September 8, 2007
In Sorrento. Could not find a place in town so I ended up camping. Its not that bad though its actually better than some hostels and definitely better than Hostel Two. I also think I may have unwittingly stumbled upon some major Commie doins.
When I got to the site there was about fifty or so Eastern European types millin about. Most likely finding a good spot to either burn books about freedom or print propaganda. I kept my eye on the bunch until sleep snuck up on me like a cowardly Brit (redundant). I awoke to the sound of silence. Not really that suspicious since it was around 5:30 in the morning. I got up to do some recon when I noticed that the Reds had all vacated. Ever last one of em. This was starting to get eerily reminiscent of Red Dawn. If you don’t get that reference congratulations you’ve just been demoted to a Canadian.
In case you have not seen this classic here is a brief synops: Commies, in an attempt to take over the world, invade a small Colorado mountain town failing to realize that their plan was flawed from the get go my friend cause Swayze goes to high school in that town and neither he, nor his rippling abs, nor his misfit band of renegade friends have any intention of letting a Commie foot touch a grain of American soil without losing it in the process.
Actually the more I think about it the more I realize how fucking sweet a Red Dawn type situation would be. Could you imagine you me and a young Swayze running through the hills shooting commies?
I say we bring back a classic. If there is one point everyone, from all sides of the Cold War can agree on, its that the war was way, way too short. If Rocky can come back after twenty years than why not the Caps vs Commies? I’m gonna get on this right away. I’m heading up to Berlin to see if I cant rabble rouse a few brick layers into getting that wall back up. Until then I will need you guys to send boatloads of lollipops because if Hitler has taught us anything its that if you want to start a movement start with the youth and if my youth has taught me anything its that as a young boy I would throw my dog off a roof if I had the slightest inclination that I would be rewarded with a tasty pop if I did. I will be expecting those pops to be there by the time I am. This is gonna be awesome!
September 5, 2007
In Ischia. It’s an Island off the coast of Naples. It’s like Germany but with more Germans. These people need to grow up and start speaking English. It’s so annoying speaking so slowly and my throat is getting sore from shouting everything I say.
I have heard a disturbing rumor as of late that some American backpackers are traveling as “Canadians”. One Aussie even told me that a couple who were there the night before had claimed to be Canucks until they let it slip the night of their departure. These Benedict Arnold’s should be burned by at the steak (wha what) ?!? To compensate WSM has been referring to my nationality as A Number One. It hasn’t been the best for first impressions especially on my first night when a group from the Hostel went out to dinner and when asked where I was from I loudly proclaimed, “the number one country in the world! ” The best way to do this is to emphasize world while leaning forward and letting just enough of whatever you are eating/drinking come out of your mouth to really get your point across.
Well after five days of beach living and little to no Internet connect I am back in Naples which somehow managed to out shit Milan. Everyone drives the streets like a levee just broke and the locals packs of con men circle the train station picking out the dumb or naive and making their move. Like my man P.T. said, “There is a sucker born every minute” but hate to break it to the con men of the world cause WSM was born in less than a minute.
August 25, 2007
In Rome. Cruising past the Coliseum in my rented 125 cc scooter. Come across a rare patch of smooth pavement. I am the man so I turn it up. There’s a couple on a moped to my left but they clearly see me so there not gonna try to cross. I’m wrong. Now they are in my direct line of fire. Left hand- rear brakes now. Not working impact is still imminent. Right-hand front brakes now-way too hard. Panic is not a logical emotion. Now I am in the air. I have experienced this feeling only once before in my life and those of you who know my personal history know exactly what I am talking about.
The skin peeled away from my body almost as quickly as my atheism and libertarian views on helmet laws did. As I am sliding I manage to look behind me only to find my scooter heading towards me . It knows I am responsible for the damage inflicted upon it and wants revenge. I stuck my feet out and kept the spiteful machine at a manageable distance. That’s not what worries me though. There is something much larger and much more ominous behind this scooter.
Gravity starts to play the role of cupid and my face got friendly with the pavement.If I have learned anything during this incident it is that my chin is extremely allergic to asphalt. The romance was a short and distracted one, at least on my part, as I spent most of it worrying about this looming object in my peripheral. Finally the sliding stopped. Get the FUCK up. No time to check for injuries I needed to get off this path of destruction. Surprisingly, my body obliged and before I knew it I was on a Roman Sidewalk looking back at A Big Fucking tour bus with Big Fucking Windows full of Shocked Fucking Tourists all staring back at me. I almost introduced little Timmy to death far to early. Sorry not today I am alive and all wounds are superficial. I may look like I pinched Chuck Liddell’s wife’s ass but I feel like a Gladiator…even better I feel like Russel Crowe, I might even go throw a phone at someone’s face.
August 24, 2007
On a train to Roma. Spelling Rome with an A at the end is a subtle and perfectly pretentious way of letting people know you have actually been there. An old man just yelled something in WOP at me. He’s just jealous because I have been resting my feet on his wife’s lap for the last half hour. Italians are so passive aggressive. So I says to the guy I says “It’s not sexual your wife happens to have an extremely inviting crotch temperature.” Cultural differences, what are you gonna do.
I just came from Milaun. Spelling Milan with a U in it is a subtle and perfectly perfect way to let people know you are a moron. Milan is like downtown L.A. but with more English speakers. I rented a prostitute there and All I have to show for it are these lousy AIDS! Bada Boom!
Post Script- My other Joke was gonna be I rented a prostitute there and lost my deposit. Bada Boom!
Post Script Script- That joke implies that I killed the toot.
Post Script Post Script- It’s not funny if you have to explain it. Shit.
August 2, 2007
Left Florence today. Now in the coastal city of Ancona. Brent accidently booked us reservations at some small suburb outside of Ancona called Lareto. It’s like the longmont of Italy and it took us until we started passing Ikea’s on the highway before we realized we were in suburban hell. Three hours later, 70 euros down we are back in Ancona at a net cafe with no place to sleep. ‘No Available Reservations’ keeps popping up on my screen and right now I actually wish I was in Longmont. I don’t even feel like leaving a clever sign off but promises are promises. See you later alinater.. that works.