I went to the Calgary airport (which might’ve been haunted) and began the long flight to London, my first Europe destination. I sat next to a nice woman who I chatted with and a nice man who I didn’t chat much with.

(Me in the middle between two people)

It took forever for the plane to land in Heathrow and kind of hovered in the sky for 40 minutes, which I’m beginning to understand is usual for the airport. Once it did, I breezed through customs (didn’t even talk to anyone), got very scared I did something wrong, met Aidan at the airport, and headed to Wimbledon via tube (ancient Skytrain) where I am, and will, be staying!

I did some boring things, SIM and soap shopping, and went to the pub for a fish and chips and Guinness. Here’s the thing: I’m in the UK. I went to a whole other continent by myself, of all choices I made by myself, but I don’t feel like I did yet. The majesty has not yet registered, the wanderlust has muted under a layer of “I’m sleepy” the likes I have never experienced before.

I slept for 14 hours. I am rejuvenated now, hopefully. Nothing I’ve done yet feels like travel proper. I don’t know yet what I’m going to do today. Hopefully, when I exit this door today, I will feel like I’m truly travelling.

Also, renovated Big Ben

Once I was done with the gallery it was already 5 (I seriously slept in so much) and we went right to a pub to see Aidan’s friends play. That’s right. It was in a tiny theatre above the pub. I got to talk to the playwright before AND after the play! It was about some people locked in a bunker after the end of the world and fucking.

I felt like such an adult hanging out at the pub and drinking and socializing. There was a group of 5 of us who got drinks before the play and sat together - one was an actor who Aidan saw on stage but didn’t know any of us.

After that, return to the flat. I barely ate all day (adrenaline) so I feasted on snacks well into the night. The way to the flat is, apparently, littered with roaming hoards of foxes. I only saw two foxes :(

Run fox run!

Commies have huge busts!!! 👙👙👙

I awoke at a more reasonable time, broke my fast at the nearby Sainbury’s, and quickly rushed to the north side of the city to visit the Highgate Cemetery i so longed for. It poured rain on me, but that only made it feel more gothic. The large tour group wandering the area not so much; but I’m a tourist too, so who am I to judge? Some old people annoyed me when I was looking at Douglas Adams grave because they didn’t know who he was and kept saying “why are there pens?”

To review the cemetery: very good. The west side was beautiful and the east side had many famous graves. Claudia Jones was there! Right next to Karl Marx. The cemetery was not worth £10.

I dawdled in the cemetery until I realized I was late to meet a friend so I ran to Camden. We explored the markets, and I felt greatly embarrassed to be dressed as a tourist when so many cool goths were around. I’m one of you, I swear! There was a shop called Cyberdog that sold cyberpunk outfits and wouldn’t let me try any of them on because I wasn’t cool enough. I’m not kidding. That happened. At least I got this ice cream though.

Candy on an ice \240cream? That’s too much, man!

Soho is… slightly disappointing. Very gay! But in terms of just how cool it is to walk around it lacks a bit. A man approached me and my friend and asked if he could “take shelter under our umbrellas, under our wings” and then said something about Jesus Christ before going to stand on a plant pot. I politely declined.

I haven’t had a lot of notable meals so far, but here’s the most interesting one so far. It’s in a brunch restaurant. That’s right. They serve brunch for DINNER. It’s fried chicken sandwiches in two donuts with Japanese coleslaw and Gochujang ketchup and smoked bacon and probably some other thing. Eclectic, and yet somehow it all made perfect sense.

To finish off the night we went to an underground metal bar. They played really loud metal music in a small room while a bartender yelled over it to explain the nuances of the metal cover of “hit me baby one more time”. I did garlic vodka shots. The place was called “garlic and shots”. I don’t know what else to say about that. Might go back for the garlic bread.

There’s a giant statue in gold of some bloke named Albert that I thought maybe I would steal and bring home, but I figured it wouldn’t work because I’d have to pay for checked luggage.

