Category Archives: Europe

Eating Escargot in Paris

March 10, 2017 Beth Leave a comment

June, 2013

This morning, my new friend Georgia suggested we go to Sacré Couer, the cathedral on the hill, in the sun, with a gorgeous view of Paris. Good idea! She deduced we could get off at the stop ‘Place de Clichy’ which she didn’t know how to pronounce, and so said, ‘Place de Thingy’. Off we went to the cathedral. We arrived at the correct station, and began our walk.

The cathedral came into sight and I was in awe. It is beautiful. We stopped at an ice cram stand nearby and bought a few scoops to enjoy on the hill. As we walked up the first steps, Georgia told me to hide my wrists. I was puzzled, but did as she said. We turned the corner and were accosted by vulturous men grabbing at our arms, trying to tie bracelets on our wrists, forcing us to buy them! I kept my head down and my arms crossed. I kept walking and ignoring him, and he finally left me alone. Phew. I checked Georgia’s wrists to ensure she had survived the trip too. Bracelet-less! Double phew! We found a spot halfway up the hill and set up camp. I ate my decadent Parisian ice cream and Georgia had a nap. I watched the people walking by, taking photos, holding hands, kissing, drinking beer, it was so lovely.

We were both quite hungry, and so grabbed a table on the patio of a cute little French bistro up the hill in Mont Marte. The waiters at this place were the flirtiest bunch I have ever encountered. We came to the conclusion that it is in their job description: clear plates, take orders, brush patron’s hair out of their eyes, constantly wink and smile. We ordered a carafe of Bordeaux.

Maybe it was the delicious red wine, maybe it was the flirtatious French men, maybe it was just the love in the air. Whatever it was, I was inspired to take the leap and try escargot! The little snails arrived to the table in a funny little dish, and they smelled amazing. You know what? I actually really liked it! How could I not? Anything doused and cooked in that much garlic and butter is going to be an instant hit with me. They tasted kind of like mussels. I was quite pleased with my French wine and my French dish and flirtatious French waiters. We finished our wine and paid the bill. As we left, the waiters grabbed at us, tried to pet our chins, touched our arms, kissed our hands. I was amazed, and totally uncomfortable. We walked past the cathedral and down the hill, guarding our wrists again from the bracelet vultures.

We found the metro stop and it was time to say goodbye to Georgia. One of the the most amazing things about traveling is how quickly you can make friends, and then as quickly as you connected, they are gone like the wind. I think it is such a magical thing to be able to share a beautiful day or two days, or week, or whatever, with someone, divulge all your dreams and hopes and fears, and then part ways. With a stranger is the safest place to keep a secret

Europe, Travel Stories

Taking Goat Selfies in the Amsterdam Forest

March 3, 2017 Beth Leave a comment

May, 2015

Sally and I went on a bike ride to the Amsterdam forest today! The ride there through the city was quick and once we entered the forest, super tall trees towered over the path and shaded us from the sun. Everything was so, incredibly green. It was stunning. We found a field by a lake and decided to camp out there. We put our picnic blanket in the shade of a nice tree, took off our shoes, and got out our books. The temperature was 25 degrees and there were no clouds in the sky, both rarities of Amsterdam in May.

We spent a few hours by the water, consistently distracted by the other people in the field. A group of teenagers sat nearby, smoking and looking cool. An old Dutch woman sat, topless, her saggy, yet remarkably firm breasts hanging out, next to where some children were playing a rousing game of football. An extremely handsome man came over to the water front and played fetch with his dog. The time got away from us.

When it was time to move on, we packed up our things and asked the handsome dog guy for directions to the goat farm. Yes. The goat farm. He had no idea where it was, so we went in the opposite direction of where he said it wasn’t… We biked through what Sally called, “carpets of flowers” which were beautiful, and a bunch of tall ass trees!!! We really didn’t know where we were headed until I saw a sign that said something about “geiten” and an arrow pointing down a path we hadn’t gone down yet. I pointed the direction of the sign’s arrow, and exclaimed “THAT WAY!” We cycled and Sally asked how I knew. I told her the sign said “geiten” which means goat in Dutch. How do I know that? From eating so much goat cheese.

