Carlo pulls a "Britney"

I'm so totally over my hair. Yep. Just like that: I've let go of my biggest vanity.

never again (riiiight!)

I woke up this morning in the Pangrati section of Athens in someone's bedroom. Yes, some of you are probably thinking, "So what's new?"

It was a girl's bedroom. WTF?

Woke up barefoot but fully clothed with no recollection about last night. All I remember was that I had gone out with two of my bunkmates--Chris (very hot 18 y.o. from Vancouver) and Luis (36 y.o. from Spain)--we started in the Plaka district and somehow we made it from bar to bar all the way east. We were downing ouzo and tequillas left and right.

My cell phone alarm went off at 7:45 am. It was early. Just wasn't early enough to catch my morning ferry to Mykonos.

I tried to make my exit without waking anybody up. It took me 10 minutes to figure out which door out of about 8 or 9 in the room was the exit. I finally figured that the one that wouldn't open and lead me into a room of more sleeping college girls was it.

I had to wake her up. The apartment itself had to be locked from the inside with a key. She had the key. Slightly relieved and terribly embarrassed.

Then I couldn't find my shoes. I walked out into the hallway, down the staircase as she locked the door. No shoes. OH SH*T!

I walked back upstairs but could not remember which apartment I had just left. I rang the bell on the door that I guessed was the one. Buzzed twice, no answer. I was freaking out. Then I heard her voice again (shame on me for not having bothered to even ask her name).

"They were in another room. You took them off last night and crashed on the couch."

Double relief. One, it confirms that I did not sleep with the american college girl and two, YAY! I don't have to walk back to the hotel barefoot!!!

After an hour and an half of trying to find my way back to the hostel, I realized that Chris hadn't made it back home last night either. He got back 30 minutes after I did.

The cold shower did little to relieve my throbbing (and probably newly deceased brain cells) but somehow I managed to get dressed, pack, say bye to the boys, check out and head on over to the travel agency to salvage what I could from the expired ticket I had in hand.

No suck luck. The ticket is non-transferrable. On top of the money I had blown partying last night, I had to buy another ferry ticket to Mykonos. I could have declined. I could have decided to go somewhere else. But the hotels in Mykonos and Santorini have already been booked. I would end up losing more money if I cancel my plans.

So I shelled out another 46.

Right now, I'm sitting outside my hostel room, stealing someone's wjavascript:void(0)i-fi signal and hoping to have it long enough to publish this entry. I have to sit tight because my ferry isn't until 4:30 pm and I have nowhere else to go that would give me free internet access and pure silence. I guess I should be thankful just to have a place to park. The lady downstairs was kind enough to leave me alone, considering I had checked out at 11:30 am.

Not so pleased with myself at the moment.

If not for my sheer childish excitement about Mykonos, I would be really, really, really depressed by now. Definitely NOT partying tonight. Unless a hot, olive-skinned island boy asks me out. Or any cute Aussie backpacker who had access to a shower this morning.

Oh, Athens!

Europe & the ex-smoker

My backpacking experience obviously does not come without issues. Smoking, in particular, waves a giant flag.

Jesse Taylor. Smoker: YES. European: NO. In Europe: NEIN.
This is my only available "smoker" pic at the moment.

"Everyone smokes in Europe, Carlo. I had quit smoking and was good for a few days or so until I finally gave in." My good friend, BU, told me as I wolfed down the last few bits of this awesome Turkish dinner he had prepared the night before my departure.

I'd been smoke-free since March 2007, very happy about it (thank you, Allen Carr!), and honestlly have since not craved a single cigarette. As Mr. Carr book promised, I did not suffer any withdrawal symptoms. I do, however, have these weird dreams of smoking.

In each dream, I don't realize I'd been smoking until I throw my cigarette away. Then I freak out so much that I wake myself up. So even though I feel far from "weak" I have this very conscious fear that it could still happen.

Ever since I started this trip, my fears have elevated. Like most ex-smokers set on staying smoke-free, I fear reverting due to:

• peer pressure
• sheer boredom
• intoxication
• mild tipsiness, heavy second-hand smoke inhalation
• sheer weakness (see last 4 items)
  
• stress and anxiety
  
• any other unforseen issue that may arise
  

I'm within the second week of my trip and at my 9th European city (Prague). So far, no moments of weakness, about 4 of "those dreams" and zero cigarettes smoke.

I can only hope for the best. If I fail, it will just have to be another journey back to being smoke free. But this is my chance to prove something to myself. This may also perhaps inspire BU himself.

Here's hoping I will succeed.

just another day in London

I haven't really done much aside from catching up with sleep and resetting my (retarded) circadian rhythm. Managed to take some photos while accompanying BB on his city bus tour.

::gag::choke::mini-puke-in-mymouth::

Here are some of them. The rest are on my flickr page. Click any photo to access the entire set.