There were also a bunch of statues of naked people hanging around animals, which felt a bit inappropriate:

We returned to Soho again to remeet the group of now seven trans people for deep dish Chicago style pizza. I felt slightly unwell because I ate too much cheese and cream and bread. Also, I redownloaded Pokemon Go because one of our companions was playing and I noticed an Absol nearby, and then I got excited and spilled coffee on them.

Currently, I am in a nice cocktail Bar that has a cue and everything. Drinks just got here. I have to go. But, a cliffhanger: I do not plan on sleeping today. I will update you later.

A cloud died.

Yes, that’s what happened. A perfectly bright sunny day turned to torrential downpour in a perfect minute. Now, I’m no fool, I had my umbrella, but even a normal umbrella would struggle to shield one from this rain, and I didn’t even pretend my flimsy travel umbrella had a chance. I didn’t want to walk 20 minutes back home in this, but the nearby underground station would only get me about 5 minutes closer, and 15 minutes isn’t much better. So, I figured, I’m at the station, why not take the tube out into London, find a dry place to have a delicious meal in London Chinatown, and head back? It lined up too perfectly.

(Oh, what misery I could’ve saved myself if I hadn’t decided I was too good for a 20-minute walk in rain that I would, in a few hours time, consider “light”).

When I got off Leicester Square Station it was not raining. Great, now in addition to Chinatown, I can also walk the picturesque Flower Street I had spotted in the opposite direction.

[Side story: This street is my first ever Official Sarah Blog Hidden Gem Recommendation. \240I haven’t seen it on any “things to do in London” list, it had hardly any people, but it’s right in the centre of the city and has hardly any people. Basically everyone who was in here were French tourists, though.]

Well, right when I got to the end of this street, considering having a little coffee outside, it started to rain. Predictably. This rain was out for blood. The wind threatened to tear my umbrella to shreds and the rain didn’t come down in sheets, it came down in duvets. This wasn’t normal UK weather. Everyone - and I mean everyone - on the street started screaming and running for shelter. The train station instantly filled with a wall of people so I had to keep going and retreat to a Boots instead.

Image of me glaring at the Boots logo so they know that I don’t approve.

Look, I’ll come clean: I didn’t get picture or video of the rain. I know you won’t believe how bad it was without it. I don’t care. I was in survival mode. I don’t owe you. Trust me, your life is better off not knowing, not seeing the horrors of this rain. I’m doing you a favour. Think of the worst rain you’ve ever seen and then discard that thought because it’s stupid. Here’s an artist’s interpretation:

When the rain eased off from “biblical flood” to simply “insane”, I trekked to Chinatown, which was very busy and also very loud because of a nearby Free Hong Kong protest. The world could simply end in this moment and it would’ve been par for the course, that’s how much chaos I had been through getting to my destination. But I did, and I peacefully, slowly looked at restaurants to pick a good one to get inside and hide from the rain.

I picked one, and it was one of the tightest buildings I’d ever seen. In my stress they asked if I wanted to sit down or get takeaway. For some reason - I suppose it was the stress I was under and the fact it looked so busy - I did something very stupid. I said takeaway. So I stood soaking wet in the tiniest entryway of my life with a bunch of other people while the Free Hong Kong procession moved just outside. But I got my Char Siu pork. And I could head home.

Or… I could. If the Leicester Square station wasn’t closed.

Im not sure why it was closed, if it had to do with the rain, if it would take seconds or hours, or if they had simply lost the station keys, but I didn’t wait to find out because I knew the real reason was Divine Punishment. In a beat I walked really far to another station, dodging the (very numerous) emergency vehicles on the way, packed into the tube so close I was practically hugging someone for 40 minutes, walked through more rain, and got home to finally eat my ice cold takeaway

What really gets me is the whole ordeal (and I do not use the word ordeal lightly here) was only about three hours. I think this will change the course of my life forever. The very core of my being feels changed because of this super eventful day and it was somehow the quickest one yet. I went on Homer’s Odyssey in an afternoon just to get some char siu pork.