We arrived at the goat farm and jumped right in. Literally. We climbed into the goat’s pen. Pen? Cage? Room? Anyways. There were tons of them. AND PIGS! They came over to us and nibbled on our clothes, backpacks, shoelaces, hair, really anything they could put into their mouths. Instead of being annoyed with the goats for doing this, we took the opportunity to take a million selfies with them. They came so close, and probably assumed we had food in our hands, when we held our phones out, they sniffed them. I have a million goat selfies. This is not a thing I am ashamed of. I think these are the best selfies I have ever taken. Hands. Down. Soon, the goats nibbling on our clothes, backpacks, shoelaces, hair, and really anything they could put into their mouths, DID become annoying, and it was time to leave. We went to the washroom to wash the shit off our shoes (and Sally’s pants), and scrub our hands.

Europe, Travel Stories

A cheesy day in Alkmaar, Netherlands

February 3, 2017 Beth Leave a comment

April, 2015

I woke up this morning at about 6:30am because the early bird catches the cheese! I rolled out of bed, grabbed an orange and a granola bar, put on clothes and head out the door. I met Rebecka, Line, Tine, and Fanny at Centraal station at 7:30. Phew it was early. It’s my own fault, it was my idea to meet this early. We caught the train and in no time, we arrived in Alkmaar! We were here to partake in the infamous Alkmaar cheese market. We wandered from the train station to the main square. On the way, we found ourselves caught up in a cluster of old people getting off a bus. They were slow moving and seemed to be creaking as they walked. We were able to outrun this gaggle of geezers and we reached the square. It was empty. I felt silly. First of all, I forced my friends to wake up SO early, and second, we dipped and ducked through that hoard of octogenarians like our lives depended on it, only to find there was no reason to rush. Line, Tine, and Fanny decided to go for a coffee, and Rebecka (bless her) and I stood in the front row, waiting for the show to begin.

It did and I couldn’t stop giggling. We were introduced to the Cheese Father, but I couldn’t figure out why he was called the Cheese Father, or what his significance was other than his orange top hat and silver cane. The 13kg wheels of gouda cheese were loaded onto cheese boards and run from the stacks to the weigh house, then back to the wagons. There were people walking around tasting, examining, and buying the cheese.

It was such a silly, hilarious event. Rebecka and I were even able to hold a wheel of cheese! We didn’t last for the entire show, because the tourists behind us were becoming very aggressive. One man kept using my shoulder to steady his camera. The woman next to me took around 300 photos. I was being pushed into the gate like I was at a rock concert. We snuck out of the crowd.

We went to the cheese museum next, so we could have a free piece of cheese, and learn a bit more about the cheese processes. After all the cheese-centric activities, the only thing missing was beer. We sat on a patio boat outside the beer museum, and enjoyed a nice, cold beer.

Today was brought to you by cheese! I just wrote “cheese” 13 times…14 if you include this sentence.

Europe, Travel Stories

Taking in a Sex Show in Amsterdam

January 27, 2017 Beth Leave a comment

April, 2015

Kelsey and I decided to do what every British ‘Lad’ does when they come to Amsterdam on a Monday night— go to the Red Light District! We wandered around the streets, in all their Monday night glory, which could be confused for Friday or Saturday night glory, honestly. It was very busy! We were enthralled by the prostitutes in their windows. They were beautiful!! I don’t know what I expected. I thought maybe Monday’s prostitutes wouldn’t be as good as Friday’s? At any rate, I was an uncomfortable, prudish Canadian, and awkwardly smiled at each when I accidentally made eye contact after they tapped on the glass, coaxing me to look. We were surrounded by men, mostly British, mostly drunk.

After a lap of the main two streets, we decided to take the leap! We walked into the Moulin Rouge, paid our entry, and were ushered up the stairs. We jumped at the opportunity, to sit in the very front row! We took our seats, ordered our drinks, and eagerly awaited the show to start. Please note, that words used in the rest of this story include, ‘breasts,’ ‘vagina,’ ‘sex,’ and ‘cum’. Viewer discretion is strongly advised.

