VACATION o' GLORIOUS VACATION!!!!

Okay - I admit it...one of the GREATEST parts about being a teacher is the guarenteed vacation-time. Hell, who am I kidding? One of the most wonderful things about FRANCE in general is its guarenteed vacation time! :-)

1) From the end of October in through mid-November we have 2 weeks vacation (for "All Saint's Day" and Halloween)
2) From mid-December to mid-January, we have another 2 1/2 weeks...(for Christmas)
3) From early February to the end of February, YET another 2 weeks...(Winter-break)
4) From early April to the end of April...ANOTHER 2 weeks ("spring" or Easter break)

Though I do not consider myself lazy whatsoever (I'm a very determined, hard-working character, if I may say so myself...ahem...) I do LOVEEEEEEEE my vacation-time! After all, vacation is a time to explore - to discover outside of the norm - to have ADVENTURES abroad...to PICK UP AND GO!

Every day, we (or at least I) spend planning, worrying, thinking through daily-details and efficient strategies; vacation, on the other hand is a time to VACATE your life of those things...just to get away from it all in order to experience something completely NEW.

AND greatest thanks to my working situation and finances in Strasbourg, I was able to do just that - every oportunity I had...

1) In October, I couldn't go home as I hoped I would be able to. Although it literally broke my heart to leave my dog back at home I neither had the money, nor the living situation (back in Rue de Bitche days) to allow me to bring her back to France...so, I chose a simple vacation: a weekend in Paris followed by another 10 days in Normandie...

Paris was extraordinary, although, I certainly had my moments of feelings down and out. For starters, my first visit after leaving the hostel, where I had checked in my luggage for the weekend (that is, at "The Vintage Hostel" at 73 rue de Dunkerque near la Gare du Nord) was Mont Martre - just a walk away. I was psyched to visit the Sacre Coeur, but was DEVASTED when I got bombarded with tourist traps and pushy salesmen and crazy artists.

I almost started crying at one point, when an old male artist harassed me in the street, saying that I had one of the most beautiful, but saddest faces he's ever seen in his life. He followed me for some ways (through one of the busiest sections of Paris) with his easel, imploring that I OUGHT to be drawn. I KNEW he was saying all of this just to reel me in (Parisian artist manipulation!) but the fact of the matter was that I HAD BEEN feeling down and out, and super-manipulated...I hardly knew what to do. Just moments before, a Jamaican man grabbed my wrist and knotted (speed of lightening-fast) some kind of Jamaican "friendship bracelet," to my wrist only to demand fair compensation...(for which I had no choice but to hand over a couple of euros.)

Wondering if I had "WORLD'S BIGGEST SUCKER!" on my forehead, I hardly wanted to continue moving forward...tears were filling up in my eyes, as I literally FORCED my way through the crowds of PUSHY Parisians.

The day only got better and better, though after walking from 9am in the morning until to 11pm at night, I thought my feet were going to fall off!!!!! I made my way from the Sacre Coeur all the way down to Musee D'Orsay (which was an AWESOMEEEEEEEEEEEEEE museum of impressionist art btw), then walked along the Seine River to the Notre Dame Cathedral (which - for my 3rd time in Paris - had blocked a entrance due to a strike!) and moseyed over to the University/Luxumbourg park (which unfortunately had JUST closed upon arriving at dusk). From there, I walked to the Eiffel Tower, and down Champs Elysee. After walking without stop, my stomach was growling super-loud, yet having found only the most expensive restaurants down Champs Elysee, I chose to go to the Red Light District for laughs and cheap treats (really - JUST FOOD! haha) considering how close my hostel was to that area...funny.

The next morning, I woke up bright-eyed and bushy tailed for a free continental breakfast at the hostel's expense, where I met a really friendly American girl who had been living in London, and was also travelling Paris, solo. But since she wanted to go clothes/shoe shopping at the Lafayette Galaries, I wished her good luck, and parted ways (no way in hell would you ever catch me "shopping in Paris!") Instead, I ended up walked around the city a bit more - hitting up the parks and quais. Sick of walking, I resigned myself to a cafe near the train station where I was to make my way to Normandie; sitting with a stack of papers to correct and a bottle of red wine to drink, in the very least, I'd enjoy people-watching in Paris!