Food was good though.

Those Brits might be known as a bunch of tea-drinking pussies but they sure do know how to do a great red-blooded Americano, too.

After that, I decided to take the train very, very far off the touristy beaten path to the neighbourhood of Chiswick. It’s a terrible place with little service, everything that says it’s open is closed, and parents of small children kept glaring at me because I kept accidentally wandering too close to playgrounds. But I went there for a very good reason, one very small thing,, and I was really, really lucky that a certain gate was wide open.

That’s right. It’s the goddamn Taskmaster house.

Oh and I saw the bandstands too.

In all it took like two hours of my life to see both of them but it was sooooo worth it.

After that I decided since I already spent like an hour walking to find them, I’d keep the trend up and go to Hyde Park which I hadn’t explored extensively yet. It was beautiful and I got to giggle at all the statues of naked people.

The wildlife there was kinda crazy. I tricked a squirrel into thinking I had food and it touched my hand. A man with sunglasses did not touch my hand.

Okay: so. I was walking for like hours now and sat down to look up some things on my phone. A man came up to me and was like “can I sit here? All the other benches were full” which was totally true, and I was like, sure! He notices my accent and asks where I’m from and I explain that I’m travelling. It’s so nice to have made a friend on my travels! I was alone all day so having someone talk to me and be nice was really good. He told me I should go to the Canary Islands for some reason and then asked if I liked British pubs. I said they were cool but I’m definitely all boozed out from the rest of my week. He says he’s off to the nearby pub right now to meet a friend and asks if I want to join him for a drink

Wow, so friendly! A drink with some London locals! Sounds nice, but I politely decline because I wasn’t quite done with the park. He asks if I want to go later and I’m like, oh, I thought you were meeting a friend now? No, I have plans with the friend I’m staying with later. He asks me about tomorrow and I politely say no because I might see a comedy show. Then he asks if I want to stay in touch.

Well, no, not really, because my cell phone plan doesn’t have text messages and also because you haven’t given me a name yet. He politely says goodbye and walks in an opposite direction from where he said he was going. Wow, Londoners are so friendly and talkative to people travelling :)

Immediately wanting to leave the park after the encounter but not having anywhere to go, I took a random train and ended up at Baker Street. Which was pretty and all but not too interesting. Why it was so popular was a real mystery.

There’s another park, though, Reagent’s Park, that I haven’t seen yet. It’s very pretty but I think I liked Hyde Park better. At this point my feet are killing me because I’ve been walking nonstop going on 5 hours and I discovered the sole of my shoe is slightly damaged so I do the logical thing: walk up Primrose Hill, a massive hill nearby with a beautiful view of the city.

It was nice! Except that my phone was at 1%. I discovered the hard way that my dad’s company makes better software than hardware because the shitty power bank he got from there was hardly working. Sun’s preparing to set soon. But, I’m an intelligent girl. You know how I solved the problem of my dying phone and sore feet, all at once?

The solution is obvious, my dear Watson. I went to a tiny community library far off the tourist path and loudly asked in my obvious Canadian accent if I could charge my phone. And, miraculously… I could! I got my phone all the way past 60% while I calmly studied the Italian travel guides the library had, also solving the problem that I haven’t bothered to learn any Italian yet. Now I know how to say “excuse me”.

I decided to treat myself to an expensive dinner of quail at a Greek restaurant. Quail, I discovered, is not that interesting of a bird. Contrastly, the baklava dessert I had was absolutely heavenly and was the best thing I’ve eaten so far. Oh my god. I… I’m about to cry just thinking about it.

Then finally I went back to the flat to celebrate Kali Puja. We had Indian food (two dinners in one day, yay!) and invited the goddess Kali to sacrifice vegetables to her. I wanted to sacrifice a Daikon but because of Brexit nobody’s heard of Daikons and I had to use a carrot instead. Then we lit sparklers outside and I saw a slug and screamed. It was possibly the scariest thing I could’ve seen before Halloween. I made a wish to Kali and now I’m kicking myself because I should have asked her “please protect me from slugs”. Still, long day, very fun night!