The first lady of the evening was dressed in a sexy milkmaid outfit, and brought a banana out with her. She came down from the stage to choose volunteers from the audience, but not before she took Kelsey’s hands, put them on her breasts, and shimmied. Kelsey exclaimed, “they’re real!” The stripper said, “I’m saving for silicone!” and laughed. She brought up four audience members. They were all so embarrassed. It was great! She danced a little, took off her clothes, and then slapped each of the ‘volunteers’ in the face with her tits. It was amazing. I didn’t even know breasts could do that! She peeled her banana, took a chunk off and held it in her mouth. One of the guys had to eat it! She put the next piece in between her breasts. The next piece, she put on her stomach. The last piece was still in the peel, and she put it in her vagina. The faces of the guys on stage were as red as cheeks could be. She would be my favourite of the evening. The next woman lit a candle and balanced it in her vagina as she somersaulted and rolled all over the stage. The next kept a ribbon bundled up inside her and had an audience member hold one end as she danced around the stage and on the pole, and the ribbon unraveled.

Then it was time for the main event. The woman walked out wearing a cape, devil horns, and she carried a giant book. Then the man came out wearing a mask and a cape. She undressed, then he undressed, then they had sex. You know what, it was actually quite boring! The woman made not one facial expression. At all. It was robotic, forced, and very anti-climactic. Literally. Not that a cum shot would have made the show any less exciting, but it would have been a less uncomfortable way to end the show. I am glad we did it, because ‘when in Rome’, but I don’t think I would see a sex show again. Unless it was the banana girl, she was highly entertaining.

red-light-district — Photo by @seattletoshanghaiandbackagain

Europe, Travel Stories

Celebrating Midsommer in Sweden

December 16, 2016 Beth Leave a comment

June, 2015

I arrived at Bastad station and met up with Rebecka and her friends. This weekend I would be celebrating Midsommer, a wondrous and whimsical Swedish holiday. First order of business— Midsommer crowns. Andrea, the resident florist, arrived with bushels of flowers and we all began fabricating our head attire. Fredrik’s crown was probably the most impressive, but Rebecka’s ended up being the perfect size and maybe my favourite. I was impressed with mine.

Considering it was my first time ever fastening together a bunch of flowers and creating a flowery head piece, I thought I did quite well! next was the Maypole. This quickly became my favourite part of the holiday. We erected a big, cross-shaped Maypole, and decorated it with lots of flowers and leaves. We hung big wreaths under each arm. It ended up looking a bit like an upside down penis. But it was beautiful and was fun to decorate! We covered the thing in greenery and used up all the leftover flowers.

Then, as if this holiday couldn’t get any more whimsical and wholesome, we all joined hands and danced around the Maypole. Everyone laughed and sang Swedish songs, while we all skipped around the pole. I was laughing my butt off. THEN we danced like frogs and sang a song about frogs. I love this holiday. I love this holiday so much.

And then we started drinking. I knew my friends back home would look at me sideways if I told them we danced like frogs around a penis shaped Maypole covered in flowers, and weren’t drunk.

We all gathered around the table and began dinner. Another Midsommer tradition during dinner is to drink Schnapps. The idea behind this, is that if you drink a little bit of schnapps in between servings, you will have more room for food! The schnapps are about 30-40% alcohol and only poured to about 1/3 of the shot glass. Phew! I had one and that was that. It seemed though, the more schnapps the boys drank, the louder and more frequent the singing became. Each song leads to a cheers and another little shot. Phew! These boys can drink.

Rebecka, bless her, felt bad that I didn’t know any of the songs, so she tried to teach me. She sang a line and then I repeated it. We got through the whole song and she said, “wow! You are picking it up so fast!” She clearly can’t hear what I am actually saying…

The party was in full swing. People were dancing, drinking, laughing, chatting. Then Hampus turned off the music. “It’s time for a night swim” he said. Yay!!! I grabbed a towel from the closet in the washroom, and joined the others outside. We began the walk down the steep hill. I may have been drunker than I thought, because I started singing the Indiana Jones theme song and didn’t really stop. Fredrik put his towel around his neck like a cape and I held the end out so it looked like it was blowing in the wind. We passed by the neighbour’s house and they watched us walk by. I was softly singing Indian Jones, and Fredrik walked with a towel cape around his neck.

