July 21- pipe and a crepe?

up at 7:30, spit blood in sink but dont have much time to wonder what that means. adam’s friend on floor freaks me out as i remember parts of the night that had previously escaped me. haven’t changed my underwear in 36 hours. two cups of tea and we get on the train to paris nord at 9:30. ipod+sleep. crying fucking baby. half a pot brownie in my purse which is officially illegal again. clouds hang in the sky over french countryside so low but no sign of rain. french train station swallows adam and ant while we wait and vicky reminds us of same scene monet painting. wait in line for a cab to gobelins. Oops lockout 11-4…it’s 3:30. we go eat crepes on the corner then shower and chill. awesome french dinner with 4 courses [cheese plate heaven] and sexy parisian waiter. all 6 are revitalized and we walk paris, drink 10 euro cocktails and watch locals kiss in public. take a cab home after stumbling to notre dame, which is priceless at night, and seeing performance tradition outside. lay down to sleep with sexy french couples, sparkly drinks, and american boys on my mind.

July 20-i amsterdam

pillow, sheets, and still wake up feeling like a balloon. breakfast sandwich with hot sauce= energy to van gogh’s. side of panic attack with my potato eaters but i still look at every single one. zoom-hotel-zoom-tram-zoom-flying pig. we walk in and “i feel like bob dylan” happens due to best vibe of the trip. 20 chandeliers, hippie pillow nook, disko lights, purple bunk beds. awesome shopping with some boys in my head. postcard after thai food and rest for a while …should i go out? fuck, im in amsterdam. rookies? closed. drunk in hostel, “puff the magic”, MJ brownies, brush up on fake british accents, drinks in jazz club till old creepster freaks out vone. cab ride reminds me of francesco and rome even tho that feels like a year ago and i’m soooo hiiiiigh. hostel drinking till bed. amsterdam kicks my ass again. this time in a good way.

July 19- hotel mercure

drowsy morning where i can’t feel my face and we’re on to the hotel for early check in. white beds and checkered floors [SICK] so we sleep all day. awesome showers with real towels then little buddha cafe where i drink tea instead of smoke weed cuz i feel bronchitis creeping up on me. 8:30 dinner at aussie place after rough decision making where i only finish half my burger. too much walking, weather is cold, stuffy chest and bad mood. go to bulldog in the red light district and meet asian from chicago who lives on an island and works for the french government. prove to him that i get roman numerals [99?]. walk around to take in sights and me and my brother decide we need to pretend this trip never happened when we get home. sex shows all around. we yell at hooker eating a sandwich in her window who laughs at us ["you should be working!"]. walking gets boring and cant figure where to go so i try to go home way early but we eat food at new york pizza instead. i meet some dude who turns out to have a son and need a green card…..we run…find giant chess in rembrantsplien? [nope] girls go home because hotel room is too sexy to not be slept in.  amsterdam: 1, laura: 0.

July 18- strega returns

during food and checkout, night-before detail review uncovers name of my nameless. hearing him called achilles made me a little proud of myself. hoof it to englischer garten and the uc bounces for rest and pizza hut before shopping under the glockenspiel which is still creeping me out from the night before ["so THATS how they keep americans away..."] buy H&M shoes i dont need and grimm brothers strega look-alike doll and head to hostel. awesome game of kings with all 6 serves as a tour review session and we leave for the station. smooth BK lounging and coach 184 [NOT 187]. diana gets cracked in the skull piece, mascot strega hangs from the ladder and ride is spent coughing, tossing and turning. overnight ride to AM-STER-DAM.

July 17- Bitte baby

munich am. starbucks saves us in the station despite an eternity at the hostel lounge before 1pm check-in.  finally sleep and shower and out. augustiner is pure deutsch but my stomach is sick from train station fries. room spinning, determined to get drunk, potato with soar cream and beer pics then we stumble to hofbrauhaus. we meet friendly asians, kid with crazy eyebrows and stumble out faster than we stumbled in. hard rock has american music and we drink vodka cran while trying to figure out whats next…jimmy spits on adam while theyre having a moment. bitter directions debate and im the one thats wrong…soon me and vicky are taking off after some dutchmen and “here comes the sun” cover on the street. guitarist tells us to give him money and run and sweet boy named tice gives me the best three goodnight kisses i’ve ever had. jimmy and adam are soaked from jumping in a fountain and we all walk back to the hostel. meet a boy whose name i don’t understand and hook up in an alley. he asks me to go home with him but his friend is with vicky so we eat pizza instead. he tells me munich doesnt suck but refusal from german club earlier proves otherwise. more kissing in public, then meet irish pearl jam cover band with diana and they feed me some more. room finally open. sleep.

July 16- If God himself..

three hours of sleep isn’t enough, which i learn at 8am when we wake up for the vatican. free breakfast, check out and we subway to termini which sounds easier than it is but houses killer graffiti. station is a mess and we search for next subway after an ordeal at the bag check only to find the line is down…walk to the bus, get on too early, packed as fuck, hot as hell, woman has a panic attack and we’re all forced out at the first stop. eat gelato, walk forever on no sleep and yell at adam for not getting the cab process. FINALLY cab, listen to driver’s inappropriate cell phone conversation [which is in italian which i now understand apparently], lose the boys who think we’re dead. join up, wait on line in the heat and dead popes give me a panic attack the second we finally get in. me and vicky bitch out after the church and miss the sistine chapel but get food, coffee, bus tour and gelato instead of 326 steps of death. mood improved, meet at termini and train to munich. attempt to switch to german mode but can’t shake grazi and scusi because my heart is still in italy’s teeth. no train-cell roommates till unfriendly danish who pretend not to speak english but i understand enough to hear them calling us yanks. vespa t-shirt doesn’t help. european limbo till morning.