View of Tower Bridge, a far cooler bridge, from London Bridge. The bridge scene in this city is insane.

We walked through the Borough Market and then immediately left because it was crowded and sucked. I was gonna get coffee there but I decided to get one from a church instead. I don’t condone the sexual abuse or pedophilia or the crusades or anything of the Catholic Church but I gotta say. They do make some pretty buildings and a good Latte.

After that we crossed to Tower Bridge, which was beautiful. Best Bridge I’ve ever crossed. I didn’t go up because the queue was insane and you’d have to pay and stuff and I hate paying because currency should be abolished (still thinking about the tomb of Karl Marx from earlier. RIP). The Tower of London was similarly very fun to walk past and not enter. Highly recommend that approach!

I went to a ruined church garden which was hidden behind some financial buildings (hashtag hidden gem!) I think it was called St Durnstans East Church or something. I dunno. Add it to the Sarah hidden gems list.

After that, the walk to Brick Lane, and… ah. Honestly, Brick Lane was immediately my favourite place in London. The street art was beautiful, there were so many neat shops and restaurants… sadly gentrification was getting to it and the street was too quiet at the time I went, but I still enjoyed the experience because it’s beautiful. Some of the bigger gentrification-themed restaurants will have a guy outside who clocks you as a tourist and tells you to go outside because they have good google reviews. I went in totally the opposite direction and had a vegan Ethiopian meal from a street vendor in a different market (absolutely delicious) and bought a magazine from a woman for a pound who was offering them to people to make a living. I wish I had given her all my change in retrospect. The magazine was rock and roll and fashion and totally ruled.

One thing I really wanted to do in London but kept missing was gay bars. And boy, did I go to a gay bar that night. It was called the Glory and I had two Long Islands (none of the straight bars seemed to make them but the queers sure do!) and we saw a cabaret show in the basement. I wanted to socialize with people but I was too awkward and everyone I approached seemed uninterested (I was wearing my laundry day clothes and I’m really scared I looked too straight).

The show was amazing and the perfect way to end London. 8 acts, mostly very raunchy, the highlights were the gay standup, a comedy song about how everyone should try disposable vapes, a song by a performer named “Girlboss God” called “I never said anal wasn’t allowed”, a dude dressed as the Duolingo owl doing a lipsync with bloody knives before changing into an outfit I can only describe as “sexy London tube costume”, and what what I call the “nuns striptease”. If anyone talked at any point or walked in late or was just generally in the room the host or whoever was performing roasted the absolute fuck out of them. I absolutely loved it and asked for a selfie with the Duolingo owl immediately after.

I wanted to sleep as soon as I got home but I had to pack my stupid bag for my stupid flight tomorrow so I didn’t end up going to bed until past 1, which is not a fun time to go to bed when you have to get up early for a flight tomorrow. I can deliver you some truly good news though: I did not wake up with a hangover.

Well, it started out great. Google maps lead me through a park that turned out to be an ancient road to Rome. All roads lead to Rome, they said. Well, it turns out this one dumped me onto a busy highway without a crossing that I had to run across while dudes swore at me in Italian.

I’ll admit it. For all my promises that I would be safe while travelling this was my first (in several in succession) I was genuinely unsafe. I’m sorry, everyone. I feel like I let everyone down and I have trouble admitting this. HOWEVER, know that I did end up in one piece and I’m totally fine now.

Nerves rattled, having to walk through a ditch, another busy road (this time someone let me pass), and some train tracks, the sun was setting and I had no idea where I was. Casabianca? That was not where Maps had promised to take me! There was an old man at the station that I desperately cried out “Dov’é Ciampino?” to (that’s right, I studied some Italian. I’m not all useless).