We found the beach! It was actually harder to find than it sounds like it would be. As soon as we walked into the sand, my clothes were off. I ran alongside my friends through the sand and into the VERY cold and VERY shallow water. We ran for ages and the water never actually passed our knees. There I was, 2 am, standing knee deep in the North sea, tits out, in my undies, watching the sun rise! How beautiful is this place?! Because it was so shallow, we all ran in, and then almost immediately ran back out. I dried myself off and put my clothes back on. I joined the rest of the group for a shot of gin, and we began our ascent back to the house. The hill was steep, but it felt good to arrive at the top. I sat on the stoop at the back door for a bit and watched the sky begin changing colours. Man oh man, how beautiful. It is 4am, and the sun is on its way up. Happy Midsommer, Sweden!

Helan går sjung hopp fallerallanallanlej, helan går sjung hopp fallerallanlej

Och den som inte helan tar, den heller inte halvan får

HELAN GÅÅÅÅÅR (this is when you drink your tiny shot of pure alcohol)

SJUNG HOPP FALLERALLANLEJ

My version was about falafels

Europe, Travel Stories

Cycling through Tulip Fields in the Netherlands

November 11, 2016 Beth Leave a comment

April, 2015

This morning, I met Sally at the bikes and after a quick stop at Albert Heijn for some picnic snacks, we cycled over to Centraal. There we met Rebecka, Line, and Lucinda, and began our epic adventure day! We rolled our bikes into the station and to the ticket machines. Sally informed us we were to train to a place called Voorhout. She did not know how to get there, just that we had to. I googled it, and it showed we had to train to Haarlem and then transfer to a Voorhout train. We bought the tickets and rushed down the platform to the train. There is nothing more awkward than walking a bike through a train station. Scratch that. There is nothing more awkward than taking a bike up an escalator in a train station.

Cut to five foreigners on a train gasping and squealing at the sight of every tulip field we past.

We arrived in Voorhout and were almost immediately lost. We tried to find the signs that were to guide us along the path, but we couldn’t find any. Finally, we consulted a map. Once we were on our way, we knew we were on the right path, because there were massive tulip fields everywhere. Tulips, tulips, tulips. What a beautiful and totally frivolous crop to grow. I love it. We cycled past fields and fields of them. We cycled past daffodils too, and then hyacinths, hyacinths, hyacinths. The smell of these flowers is intoxicating and almost suffocating. I couldn’t believe there were fields and fields of them.

We were lost again. And then again. The signs we were looking for were few and far between, and if we saw one, the numbers were so unsystematic, we had to keep referring to our guide to remember which number we were looking for next. The path was kind of a nightmare.

We cycled past the huge fields of Keukenhof and saw a guy surfing in the canals! He was riding a wakeboard and held onto a rope that was being wound in by a huge crank. A guy on a nearby ladder took epic photos of this guy wake boarding through tulips with windmills in the background. Oh Holland…

It was time for lunch, so we found a nice little green spot next to the tulip fields and spread out our picnic. It was nice to sit in the sun, smell the flowers, eat our snacks, and drink beer. And what lovely company with whom I shared this moment. We soon continued our cycling. I had to make a few executive decisions because at the rate we were going— stopping along the way to take pictures of/in front of/with every single tulip field we went by— we weren’t going to be done until midnight. We ditched the bicycle pathway and cut back towards Voorhout. We bicycled right past many tulip fields on the way, but one hyacinth field in particular had “photoshoot” written all over it! We took photos and videos in the fields, and I could have passed out from the smell. It was phenomenal.