I absolutely dislike city bus tours. For one, taking photos while riding these things leaves you too nauseated to do anything else. Had indian food.

Last night went very well. GK fooled me into thinking he was stuck somewhere and then showed up at my hostel. Too bad I wasn't there. Haha. BB and I were taking a stroll and got a little lost around Russell Square. We managed to meet up 20 minutes later. He was supposed to meet a friend and delayed that appointment so he could stop by and say hi.

He looks exactly like he does in his photos and sounds exactly like I imagined he would from his blog entries. He has such a great mind. Ok. I'm having another mail order bride moment--so what?

Can wait to hang with him in Berlin. Loving this trip so far.

you know you're in Europe when...

...it takes all of this just to recharge your MacBook!
It has officially sunk in. I'm in Europe.

Not too excited about being in London (my first stop) but definitely excited about a a few things while I'm here:


1. My Euro trip has begun: There's no turning back. Well, I can, but that would be hella embarrassing, wouldn't it? I'm thrilled, optimistic yet absolutely scared for my life.

2. Gerd is in London this week: I've known this beautiful man for YEARS and I'm finally going to meet him in person tonight! This makes me sound like a mail order bride, but I can't help but be giddy about our little rendezvous. He will be hosting me and my travel buddy, BB, when we go to Berlin.

3. My very first hostel experience: We've checked into Generator Hostel. This is my first official hostel experience and I'd have to say so far, so good. It looks like a total party place. Noisy dining hall, cheap fried dinner, soda machines, scary showers stalls, lots of half naked straight people walking around--boys AND girls. Everyone seems to be chill and really friendly. You have to pay for everything here--even your towel. Drinks are cheap at the bar considering you're paying in pounds. We're sharing a room with Justin, an Australian backpacker and Japanese software engineer whose name I can neither pronounce nor spell. Both very sweet.

Justin is on his way out tomorrow. While packing, he offered me his spam and bug spray. Aww. The gift of spam. Speaks volumes of this budding love between us. Gave him my number for when he visits NYC. Hope he brings more spam and less deet.



Things are off to a so-so start. I have some form of jet lag, which is weird since I hardly sleep. I'm, however, thankful that it's happening while I'm in London since I'm not compelled to do a lot of sight-seeing here.

Europe, here I come!

Aaaaaand we're ready to roll. I'm writing this entry while on a flight to London.

It's pretty amusing how I've begun to embrace this whole backpacking concept. I mean, I've boarded my flight reeking of pit sweat. I'd spent earlier today running around, cleaning the apartment, buying last-minute supplies for my trip and just sweating in general.

I had this big, retarded smile on my face as I put my cheesy Rick Steve's backpack on the overhead compartment and as I sat down and strapped on my seat belt.

"I used to ALWAYS dress nicely for any flight. Even puddle jumper ones!"

Lame, I know. That's why boarding this flight felt so liberating. I'm dressed like a hippie and I reek and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Tee hee!

Speaking of this flight, can I just say I HEART British Airways? I've picked two movies (getting ready to start the second one in a few) and they still have not stopped giving me booze. And yes, I'm flying economy class.

Would have been a treat to stink up the first class cabin, though. ;-)

Europe, here I come!

Oh, Sheena!

This is a tribute to rotary phones, landlines, long-distance love affairs and anticipated "Dear Johns" and well, curly bangs.

Technology and style may have evolved a lot since then, but gosh darn it, people are so damn predictable!


"Telephone" by Sheena Easton

what I am

"I am what I am
I don't want praise I don't want pity...

...it's my world that I want to have a little pride.
My world--and it's not a place I have to hide in.
Life's not worth a damn until I can say,
'I am what I am!'"

It’s one life, and there’s no return and no deposit.
One life, so it’s time to open up your closet.

ronnie gets frisky

My friend, Ronnie Khalil, is a hoot. Check him and the funniest boys in Florida at www.miamicomics.com.

Recognize the shirt?

end of an era

I want to cry. I want to just lose it and kick and scream.

There's so much frustration, anger, disappointment and feelings of betrayal lingering inside and picking at my brain. I wish I could lock myself up in my room for an entire day and just be numb. Heck, I'll take one minute if I can have some peace of mind.

But I can't. I have a heart to mend. A sick grandmother. A job to keep. I have debts to pay. Money to save. A new home to find and a current one I need to leave behind. A career to find. A mentorship that could mean my future. I have commitments I've already made to friends and family. Promises made to fairweather peers. The remnants of an ego I have left to salvage.

And then there's this reality I refuse to face--we BOTH refuse to face:

It's the end of an era. The worst part is that I have no clue why. I'd apologize but I don't even have the faintest idea what I should be sorry for.

I can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong.

But it's too late anyway. Yet I'm left wondering.

For now, a weary smile is all I have left to offer as I move forward and remember the lesson I was meant to learn this time around: those who really get to know me will grow to hate me.

You aren't the first--you are number three.