some things went right, some things went wrong, and some things went real wrong.

I got back to Italy around 7:30- 4 hrs later than planned. I think I've been here long enough to develop pet-peeves regarding specific European character traits. For example, the complete inability to form a line- and then wait your turn. Or the need to be the first on or off a train, metro, boat, etc. And most importantly- the lack of attention to detail. And I don't mean "put a comma here" attention to detail, I mean day of the week, necessary time of arrival, or reading an email the whole way through.

Once I got to my room (with ac) I lay down to close my eyes for 20 min. I wake up 14 hrs later spooning my pack and still wearing my shoes. A way too necessary shower and cup of coffee later- I am out living the dream again. Florence is- as mentioned before- an absolutly beautiful city. Home of many of the worlds greatest artists- fashion fashion fashion- and also has the worlds best gelateria.

Followed by one amazing siesta and a super tense Spain v Germany game. I spent the evening with some great people. 2 of which were sisters from San Diego. Word got out that the youngest of the sisters just turned 18 and graduated from a private (catholic) all girls school. It was a matter of seconds before every d-bag in a 4 mile radius was at our table. One of which was also from San Diego. And 32. My australian friend Josh and I had noticed him way earlier in the evening- and we began to call him 'situation'. (if you're not with it- that means he looked like a guido. And if you're really not with it- that means he was Italian, too tan, too many muscles for his 5'4 body, too much hair gell, and too many rinestones on his t-shirt. And from jersey.) so- situation is a personal trainer.
I quote, west coast guido: "do you know Tyler Perry? guess how I'm here and not working for a month?"
Josh turns and looks at me: "do you think it's cool that he is Tyler perry's personal trainer?"
Me: "Nope. Because Tyler Perry is still fat."
Crickets.. Crickets..

The next day was more walking and looking and stopping to stare at things in pure shock and awe. I met a girl from Canada and we ended up walking down the river for hours while I listened to her tell me about her grandfathers life story- which is awesome.
We rubbed a bronze boar's head for good fortune, pretended to shop in prada, cavali, and mui mui, then indulged ourselves for lunch at italy's world known and continuously voted best gelateria- vivoli. Great gadsby! I got tiramasu- and every bite tasted like I was eating a cream filled cloud.

Remember me talking about Phil and Anthony? The 2 guys I met in Lisbon who were so tight? Phil is living here in Florence for school for a few months and he took us out for an evening in Florence. A beautiful evening. Walking by sunset on the river- a bomb Italian lasagna with plenty of chianti. (the Tuscan specialty) then we ended the evening outside on a stairway surrounded by famous statues listening to a guy sing Paul Simon songs.

Livin the dream.

8am the next morning and were off to cinque terre. With a pit stop in Pisa.
My pitiful attempt to push the tower over. Don't look to close.

And I'm embarassed to say- but we spent more time inside of the mcdonalds than at the tower. But hey-the golden arches had ac in a city with no shade.

5terre is a beautiful, humid as hell, charming corner in Italy. Which can be difficult to get to- so naturally the Italian trains were on strike the day I arrived in the port city. We made it- no details necessary.
Cinque terre consists of 5 small villages spread across the cliff coast. (this is the first one- riomaggiore, where i stayed) From the first to last it is about 9 kilometers apart. And 5terre is known for it's beautiful trails connecting them all together. More on that later. Keep reading- I promise it's a great story.

Day 1- sleep.
Day 2- beach. And a suprise guest apperance from "type a Erin". Around 630 in the evening a biopolar/a.d.d. "dj" began to ruin my life. For 6.5 hrs. we were forced to listen to the crappiest songs i've ever heard with the same bass riff that gave me nightmares. Don't get me wrong- lady gaga changed my life. But bad romance 3 times in 20 min. is too much. "tonight's gunna be a goodnight..." no- no it's not. I could press play on an Elton John cd better than this guy could dj.
Day 3- I need to start a new paragraph for this one. I attempt "the 5terre challenge". This is the story of my graceful, yet epic fail.

Disspite the balogne from the night before, I was determined and hit the trails before 8am. The path from 1 to 3 (of the 5 cities) was amazing. And flat. I would do it again tomorrow. 3 to 4- straight up then straight down for over an hour. Then something happened from 4 to 5.