He didn’t speak any English but holy shit, he was a lifesaver. He gave me train directions not just to Ciampino but all the way to Termini, the actual place I was trying to go. I bought a ticket online (the only thing I figured out myself), and, I swear, this guy came all the way with me to help me find my way. He even shouted “Belline!” When I went the wrong way to transfer. We had the best conversation I could muster about what I was doing here but I couldn’t really explain why I was walking down a highway beside a military base at night with seemingly no idea where I was and no Italian.

So, like, fucking hell. I made it to Termini, and… Rome is terrifying at night. There’s my new problem. My hostel was nearby but my nerves were shattered and shot by that point. Rome traffic is terrible. Whereas in London where pedestrians seem to have the right of way, it looks like the priority goes 1) motorcyclists who go wherever they want 2) cars 3) everyone else 4) me. I went down the scary, scary street while people glared at me and I couldn’t even find the fucking hostel. Turns out it was in a shared building with a gate you had to ring, walk up a bunch of stairs, and then somehow know that the hostel was listed under a different name now because the hostel on floor 2 had acquired the hostel on floor 3 or something, I don’t know.

My nerves were dust now, but I got in, sat down, and tried not to cry. I decided I would just stay there and not go out again, even though I was hungry. I couldn’t even leave to find the Wifi password. I desperately wanted someone to come in and talk with me and finally, a man named Alejandro did. Holy fucking shit. Rome may be terrifying, but Alejandro was absolutely heaven sent for me that night.

He’s 27, well travelled, from Columbia, and totally talked me down from my panic attack. I explained it was my first time travelling on my own and I felt totally out of my element. He assured me it was alright, everyone had to start somewhere, and I was doing great. He even offered to come with me outside of the hostel to get food. He gave me hostel and travel advice and safety tips, and was just genuinely my hero for the evening. Since he was leaving Rome he even gave me his tour brochure. Goddamn. Alejandro is my hero.

We both went to sleep before anyone else got back to the dorm (they were quiet, yay). So here I am, the next day, having rushed out of the hostel without showering \240and had an apple and energy drink for breakfast, wolfing it down on the street like an insane person, Rome in the day isn’t so scary. Traffic still is. But I’m safe. Thanks to Alejandro. That’s the thing I learned. I tried to convince myself I was stronger than I thought, but I’m really not. We’re only as strong as the people around us. Without those two strangers I’d be so much more lost, possibly hurt, and now, I’m safe, sound, happy, and confident to rock this day like never before.

What.

As someone who did absolutely no essential research into this trip, I was delighted but very confused to find out that drinking fountains are installed everywhere for public use and are always running, and often come in fancy artistic sculptures. And I do mean everywhere. First one I saw I thought was a birdbath or something but no, I soon discovered, free drinking fountain. (That or I’m about to get very sick from drinking from these the whole time).

That’s the good part about Rome. The bad part about walking in Rome is the traffic. People just kind of… go? Anywhere? Especially if they’re on a motorbike? And most of the street crossings don’t even have crossing signals. I don’t like that!

Roman parks are cool because they’ll just casually have really old buildings there and it’s no big deal.

Sometimes there will be a sign telling you that it dates back to the 1500s and sometimes there’s just not.

I embarked on what I call my “solo self-guided walking tour”. I didn’t want to spend any money but here’s a tip: if you don’t go in any buildings they can’t stop you from just looking!

Colloseum.

Roman Forum.

I forgot already.

I also went to this little church because it was free

And a museum even though it wasn’t free because I desperately needed to get out of the sun. I think it’s my new favourite museum. Just halls and halls of cool ancient Roman shit. It’s giving me some decor ideas.

Is it vain if I say that this statue of Venus kinda looks a little like me

Now there was something I wanted to do in Rome and I knew based on my plans for tomorrow that it’s now or never. The non-catholic cemetery. It might quality as a “hidden gem” and a small little thing but it’s actually one of the main things that drew me to Rome for two amazing reasons. The tomb of Keats, and:

Crying angel sculpture.

