Day 2.

Sep. 23rd, 2009 06:03 pm
brinshannara: (Default)
day 01 | a song
day 02 | a picture
day 03 | a book
day 04 | a site
day 05 | a youtube clip
day 06 | a quote
day 07 | whatever tickles your fancy

From Piazza San Marco in Venice, in June of 2006, some random girl with pigeons all around her. (As a note, you are apparently no longer allowed to feed pigeons in the piazza.)

(click for larger version in a new window)

I have another photo of her looking much more freaked out, but I do like how she smiled at me in this one, which is why I selected it for today. :)

Randomly, I hate how "Piazza San Marco" gets translated into "St. Mark's Square". Seriously. It's Venice. It's Italy. It is not so difficult to say the Italian words! "Pee-ATS-ah"... San... Marco. For real.

Anyways, back tomorrow with a book recommendation, apparently. :)


Jun. 11th, 2006 03:51 pm
brinshannara: (Default)
My computer clock still says 3:41pm, but it's 9:41pm here in Milano and it's getting dark.

So... I've arrived safely. Yay. So did my bags. Yay.

Montreal -> Frankfurt = 7h30m of being cramped in economy with my dad while mom took the good business class seat (at our urging). I don't think either Pop or I wanted to be anywhere near Mom after 8+ hours without a cigarette. She's scary when she's nicotine-deprived. Meanwhile my tailbone may never recover from the crampedness.

Frankfurt = 3h stopover. We stopped at a restaurant in the airport and had a good breakfast.

Also Frankfurt airport security = way tighter than Montreal. They searched me but good. Montreal was nice about the computer at least. The Frankfurt guy was like "computer out" and stuff.

The flight from Frankfurt to Milano sucked. Sardines, I tell you, we were sardines! More tailboney badness, being forced in that same position for another hour.

Then... a shuttle bus thing from the airport to a stop NEAR our hotel. My parents woke me out of a dead sleep to get me off the bus with them and then we schlepped for like, 10 blocks because we got lost. With all our bags.

And CONTRARY to what my father said, I do not, in fact, have my own room for this leg of the journey. Apparently he reserved one room for three people but neglected to tell me this when I asked him about separate rooms.

So.... I get to deal with both my parents snoring and my mom's smoking. HooRAY.

But at least I have Internet, right? Hahaha, 27 euro per 24 hour period, session limit of, I kid you not, 40 megabytes.

So I'm online 'till this time tomorrow (or thereabouts) and I'll be online on Wednesday afternoon/evening and then that's it until we get out of Milano.

I'm griping, I know, I know, but I've had like, 3 hours of sleep in the last 30 hours.

That said, dinner was excellent -- Italian pizza puts any other imitations to shame.

No photos yet, but I think mom and I are headed to see The Last Supper tomorrow. (Which probably doesn't permit photographs, but I'll be taking city photos anyways.) Then we have the opera on Tuesday, I think -- seeing The Barber of Seville.

Should be an interesting time, at the very least. Will post again soon. Send me more addresses for postcards, if you want them, please! :)

ETA: Er, it seems that everything cool is closed on Mondays. God only knows why. The Last Supper will have to wait until later in the week.

Also, I reread the entire "The Da Vinci Code" while on various planes and buses and in airports today/yesterday, so I was kind of like "OMG COOL I didn't KNOW The Last Supper is in Milan!!!". For I am a dork.
brinshannara: (Default)
I went to bed relatively early for me last night -- 2:30 or so, and I was curled up in bed, planning on sleeping for about 7 and a half hours.

I dreamt about having the hiccups.

Do you know why I dreamt about having the hiccups?

That's right. While asleep, I had the hiccups and then woke up and went "WTF?!" basically. So at 6am, I trudged to my kitchen, had a spoonful of sugar and a glass of water and trudged back to my bed. It all seems surreal. Had there not been the glass and spoon in the sink today, I would have guessed I'd dreamt it.

Back to bed by 6:05 and then awake at 10, thankfully. I had nightmares for four hours. All heart-stopping, panic-inducing and emotionally brutal, to do with people abandoning me and letting me down and expectations not being lived up to, and it was my family and my dear friends, not strangers.

I suspect this sense of dread and the anxiety that has lingered since I woke up has to do with the fact that my mother is coming over in less than an hour. "To help me pack", apparently. That means, she wants to ensure I bring skirts, dressy shoes and a couple nice shirts to Italy. Like I can't do that on my own at the RIPE OLD AGE OF 29. Thanks, Mom. You make me feel so good about myself.

The coda to that is that she's going to criticize everything about my appearance, the cleanliness of my apartment and is generally going to make me feel absolutely miserable before I spend TWO WEEKS WITH HER. Not to mention six hours on a plane with her when she hasn't had a cigarette since before boarding.

I wish I could brace myself for the oncoming barrage of criticism, but I don't have the strength. I feel worn out and I've had a headache since before I went to bed.

I need a hug, and all the huggable people I care about ARE NOT IN MY CITY AND WHY IS THAT?

I shall now stop ranting and go get a cold cloth to put over my eyes in the hopes that my tylenol kicks in soon.

(PS: I have received precisely two "Yes, I want a postcard" emails. Please send your mail to [nickname [ profile] shiningmoon gave me] [at] gmail [dot] com, with your address, please! Or, if you don't know that nickname of mine, please send it to brinshannara [at] gmail [dot] com.)


Jun. 7th, 2006 01:37 pm
brinshannara: (pronto?)
Italy for two weeks as of this Saturday. A week in Milan, then off to Venice for a couple days. To the beach for a couple more. Off to Florence for a couple more, then back to Milan for the last night before our flight.

With my parents. <insert bright grin here> Assuming my mother and I don't kill each other, it should be quite pleasant.

I bought my travel health insurance yesterday (online = lovely) and when prompted for an emergency contact name and number, I started typing in my dad's name and went "no, wait, he's coming with me... and so's Mom..."

That's right, ladies and gentlemen, my baby brother is my emergency contact. (Okay, he's 24, but still.) This still amuses me, and should anything tragic befall me in Italy, I will still chuckle at the thought that the Blue Cross will be calling my brother to inform him of the situation. No matter how much pain I'm in.

I have a stupid amount of things to do -- gotta go downtown and buy a new pair of jeans, buy a backpack, get all kinds of toiletries for two weeks, do laundry and empty out my fridge so that the things inside it do not form a revolution and attempt to take over the world while I'm away.

And yet, I am slug, hear me... well, whatever noise a slug makes.

In other news, today is the day that [ profile] drsnicket graduates from her residency program! Congratulations! (This, of course, does not mean she is finished working for her residency, I was informed yesterday. But anyways.)

Oh, I nearly forgot, if you want a postcard from somewhere in Italy, let me know -- send me a mail to my primary gmail address (which many of you know is the nickname [ profile] shiningmoon gave me [at] gmail [dot] com) or to brinshannara [at] gmail [dot] com.

A secondary goal of mine while in Italy will be to see if I can get the hockey scores in under 12 hours from when the games were played, unlike last time, two summers ago, when I was conscious for over 8 hours without knowing who had won the Stanley Cup. GRR. Go Edmonton, for what it's worth.


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