Yet, before too long a (stereotypical) French woman ended up sitting next to me, chain-smoking her cigarettes, STARING at me without any shame. She finally asked me what I was working on, and after telling her about my job, we continued to speak for 2 hours or so. Ironically enough, she was a French high school teacher, and got a kick out of exchanging stories about cultural and educational differences. What a funny coincidence, I thought. Unfortunately...I got so "focused" and interested in the conversation (and probably a bit tipsy at that) I ended up missing my train by 1 minute!!!!!!!!!! ARGH!

Luckily, I was able to catch the next train...but in waiting for an hour's time, I forced myself to sit and wait on the train station's dirty floor like a bum - with an ipod and art-postcards from the museum, scribbling a little poem about WAITING...(ahh...waiting...one of my most practiced yet least favorite activities...I never cease to forget Dr. Seuss's "The Waiting Room" whenever I am in limbo/in waiting like that.)

On the train to Cherbourg, Normandie (where I was to meet up with my cousin and his wife) I sat next to yet ANOTHER TEACHER, who commented on the massive STACK of papers I had been working on. (556 students means 556 papers and quizzes to correct, after all.) Between joking around, speaking seriously about teaching, and nodding off, we made our way out of Paris, and into Normandie...yet, when she got off the train a couple stations before me, I was left sitting across the way from some guy who was jerking himself off. NO LIE; right in front of me, hand inside his pants, tugging away, smacking his lips together and groaning at the same time...I couldn't even move I was so disgusted! SICK FRENCHMEN!!!

In Normandie, I profited my vacation days in Swiss-Normandy, Cherbourg and Caen, hiking, canoeing/kayaking, running, beach-walking, and visiting family...a really lovely vacation with lots of food and laughter - despite the fact that my 2 cousins and uncle came down with the "pig flu" (or some animal's name describing that season's "risky flu"...what the hell was it called?)

Subsequently, I came back to Strasbourg with the same sickness, and took 1 day off from work to recover...it wasn't so bad, although in Strasbourg, the air-quality and temperatures aren't ideal for colds and flues...yuck.

2) In December, despite the lovely Christmas markets in Strasbourg (I'll get to those details later) and despite my shakey finances, I chose to spend 2 weeks in the States in order to celebrate the holidays with family (family matters to me! ::smiles::) And though I was embarrassed to have so few gifts for everyone (not to mention that 2 bottles of wine broke in my suitcase!) I had JUST enough money saved to squeeze in a 2-way ticket...from Paris to Montreal (in connection) to Boston...

Yet the flight was a *ucking DISASTER from Paris, since France had experience its very FIRST day of snow for the winter season that morning, just before I was supposed to leave...

Initially, my flight was merely delayed. 1 hour...then 2 hours. Once the 2 hours passed, everyone boarded the plane, thinking things were finally in order. HA! Too bad we waited on the plane 5 1/2 hours before taking off! DE-ICING and waiting for clearance took longer than the flight-crew had planned, apparently! I wasn't so much bothered by the wait, as I was concerned for the babies crying and old people waiting for their medication...I watched some movies, corrected as many papers I had on hand, and talked to the people around me: what can ya' do but WAIT sometimes?

The flight lasted another 7 1/2 hours (and this was all after the train ride I had taken from Strasbourg) putting me in Montreal 30mins before the last connection to Boston for the night (having already missed my connection!) Somehow, the terminal workers got CONFUSED about the gate-closing times, in telling us that we could still catch the last flight out of Montreal; A WHOLE crowd of passengers RAN to the gates to catch the plane (I was in the lead...the blind leading the blind...) only to find, all at once, that the plane was set to take off without us: gates closed!

Consequently, my luggage was allegedly "lost" according to the airport terminal services (they thought it had been sent on the airplane anyways) and therefore I had NO CELLPHONE to call my sister (who was already waiting to pick me up at the Boston airport) in order to let her know I was STUCK in Montreal without my luggage...

Thanks to a really nice guy from Northampton (just a town away from my hometown, who, ironically had been sitting next to me on the airplane all the way from Paris) I was able to make an international phone call from his cell. (Too bad my sister's cell phone had DIED that evening! I managed to leave a message in the least...)