After six hours of cycling through tulip fields, we had become desensitized to their beauty and on the train home, not one of us made a peep as we trained by the multitude of flowers. We were coming up to Haarlem and Line suggested we have dinner there! We hopped on our bikes and trained to the city centre. We found a patio square in the sun, near a cathedral and a carnival, and declared it the perfect place for dinner. I had a delicious sandwich and a well deserved glass of wine. After dinner, we walked over to the ferris wheel to inquire about prices. It was only €2 for a ride. How could we not. We rode that ferris wheel as the sun went down over the cathedral. It was the perfect end to the perfect day.

Europe, Travel Stories

Bicycling around Inis Mor, Ireland

November 4, 2016 Beth Leave a comment

May, 2013

After a somewhat bumpy ride over the sea, Jennine and I arrived on Inis Mor, one of the Aran Islands off the coast of Conamara. Rory was waiting for us and we all went to a tiny restaurant to have lunch before our epic bike ride. I chose the fish and chips because my stomach was desperate for it. After our quick bite, Jennine and I head over to a bike rental place and asked the man for two of his finest two-wheelers. The charge for the day is 10euro, but he requires a 10euro deposit as well. I was about to hand him a twenty to cover my own bike, and he said, “I feel terrible charging two beautiful girls full price.” He gave the bikes each for 5euro. What a deal! Then we were off!

I began the trip singing “Bicycle Race” by Queen, “Bicycle” by Hey Ocean, and “Bicycles are Red Hot” by TV on the Radio. My friends didn’t like it so much. I stopped singing upon their request, but also because I realized I can’t bicycle and sing at the same time. It’s not easy, especially when biking up hill after hill, against the wind, with rain spraying sideways into your face.

The view was beautiful and there is something so refreshing about the smell of the sea. As we biked along the path, with the water on one side, beautiful green pastures on the other, and the lovely aroma of burning turf in the air, I felt a spark of inspiration! I can understand why so many painters and poets have come to the west of Ireland to create— it is impossible to not feel inspired. There were donkeys and cows in the yards of the houses. I saw a sheep on a leash! We took lots of ridiculous photos, even in-action-selfies, which is probably the most dangerous thing I have attempted this whole trip, if I am being completely honest.

We were on our way back to the ferry dock. I didn’t realize that the ‘uphill both ways’ thing is physically possible, but it turns out on Inis Mor, it is! I was exhausted by the time we clambered onto the boat. My stomach let me know that it was having rough time with the fish and chips and I appreciated the warning. The wind picked up and I started to get anxious about the rocky ride back to the mainland. I decided to go to sleep and sleep through whatever motion sickness I was about to experience. It worked! I slept the whole time! I sat two rows ahead of Rory and Jennine so we could all have window seats. I woke up just as we were pulling up to the dock.

I looked behind me to find Rory and Jennine and they were nowhere to be found. I looked at the front of the boat, and then to the back, but I couldn’t spot them. Then the woman next to me said, “they came looking for you, and then said you’d figure it out…. Will you figure it out?” I smiled and nodded. She was so sweet. Then you know what? I figured it out! I stood up and saw the two of them standing by the door to race off as soon as we were able. We decided that it was imperative we sit at the front of the second floor of the double decker bus, and the only way we would be able to make it is if we RAN out of the ferry and to the bus. We did this. The bus arrived and the three of us ran like crazy people to the door. I hurdled over suitcases and children in what felt like slow motion. I am sure the people around me thought, “that girl should be in the olympics”. FOR sure. We made it! We sat at the very front of the bus and looked out the beautiful window at the beautiful countryside. That is, until the bus filled up with sweaty post-bicycling-bodies and the windows all fogged up.

Europe, Travel Stories

Sitting on an Ancient Patio in Ghent

September 23, 2016 Beth Leave a comment

We arrived in Ghent and instead of trying to figure our the tram system, we decided to walk to the hostel. It wasn’t too far. We wandered through the streets of this delightful little city, awe-inspired by the absurd number of castles we passed. The whole place is so picturesque.