At this point I was thinking, hey, I’m actually kind of enjoying myself in Rome despite the chaos of the morning and the fact that mostly I felt like I wa fighting for survival so far. I checked into my hostel (which was like, much nicer, although the beds were worse), showered (finally), and got myself a nice dinner (I deserved it).

Cacio e pepe, Rome’s signature pasta that I as very excited to try, and grilled squid with potatoes. Obviously I had an espresso after.

An excellent way to end off such a chaotic day. Of course, Rome was just beginning.

(Plus a quick stop at the Pantheon, obviously).

I opted for a guided tour of the Vatican City even though things like that usually aren’t my style. There were two reasons: 1) it seemed like an easier way to navigate all the stupid Catholic shit I didn’t know about and 2) all the regular admission tickets at a reasonable time were sold out. Plus, I can be socialable. I made a friend! More on that later.

The Vatican museums were actually way cooler than the Sistine Chapel, which was… kinda underwhelming. Pictures weren’t allowed, probably so they can keep suckering people in. It had that painting of God pulling on that other dude’s finger or whatever on the ceiling. Personally, I think the tour should’ve *started* there, then gone through the Vatican Museums which where equally cool but way, way bigger, so the majesty of the chapel would have had some impact. I mean c’mon

The fucking Popemobile!!!!!

I had a coffee and used the bathroom before I left just so I could brag about doing both of those in the Vatican. But more importantly, I made a friend. She’s trans (like me!) and from the UK and about my age and was on the same tour as me with her family, so, heck, I had to say hi and introduce myself because making a friend at the Vatican sounded fun. She’s going to become relevant later.

I left (and skipped St. Peter’s Bastilica because I’m only in Rome for what’s seeming increasingly like it’ll be two days), found some pizza that I was able to order and eat in under 5 minutes-

[actually, this part merits it’s own story. It was a pizza & kebab shop where The guy yells at people crossing the street in basically every language there is to try free samples of pizza, and I figured hey, priced per 100g it seemed like a good way to eat something because it was already past 2. It was just okay. I looked up the reviews after and the owners response to someone who complained that he didn’t use gloves was “it’s fast food, not a hospital”]

-and started rushing as many sites in walking distance as I could. I found a cat sanctuary built into the Roman ruins near where Caesar was assassinated and made a wish on the Trevi fountain. When I made it to Villa Bhorgese I felt like my feet were going to give so I decided to chill in the park before going back to my hostel for another late afternoon shower.

The villa was pretty, but like, damn.

I wanted to visit the Quartiere Coppede after sunset but I couldn’t figure out public transit that late so I decided, fuck it, I’m sick of Rome and I’ve already skipped so much that I know I’m coming back, and I got a nice pizza in a kinda sketchy area near the metro station that I couldn’t figure out how to buy tickets for.

I ordered off the menu at random and I’m still totally 100% behind that decision.

Plus, the girl from earlier messaged me and was like, hey, it was cool talking to you, wanna get a drink? I say sure and we organize some place between us. I didn’t want to go somewhere dangerous so we settled on a swanky, kinda expensive members-only cocktail bar in between us. I’m now a member of the underground bar “Drop” in Rome.

Where’s the interesting part, you ask? It’s that she’s 17. Which is below the legal drinking age in Italy. Nobody ever cards in Italy so she’s been getting away with it (with her parent’s permission) but her parents did NOT know she was sneaking out to meet at some weird bar with a stranger she had met earlier.

Fuck. Now that I’m helping a minor sneak out to buy booze in a city neither of us know I am exclusive club I have to be the responsible one in the situation. It was immensely expensive, but it was kinda the perfect place otherwise. Cool decor, quiet, friendly staff, absolutely DELICIOUS drinks (some of the best I’ve had) and it was ultimately the perfect choice, in my opinion. We both had two mixed drinks but then she had several shots.

