I'm going to admit that it took me a long time to sit myself down at this computer and start writing about my trip, because when you've just spent the past two weeks bopping from country to country all down the Iberian Coast, where do you even begin?
Anyway. Europe. Eurooooopeee. It was exactly as amazing as I imagined it would be. B and I flew into Milan and had a day to explore ourselves before meeting up with the rest of the press group and taking a bus to Genoa for the cruise. That's right, the motherflippin' press group, ya'll. We'll get into that later.
It looks like I'm really excited about these pigeons right now, but really I'm in some state of shock over their aggressiveness. It's like "The Birds" of el Duomo over there. Only with flying street rats instead of crows. Also? Two words: pigeon lice. This is pretty much an obsessive hand washer's biggest nightmare. I'm only laughing like a little girl because it tickled. That's it. Not because I've always dreamed of commanding a flock of birds with my hands. That's just silly.
In Milan, we walked our little hearts out. And every corner we turned, I fell more in love with the city, with it's electric trolleys and zippy mopeds and cobblestone streets and flowerboxed windows and colorful facades.
And and when we thought we couldn't walk any more, we popped into a little bar and enjoyed a few beers and some olives and crisps. And you know what's the best thing about popping into bars for a few beers? The complimentary olives and crisps that they always bring to your table. And about those olives? I could eat them forever.
We met up with the group for our first official Italian dinner and good gah that food was a party in my mouth. Not just a party, but a full out Carnival celebration of the most delicious foods you can imagine. Ever.
And when the restaurant closed, we hit the hotel bar with another couple in our group. And when the hotel bar closed, we hopped on the tram and found another bar. And when that other bar who's name and exact location escapes me, which might or might not have something to do with three bars of Italian wine, we hailed a cab and stumbled into our hotel room. And I'm not gonna lie, but I do have a distinct memory of throwing open our hotel room door, dropping my purse, throwing open my arms and shouting, "THIS is AWESOMEEEEEEEE."
And here's the thing about European hotel rooms: they are very energy efficient. As a way of ensuring that no lights are wasting energy in an empty room, guests must slide their key card into a slot by the doorway and keep it there. When you leave your room with your card, any lights that were left on shut off within a minute or so.
This, however, was not something that B and I could quite figure out after three bars of Italian wine. So when we came in and turned on all the lights, we couldn't figure out why everything went black while B was in the bathroom and I was fumbling around the bed.
We did figure that the key card needed to be inserted into that slot to turn the lights on, but our wine soaked brains didn't connect the dots that the card needed to stay in the slot in order for the lights to stay on. After a few more minutes of fumbling around in the dark than I'd like to admit, we finally gave up and went to bed.
And here's the kicker. Apparently, the housekeeping also use that little slot to determine whether a room is vacant, so they know when it's safe to enter in the morning. Since our key card slot was empty and the room was dark, housekeeping entered, where they found B and I sprawled across the bed, buck nekkid, and no doubt reeking of booze.
Eurotrip Day 1
Good gah, I love Europe.