After a lot of running around, and HOURS of investigation on my part, it turned out that my luggage WAS at the airport after all...but unfortunately in the process of investigating, I was too "inspected" and questioned, for having transported 6 bottles of wine in my suit-case...(2 which had already BROKEN). Yet since the airport was such a mess, with so many angry passengers, they let me wheel off my luggage without claiming it, or charging me fines. (Luck had it that my clothes were sealed, into which I could change, in my cozy hotel room at the Marriot - for which my flight was willing to pay...along with my dinner.)

I bumped into the girl I had been sitting next to on the airplane-ride that night at the hotel bar, and we ended up eating dinner together and sharing some wine, talking about our lives. She was an aspiring movie-director & script-writer living in Paris...a really interesting American girl to say in the least. (Too bad I forgot her name?) In any case, it was exciting, despite all the stress...I was on VACATION!

I got up super-early the next morning to switch my flight to Hartford as opposed to Boston, since it'd speed up my time getting home...at which point I bumped into the Northampton kid again, waiting in line for customs clearance. I bought him a big frappaccino to thank him for letting me make an international call on his cell, and ended up sitting next to each other (again) for the whole plane ride leaving back home. This kid too, was SUPER-interesting, as he had just finished 3 months in Paris studying sociobiology and neuroethics (which, perchance, had been right up my alley...)

Yet, on this (teeny tiny) air plane-ride, I got sick all of a sudden, realizing just before landing that I had gotten my period (sorry for the extra gory details!) But, in a messy rush, I had been trying to clean up just as the tiny plane was trying to make its landing....ugh...a disaster.

As a result of being so flustered, I ran off the airplane missing my wallet, which had fallen out beneath my seat in the midst of my searching for tampons...which I realized 30 mins into the car-ride back home with my Dad. Needless to say - he was pretty pissed, and I was...well, a mess. BUT...I was home :-) And the best part was that my dog, Byndee was there to give me her sweet licky kisses!!! AWWW!!!!!!!

The vacation time spent at home was rejuvinating and really...really good; I came back to Strasbourg a different woman, really. Happy Holidays.

3) For February break, I worked 1 week babysitting (making extra cash) and another week travelling the South of France and Spain via train. (Although I desperately wanted to make my way down to Sevilla and Malaga, I had only 1 week's time to get my ass all over the place...so I planned instead to stick around Barcelona for 4 days). Before reaching Barcelona, I had a beautiful day and a half in Montpellier, followed by a couple visits with family members in Nimes. THEN, due to coming down with some disgusting kind of sickness (the most RIDICULOUS cold I've EVER had in my life) I ended up leaving Barcelona a day early & surprise-visited my Godmother, a little south Montpellier on my way back.

Montpellier, to begin with - was an amazing city. If I could have done things differently, I would have spent my year (which was initially meant to be 2 or 3 years) in Montpellier as opposed to Strasbourg...but...oh well...that's not the way things happened for obvious reasons. I walked around the city, snapping pictures, and breathing in the southern air...enjoying the sunshine. The beach was a sight to see at sunrise...

From Montpellier, I trained-it up, to Avignon - and visited some Bourdons! It was SO cool to meet family I had never met before...drinking, eating, and joking together was a real blast...even if you don't grow up together, there's a strong bond in blood-connections, I suppose.

And yet before too long, I said Adieu, and continued back SOUTH again, to Barcelona...where it was rainy and cold. BRRRR...REALLY cold. Getting off the train, I bundled up and resorted to walking-around to warm myself up. After all, I hadn't yet booked a hostel, and I'd have to find something interesting and reasonable so that I wouldn't have to wheel my luggage around too long.

But I should mention that I got lost...well, almost a million times without an umbrella :-) The first night there, I purposefully got myself lost however: thinking I'd navigate my way back to my selected hostel pretty easily (I get a thrill out of orientation and navigational challenges!) but came to learn how difficult it was to find my way around with a (rain) destroyed map...!

That same night, in between getting lost and finding interesting things to see, I ate Tapas, enjoyed a couple glasses of red wine and Sangria, and decided to search out some live music and dancing. (Luck had it that I made my way to the hostel just before 11:30, where a group of youngsters directed me to a jazz club.)

The jazz club was pretty sweet, but the club was even sweeter, despite the 10euro-beers and 13euro-priced coctails! The cave-like atmosphere was really unique, the lighting was dim and chill, but the room itself was filled to the brim with outspoken Spaniards...laughing and sharing good times.