We began our wandering. And wandering and wandering. We were quite tired, so stopped by the canal and relaxed for a little bit. We took a lovely slew of pictures and selfies. We awed again at the surroundings. Our panoramic view starting from the left included some beautiful canal buildings, next to an old canal bridge, next to more old, stone buildings, a clock tower, a cathedral, an abbey, another SUPER old canal bridge, and another cathedral. Wow.

You have all heard that saying, “when in Ghent, do as the Ghentians do,” right? So, we had waffles for dinner. They were delicious. Piled high, oh, so high with strawberries, drizzled with melted Nutella, and topped with just the perfect amount of whipped cream. Holy moly, how delicious was that?! I love waffles for dinner.

You know what I love almost as much as waffles for dinner? Candy for dessert. We bought a bag of typical Ghent candies called Cuberdons. They are little purple sugar cones, filled with goopy purple sugar liquid. Wow. We had one each and I felt a cavity grow in. The only thing I love more than waffles for dinner and candy for dessert, is beer for second dessert. We sat at a patio near a super old stone building, that has probably been there for 400 years, and asked our waitress which local beer she would recommend. She recommended to me, a dark beer, of which the name I can’t remember, but whose percentage was 10%. Rebecka had a blonde of normal people alcohol percentage. I warned the waitress that after one I was going to be drunk. She laughed. I wasn’t kidding.

We were a little drunk when we left the ancient patio. We wandered by a canal and our breath was taken! The wind had ceased and the water was almost perfectly still. We took about a million photos of the buildings and the water. We both had to pee, so we ducked into a little bar. When we emerged from the washroom, we realized it was actually a really cool place! We decided to stay here for a beer! The snacks on the board were all in Flemish, a language with which I am not very strong. We ordered the snacks that said ten of them came. I like ten of things. All of a sudden, two men began playing jazzy, bluesy music! One guy on a saxophone, and the other on a guitar. Wow! It was so wonderful. Rebecka and I were their biggest fans. No really, we were the only ones clapping the whole time. Soon, it was time to go back to the hostel. Home again, home again.

Europe, Travel Stories

Patio Sitting in Lisbon

September 16, 2016 Beth 3 Comments

Steph and I decided go for an adventure! We walked through the heat down to the centre. Steph confessed she had a wish for a big, cold glass of fresh lemonade. I hoped we could make it happen, but we weren’t optimistic. We took the shortcut through the metro, wandered through the streets until we found the monastery,and took the secret pathway beside it. It spit us out half way up a lookout point. We paid the €1 to walk up the stairs all the way to the top. The view was spectacular. I love climbing to the tops of things and looking out. It’s the best. We did a photo shoot and stayed up there for as long as could stand. We were both sweating alcohol out of our pores, and with nowhere for shade, we were overheating.

We walked back to Alfama to meet up with our friends. As we walked and talked, a kiosk caught my eye. LEMONADE! As if. AS IF there is lemonade! It was like a dream come true. We bought two cups and were the happiest girls in Alfama.

Processed with VSCOcam with g3 preset — Steph and I as the happiest girls in Alfama

The giant group of us (seven) wandered around the streets, searching for a dinner place. The problem with looking for a dinner place with seven, really easygoing people is that we will never find a place, because everyone’s, “easy.” As we weaved in and out of the streets, we spotted a BBQ at the end of a skinny lane. Perfect! Pateo 13 (Patio 13). We walked up and Yuri asked the man if we could sit at the free table outside. We sat down and the crazy yelling began. The waiter was talking to Yuri in Portuguese, and kept yelling sporadically at the man at the BBQ. I kept telling Yuri to order wine. He wasn’t responding to me. I talked over the yelling Portuguese, and said to Henrique, “can you order two bottles of red wine?” He didn’t react to me. Am I invisible? Rebecka and Kevin were just laughing! Everyone was yelling! It was CRAZY! I finally grabbed the waiter’s attention and said, “can we have two bottles of red wine, please?” The waiter laughed and yelled something at Yuri, who laughed along with Henrique. Holy moly! I just wanted wine. All of a sudden, we were ordering! The waiter left and I asked Yuri if he had ordered wine. He said, “don’t you worry. I would never leave you wine-less!” I smiled. Sure enough, the waiter came back with two bottles of red wine. Phew!