I’m like “how tf are you getting home” and she’s like “idk, taxi?” So now we’re leaving the bar at ONE AM because more people are coming in while we’re both tipsy because I’m an uber lightweight. I’m like, do you want to call an uber? And she doesn’t know how. So I’m like, fuck it. I’m walking with you to the train station to hail a taxi and waiting for you until you get one. She does get locked in the bathroom if a pizzaria that was closing for the day along the way, but besides that, it goes off without a hitch.

It’s now ONE THIRTY AM and I have a train tomorrow at 9am, I’m about 20 minutes away from my hostel, buses aren’t running, tipsy, and I don’t really trust the taxis (the whole time I’m basically praying this teenager gets to her hotel safely. The Catholicism of the church is getting to me). As with everywhere I’ve gone so far in Rome, I choose to walk.

That walk home was one of the most depressing walks I’ve ever had. I’m far from everyone I care about and love, in a weird area, sad from alcohol, stressed over my plans, not really sure where I’m going after tomorrow, tired, terrified, miserable. I do get home to the hostel where I ask the receptionist (who was sleeping) if I can just sit with him for a few minutes. Finally I go up two flights of stairs and fall asleep.

Right now I’m writing this on the train to Rimini. I’ve been up since before 8 on a slow train through the countryside. I feel a lot better about my choices today, and the rest is super welcome. Plus, looking out the window at the countryside and the coast… how could I feel bad about myself? I devoured my grocery store Prochutto sandwich at the train switch in an Italian seaside resort town, and I’ve been writing the whole post for the past two days \240basically since I departed Rome. I am now 20 minutes away from Rimini where, while on the train, I booked a hotel for a few nights. I’m gonna rest up, get some beach time, visit San Marino… and hopefully, finally, recuperate. Where to next? Not sure, but I think the moral of the story is… decide exactly what you’re doing at least a few days in advance.

San Marino is a micro nation of 30,000 people on a mountain near (but not touching) the Italian coast, being one of the smallest countries in the world. It’s the best place I’ve visited so far. The view is beautiful. The architecture is beautiful. There’s so many museums and things to do crammed in such a small area. Food isn’t great (too many goddamn piadinas) but hey you can’t win them all. I went to a tacky vampire museum just because it was Halloween, but after like 3 hours I felt like I had done everything I wanted and I was tired and wanted to go home. So I went back to the hotel.

Why am I so sleepy? Certainly too tired to go to the Halloween party. My stomach is starting to bother me just a little. Maybe all the shitty food I’ve been eating? Too bad I’m in an awful beach resort and I have to resort to a cheese Piadina for dinner, which is basically a worse quesadilla. I fall asleep on Halloween early.

November 1st comes along, my last day in Rimini. I’m sick of this place but I want to visit the beach. I spent all day feeling awful (bad sleep?) looking for a bikini but I don’t find one until like 2pm because somehow, nowhere in this BEACH TOWN sells one. It… looks really good on me. I wanted something conservative and ugly so that I could swim and people would leave me alone, but, shit, I look like a swimsuit model. It was the only one I could find. Well. Okay, whatever, at least I can take it home.

I eat grocery store salad for lunch (I NEED HEALTHY FOOD) and decide to pop to the beach in street clothes. At this moment I am wearing street clothes with a bikini underneath. That’s important. As soon as I get there the sun (which has been blazing all week) goes behind a cloud and it gets cold and nobody else is swimming. I feel too self-conscious being the only one so I decide to walk down the beach and lie down a couple times, feeling the need to relax.

Some old guy comes up to me and says “pretending it’s summer?” As I’m sunbathing and I chuckle. Well, he says it in Italian but I figured it out because he rode away on a bicycle and then came back to keep talking to me. He starts asking me where I’m from and if I like Rimini (normal stuff!) then asks me if I’m staying alone. “Nope!” I say, obviously. I might not have a lot of sense but I do have some. With that he says “okay, bye” and rides off. Fucking hell.

After getting creeped on I decide I’m definitely not swimming (the one thing I wanted today, mind you) and keep walking up the beach, then back, holding my flip flops in my hands, feeling the sand in my toes. Another guy