When the show ended around 2:00, I wasn't finished with my evening...I wasn't satisfied...So, overhearing some music thumping a ways away, I crept up some steps into a connecting-club to find a dance party that was well under way...

Michael Jackson was playing...really loud, so I decided I'd just have to "represent!!" (he had passed away only a couple months prior, while I was in Europe). I danced and danced and danced, which was exactly what I was looking for. Cathartic dancing!!! "Dancing the Dionysian..."

Finally, some young Italian-stallion guy asked me to dance with him, and I was happy to take his hand. We danced until 4am or so...trying to communicate messages without either of us speaking or understanding the other person's native tongue. One of his friends came to rescue the night, however, when he translated an invite, asking me if I'd like to join them in an afterparty.

I had nothing to lose but time at this point (i.e., I had nothing to be "stolen") so from 4-6:30am or so, we chilled at some private club, drinking a couple more drinks, and dancing a couple more dances. People were obviously getting pretty pooped though. Walking out altogether, we whistled the Pink Panther theme song, laughing about our night spent in Barcelona. What a weird night in the end...getting lost...getting found...we parted ways and wished each other a good stay.

The next couple of days in Barcelona were pretty amazing, though I was starting to feel pretty SICK, coughing and sneezing everywhere. I visited Gaudi-everything, and LOVED it...way more than I ever thought I could or would enjoy looking at architecture. Indeed, I took on a whole new sense for and appreciation of architecture as the "highest form" of visual art...(although I may change my mind on that interpretation...)

I walked around the city - each part - looking for something interesting...the cathedrales...the parks...some museums(the Picasso museum was a disappointment however!) and before too long I realized the city was JUST TOO LARGE to get through by foot...

I paid 32 euros for a day's bus-tour...tourist-style...open-roof, and in the rain. That probably didn't help my health at that point.

It also didn't help that I shared my hostel room with 11 other single- travellers...in a musty, crammed hostel room. My last night there, I hardly even felt like leaving my room, despite its very conditions, for I was NOT feeling up to par...but I still forced myself out the door in order to catch 1 last live-blues performance at a small club that I had researched the night before.

The damn club wasn't to be found though, and NO ONE on the streets knew what club I was infering into! Too bad my poor attempts at speaking Spanish made things worse...!!!! (So as much as I HATE<-------to say it....speaking English is the way to go in a foreign city if you can't speak the native tongue well...)

After a million attempts down side streets, I finally stumbled upon my desired destination, and was REALLY glad that I did put in the efforts; the music, the atmosphere...the club itself was AMAZING! I had a surreal night, swinging my legs from an upper-balcony seat, listening to Nina Simone and Ella Fitzgerald tunes...drinking Spanish beer (just 1 though...after all...I was sick.)

The next day, I was to make my way north to Montpellier...for a 2nd time...but this time I was there to connect with my Godmother. She hosted me for the night, despite my disgusting state of health, which ended up being a really nice visit. Seeing family has been a real highlight of all my trips...!

4) For April vacation, I spent 2 days in Venice and 3 days in Lyon, France -which, despite its brevity, turned out to be the most exciting vacation I had yet experienced in Europe! It's a good thing I saved 1 week to recover before returning to work...both financially (since I was able to make a bit of extra cash thanks to babysitting) as well as emotionally...

I left Wednesday morning from Strasbourg in order to arrive in Venice in time to walk around a bit. The train ride tookabout 9 hours (having stopped in Basel, Milano, Torino and finally in Venice.) Despite the duration, it was a really enjoyable train ride, since was able to enjoy yet another view of the Swiss Alps, as well as the northern Italian landscapes under the sunshine...just gorgeous!

In addition, I was able to start reading a new book on Lonergan's Value Ethics, having recently finished reading "Lila" by Robert Pirsig (my favorite author) which had gotten me thinking about the possibility of a "Dynamic Metaphysics of Morals" based upon "quality..."

When I finally arrived in Venice, I wanted to drop my things off at the hotel (which was not in Venice, but in Mestre) so I had to track down the right bus to access the hotel.

The bus ride was a little complicated because the bus stops were unmarked, but thanks to the instructions on the hotel website, I knew well enough that the hotel was somewhere near the last bus-stop...

