Friday April 6, 2012: Montenegro, Portugal
God I hate roosters. Every morning they start squawking by sunrise and wake me up. It seems we are on very different sleep schedules. I spent most of this morning listening to them, thinking they should be eaten.
Wednesday April 4, 2012: Sagres, Portugal
We made it to Sagres, the western-most point in Europe — or so Annie tells me.
We’re sipping Americanos at a little beach-side cafe, braving the wind and rain. There’s internet access, so I’ve got Annie on the iPad researching treatments for bald-spots: last night, thumbing through her Spain photos, I couldn’t help but notice several shots of me that feature a rather prominent bald-spot on the crown of my skull. If it weren’t for her manic photo-snapping, I may have never seen this new flaw. I also look really fat in her photos because I’m wearing that ridiculous passport pouch, stuffed beneath my shirt and positioned right over my belly. These will be some trip photos to really cherish.
Monday April 2, 2012: Faro, Portugal
I’m writing in the back corner of a cute little cafe somewhere in the gut of sleepy little Faro, Portugal. I’m on a sugar high, having just eaten my second Pastel de Nata of the day. My friend Fidel recommended them to me, and they are freaking delicious!!!
I’m also sipping on my second Americano, waiting for a liter of Sangria we ordered a few minutes ago.
Annie is looking around the room longingly, probably thinking about some cute shoes she encountered in our day of wandering.
Saturday March 31, 11am: Barcelona
We’re sitting in the sun at a table in Placa Reial, a busy plaza in the heart of Barcelona’s La Rambla district. It seems to be the place where tourists, local partiers, and the homeless all mingle.
We’ve just finished eating some omellete tapas and a couple Americano’s — my first coffee in close to a year. When in Rome, right?
I’m sitting in our room at the Hotel Atlantic in Hamburg. It’s a ridiculously fancy (and expensive) hotel, the kind of place Annie and I both feel uncomfortable and undeserving of… but the breakfast, included in the price, might be the best spread of food I’ve ever encountered, so I love the place.
We’ve been outside in the sun on a warm spring day, wandering the city, for the past 8 or 9 hours. The sun has done a number on us — my big nose is red as a beat, and we’re both exhausted. It’s just past 8pm and Annie is napping on the bed. We slept until nearly noon, so I question this move — she will not sleep through the night! Jetlag is a bitch.
Ice cream!
I’ve been home from my Hamburg trip for a week now, and figure I’d best compile some of my scribbled napkin notes now, before I forget them completely.
Our hotel was kinda nice.
Well, it’s V-Day.
Annie awoke to find a little surprise bouquet of flowers I left out for her.
A few hours later, I awoke to find that Zeus had torn open the garbage and devoured the carcass of a chicken. Which is great, because this is a dog who gets the shits when he eats most types of dog food, let alone chicken carcasses.
Friday, 2pm PST
I can’t help but notice that alcohol seems more effective in the airport. Why is that?
Friday, 6pm PST
I can’t help but notice that in-flight movies seem to make me weepy. Well, not full on weeping weepy, but the take-a-deep-breath-and-avoid-speaking-for-a-few-minutes kinda weepy. I mean, “Moneyball?” Really?
Working remotely is awesome. Right? It is. Usually.
But, sometimes I get a bit of cabin fever.
Take today, for example. It’s Friday morning, and I realize that this week, between the hours of 6am and 6pm, I’ve spoken to a grand total of three people.
… And, we went sledding.
The snow is too wet for decent skiing, so a bunch of us grabbed Krazy Karpets and hiked through the trees on Mount Seymour, sliding around.
Awesome!