The Mission

Since being in Italy and getting [back] in touch with my somewhat creative side (it’s good to know that it hasn’t fully gone out the window since abandoning journalism and joining the yachting industry) I have decided I need to decorate my room. Not necessarily the world’s biggest masterpiece in the making, but it’s my new home. And if I plan to live in a small space for an extended amount of time, something other then wood paneling needs to occupy the walls. But what? Pictures of my friends and family that I travel with are always a given, but unless I carried 10lbs worth of 4x6's, it wouldn’t even make a border half way around one of the mirrors in my room! I have always loved posters and they cover a decent amount of space, but I don’t really feel like walking into a music store and buying a poster of a shirtless vampire. Before you get too defensive, I did consider it, and even tilted my head to the side in a) Awe and b) appreciation for his tanned 6-pack, but a split second later, flipped the frame to the next poster, just like the rest. Boring, and not to mention, how uncultured. Then, on a walk through the city contemplating the words “what’s a girl to do,” it hit me. I saw a wall of posters plastered on the side of a building. But not just any poster, they were old style movie/theatre posters. In Italian. And full of colour. Jackpot! The only problem is, I swear the inventor of super glue himself put those babies up there, and getting one down won’t be for the light-hearted. Which brings me to my mission: stealing one to hang in my room… it will have to be dark out when it happens, because I don’t know if the Italians think that stealing them is more of a crime then posting them, so it should be fun. Wish me luck and I’ll keep you posted. [haha no pun intended] xoxo

Oh, the English.

I'm happy to say that once again I am on the road [again!] - minus the 'road-bit' and sub-in 'on the seas', however you wish to say it, its exciting. Leaving home after a 3month visit was sad but needed. Not to mention, what better place to run off to then Italy? Livorno, Italy to be exact.
After landing a job on classic-motor-yacht, Nero I have packed up my belongings - which, have rapidly expanded over the past year - and boarded a plane. Only a mere 12hrs of traveling stood between me and my new Italian lovers. My layover? None other then the United Kingdom! Where to start really,... I have always wanted to go, absolutely fall head over heels for an English accent and i'm pale as the snow from the country I come from. This is my kinda place!... Okay, Now, I have been to a number of airports, but nothing like this. At 6a.m. UK time - [1 a.m. back home] they rushed us off the plane, across the tarmac and into one bus, one bus. I'm no mathematician, but I think a plane holds more people then one bus! That's not even including the amount of shit people pass as "carry on luggage" these days. I swear it's become a game to travelers, one I guiltily take part in. Over-sized purses, computer bags, small suitcases, baby carriers, wheelchairs, you name it and it was being squeezed on that bus with us. The only thing missing was a keg of Guiness that I'd hoped to be greeted with at the entrance of the airport. Instead of a tasty beverage however, it was more like a marathon. Up the stairs, down the corridor, around the bend, through the smallest doorway ever created, while the same people that just invaded your personal space on the bus ride, are in the same race as you. The list goes on. By the time I made my way to the actual departure platform, I was dehydrated. Which brings me to the pictures and a funny story. I go to the only half decent place to grab a muffin and a drink so I can enjoy my three hour wait in peace..when I am stumped with a decision of which drink to buy. Mango, when in doubt I chose mango. Rushed through the line, had a slight glaze of confusion on my face when he said, "That'll be 7 pounds, love!" SEVEN POUNDS? boooy are you ever lucky I suck at numbers and you called me love, or else I would have come to my senses and realized that i was paying a lot more then I would have at any Tim Horton's with that given exchange rate. Now that I am thinking about it, I suppose this story really isn't too funny to the average person. But, if you were me, traveling by yourself for the past however many hours, and the only words you heard being spoken to you were "What can I get you to drink." And your only two spoken words of the entire time were, "Water" and "Excuse me," as you sneakily try to not to end up in the 40-year-olds lap beside you on your way to the washroom, then you would have found the writings on this bottle funny too. So sleepily-funny in fact, that you ended up laughing out loud at a crowded airport, and so interesting you almost didn't notice the people staring at you strangely from the awkward laugh you just had by your lonesome. almost.
My favourite part on the whole bottle : 'sounds ghastly, but this is simply vitamin C' 
Yup, U.K.! ....you totally lived up to my standards. 
xoxo