BUT night fell quickly, and found myself to be 1 of three remaining persons on the bus when it stopped in the middle of nowhere - the real countryside of Mestre.

The driver stopped the bus, but instructed me in Italiano-Fr-anglish that the hotel was around the corner...I hardly could believe it...."a hotel out here!?" I thought...REALLY!?!?!?! Wheeling my luggage down the dark residential neighborhood, I was feeling a bit silly...

But low and behold, the bus driver was right: Hotel Villa Dori was safely situated between some houses, hiding behind some trees around the corner. I walked in, hungry and ready to unload my baggage...but as soon as I walked in, something immediately struck my eye.....it was really one of the strangest things...

The hotel desk receptionist looked up at me as I walked in, and his eyes were glaring bright...like a beautiful, wild wolf. He was dealing with 2 Americans and automatically began speaking to me in English; he looked REALLY annoyed. I made a snide remark about his ASSUMING that I too was American, his having addressed me in English, but after a faint (fake) giggle he continued to give his little speil about the hotel, and Venice (a prerehearsed and extensive explanation of what to see, what to do/what not to see and do) for all "us Americans."

There was something about him that REALLY drew me in. I was so taken by him - his fiestiness, no-bullshit directive (and seemingly-annoyed attitude) juxtaposed with generosity, goodness...and passion in his eyes.

That night, I decided to get food right next door and hit the hay early, around 11 rather than risking the bus-situation again...and in falling asleep almost immediately, I began dreaming of the desk receptionist

I could only laugh a little bit (remembering my dream) when I saw that he was STILL there the very next morning - to work the morning shift. I made a comment about his scheduling, (having been surprised to find someone working the late night shift as well as the early morning shift, back to back.) And he seemed to appreciate my taking notice of his hard work, and realizing this, I felt comfortable enough to thank him for his suggestions and generosity.

I actually felt sorry for him, being stuck there...but not badly enough to keep me from taking off to Venice as early as possible :-)

And O BOY! VENICE was INCREDIBLE...in fact, I can't think of 1 bad thing to say about it. Gorgeous weather, gorgeous views, amazing food, amazing people.

Although I fucked up on taxi-boat numbers, getting my island-visits all fouled up (despite the very good instructions I had received from the receptionist) I got around, island-hopping just fine in the end - from Venice to Murano to Lido and back to San Marco square. I was able to see A LOT by foot. At the Murano glass factory, an Italian guy was REALLY pushy and extra-friendly with me, trying to make the moves. As I tucked my way out of the museum, a collegue of his came to find me, insisting that I go to dinner with them both. I kindly refused and walked out, a bit flushed from embarassment (that is...AFTER seeing how glass-blowing is done...a pretty cool exhibit all in all...!)

I purposefully allowed myself to get lost (yes...again) in San Marco/San Polo areas, since it was so gorgeous outside. Since I refused to use the map for a good 2 hours, and I later had to find WHERE I ended up in relation to the restaurant at which I was hoping to dine. In the end, I lucked out, having noticed the gelateria that the receptionist had suggested to me, which provided insight into my coordinates...

The restaurant I had been searching out was BOOKED for the night, and so I was forced to go elsewhere. Nevertheless, I found a great place near Chiesa di San Giacomo Dell'Orio to have some pizza. Over pizza, red wine and bread rolls, I enjoyed the sun setting by the quai, as well as a REALLY good conversation with a young couple from MULHOUSE (which is just 20 mins from Strasbourg!) When you're travelling solo, you're almost 100% sure to come across new people and good conversation. I LOVE IT!

Once it was dark out, I drifted over to a live guitar-session in a cute little piazza. A variety of classic rock tunes (Stevie Ray Vaugn and CCR and Dylan) had been echoing off the waters, and I was simply drawn IN to go listen.

While I was listening to the live music playing, there was a little dog running around playing tricks, making quite the attraction for everyone listening. I smiled, thinking of my baby-girl (my DOG, that is) and felt nice and cozy...

I had a couple glasses of wine, and listened to their variety of American tunes before deciding to make my way back to the hotel...(10am to 10:30 pm in Venice is quite the day of sun and walking...!)