July 15- “pulire means?” “…to clean”

sleep in due to incurable hangovers all around. Tylenol cheers and we start the day. jump colosseum line and ditch our tour which sucks, then brother’s debit gets eaten and we curse union center bank. run into union friend [found him] and act out gladiator vs. lion. failed the forum so we bus it to the spanish steps. anticlimactic and dolce and gabbana. sexy businessmen in european suits are on walk to Trevi, map and roman holiday poster in hand and gasp as we turn the corner. wrong choice for dinner, wet assed and undercooked. follow up with mickey-d’s and pay for condiments cuz excess rules. bus ride, vespa t-shirt, and shower before we’re mapping our way to ice bar. parkas and gloves, but no fragola coke since its -5 degrees celsius. drinks change color but the company is from rutgers so we split to meander aimlessly. cab rips us off to compo di fiori but no matter since italian flag shots are 1.50 euro and calabrese boy tells me i have italian eyes. boy with name i learn later and forget immediately tells me he loves me in english despite his lack of an accurate grasp on the language and me jimmy vicky and di leave to follow the pub crawl to an after hours spot and get in free. fragola is 10 euro but i drink it anyway cuz fuck all. crowd is good and spanish jonas brother look-alike argues with a canadian for my attention. i see francesco and ant and my face lights up, but only after my new nameless finds me at the bar. i accuse him of following me and build my italian skills with him al night. he eats my face but it doesnt matter cuz the accent is worth its weight in gold. deefs kisses a sexy spaniard who isn’t bilingual and vicky and francesco reunite. he drives us home and i think im in love. i tickle his ear with a rose from deef’s man and giggle while the rest hold on. bonna notte bella roma.

July 14- “I’ve never gotten one from a girl before..”

friends arrive at 9. first coffee and freshman orientation then i spend the rest of my morning shitting fire before colosseo view from bridge and walk while di and vone nap. strega nonna gives us the corni. find panini stand and take pics to prove joe wrong. walk for food to piazza navona which is romantic and perhaps inspiring. buy 40+ roses at compo di fiori and hand them out ["it's free! seriously!"] to people in the square. italians dont get it but most on-lookers are amused. last rose goes to singer guy in navona after a struggle. pub next with crawlers from intorno il mondo. no boys yet…crawlers peel out, we drink fragola cokes [a drink discovered at space club] and dance. I eye fuck sexy roman but dont make a move while adam talks to an old scottish man who is open to new things and old things. i bust my ass, which changes color later. finally, the boys reach out to a 6 foot italian with his name [francesco] tattooed on his back like a futball jersey ["in case you forget.."] he and gianmarco lead us to anima after hours and we need the language to get in. vip just happens. boys are enchanting, gianmarco kisses like a professional despite all. vicky and francesco, diana and marcello join the fun while ad and james mope and ant is shot down again. italian boys drive us home and my heart stops. smart car spin out, EU techno and roman ruins set for stick shift cat and mouse. lifts me up for kiss goodnight, ciao bella and bed. sigh.

July 13- finding David

up at 7 for the David. pack ant’s shit [who is no where to be found] and check out. breeze through academia galleria and David literally glows before my eyes. no words. i decide america sucks and we ditch tranquilo expressionism for strong coffee and an 8 euro tart. downpour begins, we run, chat wtih fellow NJs while it hails on passing smart cars. rain lasts too long, must run, get SOAKED and lost, wait at hostel on milk carton alves and i miss the part of the conversation where we skip eating to climb firenze everest. gorgeous view but pms bludgeons the moment till im dizzy. shopping on ponte vecchio is amazing and crankiness gives way to tiramisu gelato. get dad a gold san giuseppe pendant and hand-painted salt and pepper shakers. long trip to train, rush adam, get frustrated, missing a ticket to rome but leave anyway. WALK to Grifo despite best efforts by regina’s kids. relieved for rome. I spend the night alone in pjs and wet hair with a tiny soccer-decorated coke can and steaming fettucine alfredo, just how i like it. anxiously awaiting UC’s arrival.

July 12- Leap into the dance of experience

Wake up hungover. panic attack in pizzeria, so dizzy, need sleep, nap with adam, miss the duomo, regret hostel change, longest walk ever. Leap into the dance of experience…out that night, can’t get drunk. meet ant and two chick student friends at an irish pub high on tiramisu and lasagna. go to square, adam plays soccer, drink nastro azzurro, find nutela bucket and go to all ital bar where we dance and seasoned PDA natives give us the eye. meet girl from US who doesnt hate us. split to get home [early to rise..] without ant but must peak Space Club. in without paying “just for five minutes” but scene makes us giddy and we can’t leave. Young florentines scream sex on the dance floor and its all guys on platforms in button downs. the guarracis get a kick out of it and dance the thriller. McDonalds has 10 cent ketchup. we get sized up, eat nuggies, and watch an hour of italian weather channel. rain next day comes as a huge surprise.