by ourselves and talked about random stuff. It was an incredibly liberating feeling; I had started feeling a bit melancholy in the tour-group atmosphere. The tours are fascinating, and the guides know their stuff, but I can take so much of following a group silently. I had a blast just hanging out. Michael joined us after we met back up with the group to get our tickets for the gardens, which were also hardcore awesome. It is incredible to think of the uptake that must have required without modern golf carts and power clippers.

It was at that point that Becca and I decided that we were going to seize Versailles for her birthday, which is today. She's legal! We partied it up Versailles style.

After Versailles, we drove an hour to the charming village of Chartres to visit Chartres Cathedral, which is somehow affiliated with Notre Dame and, to me, is more impressive. Unlike at Notre Dame, where we just wandered by ourselves, we had an amazing tour guide who is also an author of several books on the cathedral, a British man with an incredibly soothing, academic voice named Malcom Miller. According to people who went last year, he is a prima donna, but he did not seem that way to me today at all. Danielle got a picture with him, which I wanted to get myself, but he was getting ready for another tour. Chartres itself, bar none, was a gorgeous cathedral. I decided that if Versailles is my regular home, Chartres Cathedral is my summer home. I'm just going to move in and set up a corner with a futon and a Wi-Fi laptop. The pure history of the stainted-glass windows, the stories and allegories they tell, and the history of the cathedral itself, is fascinating. I could ramble at length about it. Oh, yeah, the tour guide wins happy points for calling the Puritans 'ignorant vandals' or something, and then making fun of Americans for being founded by them. I love irreverence. Sometimes I especially love the British.

The town of Chartres itself is charming. Becca, Danielle, Austin, and I all visited the fairy shop at various points, which sold Ren Fair stuff but more expensive. The only thing I bought was Miller's book on the cathedral, which was the first souvineer I purchased. I am trying to spend as little money as is possible, since baggage room is bursting already and I need to consider Expo and the day-to-day cost of being here. Honestly, the trinkets aren't worth their ridiculous price, but get me into a bookstore with English books... I love me. I'm pretty hardcore-badass nerdy.

We got back to the hotel, where I crashed hardcore (dead-asleep) before dinner, which was excellent, and here I am at the internet cafe, making Danielle wait while I ramble on at length (Sorry!). I can't wait to talk in person, where I have a captive audience and no hinderence of this keyboard, but my speed has already doubled since the beginning of the hour. I do not know if I will be able to find cafes anywhere but Paris, after talking to Becca, who went last year, most doubtfully in Greece, somewhat doubtfully in Rome. This is inspiring. I want to write, dammit! I have my ghetto-fabulous notebook with all the stuff taped on it, so I can take notes, at least. Tomorrow morning we are going to the Louvre (which is optional, and I do not know who would not want to go), which is going to be badass awesome (I'm going to be just like Robert Langdon! Nerds represent!), and after that, we have a free day. I think my posse wants to go to the red light district and see the Moulin Rouge. The day after, I think, we leave Paris.

I am going to the hookah bar to visit Becca, Michael, and Austin now. If I am in the right mood, I might try some, but I bet I won,t like the stuff. I tend to dislike the pollutant-feeling, though I like incense. I'll give it a shot if it's cheap enough.

On random news, I am seriously considering switching out of English IV AP to take Humanities, which is a better class not governed by a standardized test (one place that belongs least of all is a literature class, but there is an AP art test... WTF? Standardized art?), and I have had the Don Juan Triumphant song stuck in my head all day ("Don Juan triumphs once again"; he wishes he was). Erik may be a genius musician and whatnot, but his writring skills are pretty cringe-worthy.

I'm leaving for real this time. Later.

Current Location: Paris, France
Local Time: 6:10 PM

I am typing on a European keyboard, and I am on a time restraint, so this message will have to be short. It has taken five minutes to type this much.

I am here! I have been itching to write down notes for the people back home. It makes me realize how much I am going to miss just giving my random thoughts. I am, uh, running very short on time, damn this keyboard.

I will not be able to upload pictures from here, by the way. I will have to show you guys when I get back. Getting out of here was long and tedious, but I was impressed by the in-flight movie selection, mostly because one option was Phantom. That made my flight. We got here at noon local time and started straight off on a tour to the Latin Sector, Notre Dame, and OMFG THE OPERA HOUSE. I took so many pictures of the interior. It is gorgeous, and exactly as it was in the movie, almost to a frightening degree. I got a picture of myself looking down a grille shaft for Erik, and standing atop the staircase like he was in Masquerade.

I got a picture of Box 5, but ran out of battery exactly as we got to the chandalier and the ampitheater. Curse it all: But, I am charging it up to go to Eiffel Tower this evening. We saw the Arc of Triumph.

I really wish I could type more, but time is running short, and I am typing very slowly on this. I will try to find a better place with an American keyboard so I can type in more depth, and with more time.

Current Location: Paradise Valley, Arizona, USA
Local Time: 2:48 PM
Current Sound: Depeche Mode -- "Enjoy the Silence (Barcelona Soldiers of Dance Remix)

I finally got the FTP to work so I can publish to my domain. Eventually, I will move Anti-Shell Matter over to the domain. Problem will be re-doing all of the links.

I have yet to pack, really look over the itinerary, hell, and really look over the packing list itself. I'm not even sure if I leave Saturday or Sunday, technically. This is how un-organized I am. Tomorrow is the last day of school, so I will have time to really go over things before I leave.

If there is anything else trip-worthy to post in here, I will add it. Otherwise, I will see you on the other side of the lake.