BUT since it was late, I would have to take a late bus heading back inland, which took a different route to the hotel than the route I had taken previously. As a result, I missed my stop. I had calculated the ride to be 30 mins, and decided to get off, at which point it was already "too late." So, I'd have to wait for a return bus, out in the middle of nowhere, in order to retrace my steps. (That is, thanks to the help of yet another hotel receptionist, I was able to estimate how far I was off from my desired destination...) But funny enough: this hotel desk receptionist knew the desk-guy at MY hotel. When I had told her where I was trying to go, she insisted she call him to see if he could send a driver to come and get me, and I adamently refused, fearing the hotel receptionist would think me to be a REAL "American" idiot. (In the end, though, she DID call him, and it so turned out that the driver for the hotel was in Venice and was therefore unable to get to me) so I made my way back through public transportation after hoofing it a ways.

Finally getting back to the hotel around 11:30, I asked the guy at the front desk (who had STILL been working) if he thought I'd be able to exchange my 7am train ticket for a later train. After hashing some ideas about what to do, I decided I'd risk being charged for missing the early train in order to sleep in past 5:30am...(since my train leaving Venice was at 7am!) We made a little bit of small talk (he asked if I was the "lost girl" that had made the phone call...) and feeling bad to have already put him through so many frustrations (actually, to feel LESS like a jerk) I offered him a cookie I had bought from a bakery in downtown Venice. After all, I figured he could use a little cheer up after his LONG triple-work-shift. He was seemingly delighted, and bidding farewell, I went to bed.

"Knock knock" on my door echoed for real, around midnight - except this time, it wasn't a dream: it was REALLY the hotel receptionist! He was all apologetic for risking having woken me up, (although I was watching CNN in bed, PJ's and all).

Smiling the cutest of smiles, he offered me 2 clementines which he said was all he had to exchange for my warmth and kindness earlier. And sort of awkwardly, (I suppose because I only opened the door enough to avoid exposing my bra-less state of affairs under my PJS) he went on to ask me if I'd like to join him for a drink..."if it wasn't already too late." (He knew I had been planning on catching the train, since I had asked him for his input already...)

I was pysched, but since I was already in PJ's, and since the bar next door had already closed down, he ran over and got beers to bring back to the hotel, claiming he wouldn't "bother me."

In any case, something about him enabled me to feel immediately comfortable with the situation...or, should I say...accepting of the situation (after all, I was NOT comfotable, due to an ENORMOUS WAVE OF EXCITEMENT, CHILLS and SHAKES RUNNING DOWN MY SPINE, and through my LEGS!)

We talked and talked and talked and talked until about 3:45 in the morning, at which point he said he had to go. I was having such a great time talking with him and getting to know his mysterious personnage (representing already some kind a fictional character of my imagination), that I didn't WANT him to go!

It had turned out that he was Croation and had grown up in Venice, and was working at the hotel to help finance his artistic career writing and directing short "films-noirs." He had so much to say about Nietzsche, the Doors and value-theory - it seemed almost TOO IRONIC considering what I had been reading and thinking about on my way into Venice. His English, and his way of communicating (great eye-contact) was outstanding...HE was impressive in general (and this is coming from a girl who is NOT easily IMPRESSED by men!)

Perhaps out of shock (and by his charm) I didn't want to come off as a complete idiot. For all he knew, I was some floosy, superficial, lying nobody, who kept getting lost...and I started worrying that he saw me in this light: as some kind of fictional character for one of his depressing short films: the lonely American girl, "lost" in Venice...

Somewhere in the midst of my worrying about this, I spat out the most foolish of lies, telling him my birthday was on January 21st. WHY I lied about my birthday is beyond me; but at the moment, my mind had drifted off/wandered into worry-land, and when asked a DIRECT question: "How old are you?" I found myself "caught" giving a robotic-like response, half-listening, (which I often do when my mind is elsewhere) telling him: "I'm 25 but almost 26..." (thinking nothing much of it, I didn't think through the math...indeed, I wasn't thinking of anything other than what I was already focused on...)

But when he said, "OH REALLY? WHEN EXACTLY IS YOUR BDAY? 1984?" I realized what I had done; my answer "almost 26" wasn't just right! "DAMNIT," I thought: why did I say that? NOW I couldn't go and to contradict myself, nor couuld I HIDE my age, nor did I want to lie about the year in which I was born, nor about my astrological sign (just in case he knew anything about that stuff)...so...I quickly responded, so as not to STALL/be weird...and Jan. 21st was the first thing that came out of my mouth, for I knew it was still in the sign of the Aquarius, and...it was SOMEWHAT closer to being "almost 26" than was February 2nd.