We had some great conversation. I don’t remember it all, but I remember laughing pretty much the entire time. Henrique said something about “cockfish” and we all laughed. He meant codfish of course, and this we all knew, but couldn’t help to laugh. The food was great, the wine went down too quickly, one bottle, two bottles, three bottles, then we left. We mostly left because the entire patio had closed down and we were being shooed by people hanging out of windows, clearly trying to sleep on this Sunday evening. Yuri knew of a little bar we could go to for more drinks. It was called Tasca, and it was here we sat outside around a table, and ordered another bottle of wine. Next thing we knew, a man came outside of the bar holding a bucket with a rope in it, attached to a stick. He placed the bucket down, held the stick in place, and began playing it like a bass. WHAT?! A man with a guitar joined him and they began playing music. I can’t believe he is playing a bucket with a rope and a stick. I don’t know when it happened, but the guitarist asked the crowd if anyone plays the melodica. Rebecka offered Kevin, the professional pianist, and his skills. The guitarist handed Kevin the melodica and we all waited with bated breath. Sure enough, Kevin rocked it. I think everyone, the musicians, the audience, and even Kevin were surprised at how good he was. “I’m salivating everywhere”, he said.

The bar closed down and we all parted ways. I fell asleep on a cloud that night in Lisbon.

A man playing a guitar and a man playing a bucket & rope!

Europe, Travel Stories

Being Devastatingly Cool in Madrid

September 2, 2016 Beth 2 Comments

We met up with a few of Miguel’s really cool friends at a devastatingly cool place. I ordered a Tinto de Verano and looked around. Everyone working there was unbelievably cool. I felt like the least cool person in the room. I for sure was. Because my cool is their lame. I can’t even fathom their cool. I can’t even get my brain there, to that level of cool. I was making up stories of their lives and telling Vanessa, our Mexican friend, what I thought. I pointed at a man wearing skinny jeans and an oversized grey T-shirt, his hair was half up and his cool tattoos were visible. He walked around with a cloth hanging out of his back pocket, and an iPad in his hand. He probably paints giant canvasses in his garage studio space. He works mainly with spray paints, but he dabbles in found objects, like broken pieces of chain link fence, and shattered light bulbs he finds in dumpsters. He has a bandana he wears over his face when he paints and he never listens to the same song twice while he is creating. Vanessa just stared at me. I want to go up to him and say, “I’d like you to paint me,” and see what he says. Maybe his next artistic challenge is to try to capture this level of uncool in a painting.

After we finished lunch, we walked over to Retiro park. We were going to rent row boats and go for a little cruise! Great idea!! Until I saw the water and the very little shade covering the water. Images of me, sweltering and melting in the heat, in a row boat in the middle of the water flashed through my mind. Not ideal. We decided against boats. I did see a very attractive man sitting by the water, sketching the big statue nearby. I thought about saying how great I thought his sketch was, and maybe asking him if he would like to sketch me next? I didn’t ask. Miguel told me I should always ask. Always! He said, “if you do nothing, it’s already the worst case scenario!” Good point!

The very attractive man sketching not me.

We passed a man playing the Game of Thrones theme song on his accordion, we each bought an ice cream, and then we found a shady area and lay down for a bit. Jasper napped, Miguel grinder’d, I unsuccessfully attempted to eat my ice cream faster than it melted, and ended up just licking the drips up my hand, forearm, and chin, like a lady.

Soon, it was time to move on. We were invited to a rooftop terrace— I could get used to hanging out with these folks, they are always going to cool places. I half expected Snoop Dogg to be somewhere, filming a music video. There was an infinity pool that nobody was swimming in, probably because swimming is not at all what you do at these sorts of places. But I really wanted to swim. I imagined going over to the edge, past all the stunning women and muscular men posing “candidly” for photos in the sunset. I would just taking my dress off to reveal my swimmers, and then dive in. People would either love it or hate it. I imagined how funny it would be. I asked the waiter if I could swim. He told me the pool was closed.