I'm lost.
How? No idea.
Hundreds of people do this everyday with no problems? Me- 5 hrs. later I realize I can't see the ocean anymore, (bad sign) or any other people for that matter. (real bad sign) Then- like a movie- a bee drops right infront of my face completely silent. He turns on his "bzzzzzz" and then 19 of his friends come to join. (well it was that many in my mind- it could have been 2, blame it on the sun.) Then I begin to run. I've never been stung by a bee so I have no idea what happens and I'm not about to find out in, seriously, the middle of nowhere Italy. I'm running- and then I'm vomming. And rather than think about how i might die from bee stings, i'm thinking about how i can't wait to blog about this. out of nowhere 2 Italian women walk up to help (turns up I'm right outside of a church. a sign?) the ladies keep asking me what's wrong and all I can say is "I'm scared!!!" and I was!! All those dang bees were circling around me as I ran. It was like a pixar movie gone wrong. And the closest village was 4 km away. and to my americans- that's like... far. somewhere between 2.5. and 3 miles.

I found a road and walked. And walked. then I played out every possible situation in my head while I did something that my mother will disown me over. I hitch hiked. And because I knew I shouldn't do this- the next car was full of beautiful dark skinned light eyed young men that I would love to bring back to Texas with me. They offered to give me a lift and I said, "are you sure?? I promise I'm not a creep!" and one of the guys responded with, "I think we're the ones that are supposed to say that to you!" I can't even hitch hike right! Just to add on to the embarassement- when my knights in shining armour dropped me off at the train station so I could get back to my hostel, I looked back at where i was sitting and i had covered the seat of their rental car in mud and sweat. oh my life. (so I didn't get raped or murdered, but I did learn my lesson. Just in an extremely girlie kind of a way.)

So at the end of the day I had this total feeling of being a bad-ass from being a dumb-ass. So I ate gelato.

I'm thinking about retracting my statement about 5terre being a charming corner in Italy- still beautiful, oh yes. The beaches are rocks. Hot rocks. So when you find a comfortable position- don't moove because you will get jabbed in the ribs or spinal cord. It's hotter and humider than anywhere ever. And after our suprise and loud visit from "Malawi Wowwie" on the last night I want to sleep. But Italians are loud, their kids even louder, and waiters drop plates here like it's their job. All at 7am. So the French beach gets a chance now. And hopefully some of them can manage to keep their tops on this time.

a serving of lyon with a side of barcelona.

''those french, they have a different word for everything!'' -steve martin


i finally made it to lyon, france!! (which might actually be hotter than texas!) if you haven't had the pleasure of meeting my friend ines, let me enlighten you... ines is french and made the best decision of her life 2 yrs ago when she decided to study law abroad at the university of texas in austin (hook em horns!) we both lived at the taos coop and became great friends- we've seen eachother once in this last year and right on arrival it felt like only a few days.

for 9 months I helped explan not only america, but texas to ines and now it is her turn. i couldn't be happier to let someone tell me what to do, make all the decisions, and read metro maps for me. you see- ines speaks french! and english! so basecally i don't have to think for a whole week!!

i never thought i was one of those people before. and by "those people" i mean someone who takes pictures of their food- and then talks about it forever. turns out i am! first- bread. OMG. you haven't had bread until you have had bread in france. they wouldn't even let me look at bread if it was over 8 hrs old. cheese- thank you for ruining everything i ever thought i knew about cheese. and i will speak in great detail later on about croissants, cakes, ice cream, and cafes later.

[before I continue on with this blog I must make a life lesson update that I forgot to mention in Germany.
Life lesson #4- try everything.

Like Germany- remember I was not that excited but I loved it? I also tried veggiemite- ewwww gross.]

My first night in Lyon was the US v Ghana match. Here I learned....

Life lesson #5: boys are the same in every country.

Example- the French are very passionate people, and about 2 things in particular: politics and futbol. And when the 2 mix it is BAD NEWS BEARS. (if you weren't aware- the French were horrible at the world cup this year. In true French fashion the team went on strike, refused to practice, and lost. I have never heard the word shame used so many times.)

During the game we had an unfortunate encounter with a bitter (drunk) French man who was obviously looking for a fight. Prime location- the only Irish pub in Lyon overflowing with Americans and britts. After 15 min of "STUPID AMERICAN BOYS!!!" and "OH YEAH? WHERE'S YOUR TEAM?!?" the men were finally asked to leave. Testosterone runs deep no matter where you are!