Okay - NO LOGIC there...I know...and I paid the consequences for the lie, having felt SO foolish afterwards.

But, as he left, approaching the door, I was REALLY surprised when he pulled my shoulder in towards him, caressing my hair. When he went in to kiss me, I could harldy believe it. Not only was I really excited (and shocked that he'd fall for such a fool) but he had been talking for so long about his passion for HIS life, and HIS dreams, and his disinterest in romance...

Our kissing led to REALLY passionate kissing, which led to really passionate caressing among other things. In short: It was just INCREDIBLE...a great romance in Italy!

Around 5:30am, we were trying to decide what to do next, since he could get in trouble if he was seen running back to the reception hall...but he decided to go, after which I decided to do the same. I showered up, packed, (and without having received a blink of sleep) ran over to the bus stop for 6:25am.

I made my train on time (thank goodness!) and slept for about an hour in transit, arriving in Turino at 11am. Unfortunately, and fortunately all the while, I had an 8hour lay-over in Turino, which ended up being (to my surprise) a GORGEOUS city.

Nevertheless, I simply coulnd't walkkkk much longer:::

I had rolled my luggage for miles and miles across the city already, trying to waste time, when finally, at some point in the afternoon, I decided to splurge some euros on a yummy lunch, on a terrace overlooking the river, after which I tried to take a little nap in a park nearbye (but I kept getting hit by little kids playing soccer and frizbee, lol...so I walked around and took in the sights a bit more...)

My head was in the clouds, thinking about my special night with "N," and I couldn't do much more than just WAIT. (again...waiting...for my train.)

Funny enough though....I almost missed my train ride even though I arrived at the train station 40 mins early! After all, the "info desk" told me that my train wasn't listed because the train got changed to a BUS...(a STRIKE was going on in France) but they COULDN'T tell me (because they didn't know) WHERE THE BUS WAS LEAVING FROM...

(I ran around the train station like a madwoman asking all sorts of people, even the police officers...and no one knew.) Having already been 5 minutes past the time for departure, at the point of crying (not only out of exasperation, but out of PAIN - my feet were bleeding!) some bum pointed at some bus, off in the distance, saying it was going to Lyon. I RANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN through the traffic, with my luggage, and HOPPED on the bus ,exactly 7 mins late. I was SO RELIEVED!!!!

On the way to Lyon, I half-slept, although the seats were NOT meant for sleeping...and I arrived in France at 11:40pm, where my cousin had arranged to meet me.

We spoke (having met for the first time) until about 1:30, and made a couple of rough plans for the following day. In the morning, on Saturday, we slept till 9, and went grocery shopping for sandwich-material and dinner/dessert ingrediants. We packed up sandwiches, and went over to a beautiful park to picnic, after which we rented bikes to visit Lyon, on the way to the downtown-area, where we ended up walking around. As sun was setting, we caught some drinks at an outdoor cafe, and decided on a dinner-destination (sushi) to which I treated her, along with huge sundaes for dessert.

The next day (Sunday) we slept till 9:30 and made a big lunch (an Italian pasta dish) along with dessert (chocholate cake!) and spent the afternoon in the Gallo-Roman museum (AWESOME!!!) and the "old city" region of Lyon, where there were live musicians playing in tucked-away/hidden squares. We again caught some hot chocolates (this day was cooler than the days prior) and made plans to meet up with her boyfriend to see a movie. We watched Alice in Wonderland, with which we were all disappointed. From there, we went back to her place, and talked until about 2:30.

Waking around 10am on Monday, we spent some time futzing around, packing up, and headed over to the free zoo to visit the animals, and to walk around the city a bit more. Catching very cold, I insisted we get lunch somewhere warm, after which we made our way to the train station.

My train was delayed, but only by 45 mins...and I made my long ride home. My name was announced to go see the controller at one point, since apparently, someone had taken off with my luggage (back in time, some hour before then) and had already RETURNED IT, unbeknownst to me!....I was lucky this time!!! :-)

Coming back home, I read through some emails, and thought about romance all the more (thinking how we always desire what cannot be had) hence my "need" for emotional recovery before returning to work...