I only have 99 luftballons in my heart and anime eyes for an androgynous dreamstar named Berlin.

The assignment was to describe our spring break in one paragraph for Italian class last Tuesday. Until I took the creative liberty to write more, the only way I could possibly explain was with multiple incoherent ramblings and allegories (using zero percent Italiano). If you could imagine the following scenario, you'll skip to the page I'm on: Envision being in a stable, quasi committed relationship. For me, this is Florence and I. We're reasonably obsessed with each other, but by-in-large the honeymoon is over. Neither of us shave our legs anymore and we'd rather watch wheel of fortune than go through the motions ONE more night. THEN I cruised online and went on a blind date with Berlin, thinking it would mean nothing until it meant everything. We ate Currywust, drank Berliner Pilsener, tagged brick walls, chased pidgins with air dusters, and woke up wearing oversized plaid shirts. 

Fortunately, we share the same passion for dingy bars. 

Unfortunately, I've cheated on someone I do love.

As a result, I've decided I'm learning German, getting a hobby (collage-ing), a side job (collage-ing for pay) and a real job (tour guide for tips) and moving to Berlin after I graduate. Then we can pick up right where we left off: 3AM at curry-point. As for Florence, if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with.              

Scandinavia is secretly worth it.

Adrienne's spring break was last week so naturally I was inclined to skip all MY classes and go on a Scandinavian adventure. Our flight left early on Wednesday so we stayed the night in Milan after booking a REALLY sweet hostel, appropriately named: Sweet Hostel. Instantly obsessed once we were introduced to the complementary instant coffee and communal dog named jack. Our roommates consisted of an unsurprisingly quiet gentleman from South Korea and a couple from Finland. The Finnish guy snored all night: restrained myself to one Unisom, determined to remember the flight the next morning. "Woke-up" to my cell phone alarm: A British woman saying, "It’s time to wake up, the time is seven-forty." We all bonded over her ridiculous computer-generated voice. Even Korea was laughing: language was no barrier at 7:40AM. We noshed the weak continental breakfast, downed the rest of the coffee flakes, and chatted it up with the Canadians backpackers next door (after unintentionally mooning one them when I neglected to lock the bathroom door. GOOD MORNING!) Took a shuttle-bus-sauna to the airport, and then hopped on an obnoxious blaze orange 'Easy Jet' to Denmark. We had already planned on staying with one of Adrienne's friends in Copenhagen; he was going to meet us at the train station. Tried to call him when we got there, but turned out we were one digit short of having a REAL cell phone number. G r e a t. Felling pretty awesome at this point with eighty pounds of luggage strapped to my back and after refusing to pay a euro to pee in Milan I was becoming a REAL treat. Per usual, everything I know about Denmark I learned from Samantha Brown's: Passport to Europe. SO I had already been informed about some hippie town in or around Copenhagen: the first of many dream destinations. Two metro stops away and we were there: Christiania, soon to be renamed 'Dopenhagen' an hour later. I would have taken a picture, making the experience last longer, but I didn't want to get shot. Tourists are not allowed to take pictures ANYWHERE in their 'community', especially on the block where they exclusively sell drugs to children, glorified homeless hipsters, and us.

Our first real day in Copenhagen, Steve had class so Adrienne and I were left with two bus passes and our own devices. We heard rumor of a dollar-store type experience that existed somewhere in this over priced town. Luckily, we found 'Tiger' within the first thirty seconds of getting let out at the central bus station. "This place seems to have reasonable prices." yea, lots of things seem reasonable when you're paying 50 kroner’s for a cup of coffee.

Day Two: Museum day. Craving modern art, we hit up Statens Museum of Art. Secretly everything that Italy is lacking has been hiding in this building since the thirties. god bless. Because a portion of the sales made off of Carlsberg beer is filtered into the National Museum budget, and considering a lot of Danes are alkies, most museums are free! We ended up having to pay for one wing of the museum: the Wilhelm Freddie (Danish Surrealist) exhibit entitled: 'Stick a Fork in your Eye!'. A small fee for a HUGE mindfuck. Thanks, Freddie. I think that night we continued the theme for the day, supporting the arts by drinking beer, played some white-man guitar, found some Germans to dance with. but the REAL rewarding part of the evening started when we got home and made the unanimous decision to make French toast. Oh, how we missed maple syrup.

Day Three: Adrienne and I found the BEST StumbleUpon ever: a Children's Museum. The exhibit, according to the Danish cognates, was aimed at children between the ages of 0-8 (our exact attention span). Sometimes I forget how much fun it is to play dress-up in a faux Pakistani market.

After watching danish game shows we passed out at like ten. and after sharing two lovely nights of sleeping on the 'guest bed' (a twin-sized kitchen sponge) with Adrienne, she finally moved out. In pursuit of a better nights rest on the yoga mat and sleeping beg. She promised it was her and not me, the jury is still out on that.

Spent our final day in Sweden! There was an international film festival going on so everyone and their mom was there. We had our hungry eyes on the second we got off the train by, at two in the afternoon, and upon discovering that absolutely no one was going to take our credit cards we ended up eating at: The China Box (not quite the cultural experience I had hoped for). Continued binge eating at 'Wanyes' the Starbucks of Sweden: eating delicious pastries, gluged coffee, and laughed every-single-time the Batista greeted a new customer with a: HEEEYYY! (their official greeting, somehow?)


UH. can't imagine writing one more sentence.

in conclusion:

Scandinavia is the dream,
trying to understand Danish is impossible.
Carlsberg beer is my new favorite.
Swedes are fucking insane, but exponentially hotter than any Dane.

I'll do a n y t h i n g other than study. or pack.

The guy sitting next to me is working on a paper entitled 'the consequences of consumption and the uncertainty of avoidance.' I think that means, coca cola light, if i knew how to quit you I'd be two euros richer. I thought this computer lab was specifically reserved for facebooking anyway? Stop making literally everyone feel worthless. I once had dreams and ambitions of accomplishing shit today. Like 'reviewing for midterms' which should be 'necessary' seeing as I'm skipping this week of classes to dick around in Copenhagen. Get back on sunday, just in time to take those exams (sans review of any kind). Same as it ever was. Yesterday Adrienne and I worked form nine to five, trying to plan spring break part two: Berlin. Airlines like to lure you in by making flights cheap on the way there, but. oh, you wanna get back? that will be 200£ thanksloveyouciao. all the while using Ana's computer, translating our way through the spanish default setting: an unforgiving roadblock. Finally, gave into expidia.com, finding comfort in making our charges in dollars. we're saving SO much money, this is practically a side-job. Capped the night off by rekindling our love of 9th grade english: watched Harold and Maude whilst downing 1.5 liters of wine on an empty stomach. uhhh. As a result, I woke up to a self-diagnosed case varicose veins paired with unstoppable cotton mouth. Those are the REAL consequences of consumption, guy.