The next morning I spent some quality time with Ines' mother and aunt who was visiting from Algeria. We went to a few different markets where everyone was told I was a visitor from Texas. "TEXAS!??!?" then I would brace myself for eggs being pelted in my direction or verbal abuse regarding a certain president from which I share a home state with- but no!!! I was given gifts!!! (like a planner and a mini empty perfume bottle.) one of my European goals has been to eat cheese that is illegal in the US. The cheese lady (yes I said cheese lady- her job is to know cheese) picked out cheese just for me!!! Now I'm thinking of beginning an underground cheese smuggling operation.

On a side note- In the 5 days I was in lyon I saw more midgets than I have seen in my whole life.

We went on walks through beautiful parks, took naps in the shade of massive trees, visited art museums, had deep conversations, visited with friends over drinks (with an amazing translating Ines)- it was a real French life. I even bonded with little brother Nenito. (his actual name is Neno, but I couldn't resist the nickname.) we watched French pop music videos, ate breakfast, and debated over the gender of a tv personality. All in sign language.

So, the French only have shopping sales twice a year. It's like black Friday everyday for a week. Guess who was in france on the first day!!! Now, does this make me lucky or not? I would choose absolutly and completely insane. What am I doing?! Who do I think I am?! Why in the hell would I go shopping, IN FRANCE, one the day the whole country is going?if shopping were an event that had some type of championship event- the French would not screw this one up.

My favorite French pastime: cafes and pastries.Croissants, chocolate croissants, cakes, macaroons, and ice cream!! One afternoon we treated ourselves to the fanciest and most famous pasteria in all of Lyon.

This eclair changed my life. And for €7 (that's around $8.50) I was half expecting it to sprout arms and legs then give w little song and dance number. But still- it was the bomb. We spent hours at cafes (me the American weirdo with milk in her coffee) watching French people be French.

Well... I think I may take that favorite part back. My first favorite part was going back to Spain for a few days. I was instantly reminded how much I love this country the second we crossed the France-Spain border and those beefy hunky men came on board the train to check passports.

Remember tapas? That's the second reason I love Spain.
Remember €1 cervezas? That's the 3rd reason why.

Hot days and cool nights- 4th.

And a language I can understand- 5th reason.

My aunt Marla recently asked me in an email which place has been my favorite and where I would return to. This was my second time to Barcelona on this trip and i'm stopping by again on my way back to the states. There's the answer!

Our first full day in Barcelona we spent on the beach- 8hrs- like it was our job. Ines slept and I counted how many Asian women walked by and asked if we wanted a "massa" (massage) I was at around 32 before I got distracted by the way too loud indian men walking around screaming "BOBOBOBOBO" which I gathered translated to 'coconut'.
The beach was PACKED!

This is the best shot I could get to show the situation- but I had to dodge the topless women who shouldn't have been topless.

We were fortunate enough to be in BCN for the Spain game. Which was won in quite a dramatic fashion! While Ines was taking full advantage of her holiday (aka- sleeping) I met 2 boys from Wales who might have possibly changed my life and made my way to one super tight nightclub. RAZZMATAZZ!! 5 floors, 4 different rooms (one with drum and bass- the first I've seen in Europe. I couldn't resist) 2 terraces and 5000 people. Usually I would run screaming from these situations- but I loved it. There were no high-heels or boys in shirts that have been bedazzled.

On a side note- I can't help but mention how upon returning to the hostel around 5am there was the most insane line to use the computers. Facebook. All these drunken new BFFs that MUST be fb friends and keep intouch forever. (but avoid all the following morning because they don't remember any details from the night before.)

The next day I sadly said, "hasta luego" to Ines and had to hit the pavement. (merci boqu, Ines!) I tried to squeeze in as much as I could. First the Picasso museum. Pablo P and I have something in common, this is our love for dauschounds. His dog was named Lump. And he was so bad ass that P included him in many of his paintings- which are all in Barcelona. Seeing these were on my list of "don't bother coming home if you don't do this". Done- but I'm still not coming home yet.

Then a Gaudi architecture tour through the city. This man basecally ran this town in the early 1900s. Madman or genious? My vote is for C- all of the above.
google the cathedral "la sagrada familia" the holy family. It's been under construction for about 1 million years- after the war all of gaudi's notes and measurements were destroyed and modern day architects still can't figure out the right formulas to finish. Random different local architects have been adding sparatic pieces on to the cathedral. In my opinion, it will be the most tacky and out of place thing in exhistance of the whole entire world.

A thunderstorm then hit as did thr night- being July 4th and all I couldn't help but get a burger, a beer, and watch the lightening pretending to be fireworks.

Back to Italy- with absolutly no help from the French or the Italian.