Almost any gig will do: A letter

Hi Ms. Higel,

I hear you are leaving soon and was urged to contact you asap.

The run down: I graduated from USF- St. Pete last December w/a Business Management degree. My experiences include a year studying abroad in Australia, an internship in NY w/a record label, and most recently a six month stay in Belgium where I taught English to children.

Looking for: anything...legal.

Why come back from Europe? Unfortunately I got quite a bit homesick and really missed my family, friends, good karaoke, and country music. Alas, here I am, back in St. Petersburg, and am essentially starting over. I have no car, no money, and least of all NO JOB.

Most of my friends who graduated w/me have hung on for dear life at the jobs they had in College. Luckily I am blessed to have NO kids, no huge loan repayments, and no mortgage. So in that sense I am doing great! On the other hand being 22 years of age, jobless, and considering Publix post graduation was not what I had imagined.

I have reached out to my quite impressive network of professional connections in the area and utilized Facebook to tell others of my hunt. No bites. It seems as though the 'favor' well has run dry.

If you could give me any advice, leads, or reassurance I am all ears.
Hope to see you soon.

Thank You,
Holly Berggren

Dirty Mouths in Dublin

What is it about Irish boys that have me so enthralled? Is it their good humor, sarcasm, or merely a nice accent that does it? This past February I spent one week alone in Ireland. In Dublin I went to a bar called The Dame which was an old time, traditional pub across from the touristy Stag's Head. There I met a man nicknamed Crazy who told me that the Celtic Tiger did not help the blue collar people. He also reminded me how sensitive the male ego really is after blowing up on me when I wished to go chat with younger, more handsome boys. I guess Crazy was not merely a nickname eh? Anyway, looking back I see that he was desperately trying to hold and defend his manhood by putting me in my place. Another fellow at The Dame gave me a very serious interrogation asking me question after question on Irish history. The funny thing was he would never actually give me a moment to answer his pop quiz. He would jump down my throat with answers before I had a chance. I am glad I could give him the opportunity to demonstrate his knowledge in front of his peers. Something was making these men angry and resentful but I could not place it. The anger could be linked to feelings of unimportance in the wake of economic turmoil. It could stem from a deeply rooted unease from a lack of land control to foreign powers. I would presume that the male ego, alcohol, and Catholicism all play their parts in the making of an Irish man. It appears to me that religious/political oppression leads to repression as a means of coping with that loss of control. In turn that repression of angst surfaces like a volcano with a little help from booze.

When I am around lots of guys my humor generally lends itself to crudeness. Therefore, on a couple of occasions chatting with Irish fellows I made a vulgar joke or comment that would have been perfectly acceptable in the States (in the right context). I noticed they were not gathering much of a response. Am I just not as funny as I thought? I knew this could NOT be the case, so I went in search for an explanation to my discomfort. Hence, I asked a young Irishmen with whom I had been chatting if sex was a taboo topic in Ireland. He responded with an assuring "Absolutely!" In fact he went on to explain that he and his buddies do not exchange sexual details about their escapades. However, last week in Brussels I met a team of Irishmen called the Rebels here for an American football tournament. We sang karaoke, danced to cheesy music, and bantered on until morning about such topics as body hair, relationships, and music. With them I was completely able to be myself and joke in any way I saw fit. I felt accepted as 'one of them'. Perhaps our encounter might have been different had it been on Irish soil. Did they check their guilt at the Dublin Airport exit? A young team member of the Rebels told me that there are many mixed signals sent to young Irishmen by their parents. For example he said that boys are encouraged to score with girls by treating a scenario where a girl sleeps over in a casual manner. He said the mother may even cook them up some breakfast and pay for a cab. However, if a girl were to have a guy spend the night, "Off with his head!" The acceptance of sexually active young men and not of women is very similar to the States. The main differences that remain are legal freedoms and open discussion.

In the States sex is an unavoidable subject that is practically shoved in our faces. Our conversations are riddled with it, our stars make videos of it, and our children are having it much too young. We are completely desensitized to the ins and outs (no pun intended) of sexual activity. The line between inappropriate and appropriate comments can be blurry. American news brings us stories of high school girls making pacts to become teen moms, treating babies as if they were the latest Pokemons. Recent data shows that teen pregnancy is on the rise for the first time in fifteen years. Men pat one another on their backs if they 'get some'. It is assumed that there is something wrong with those who do not play our oh-so-fun and harmless games. Compare this mentality to that of an environment in which sex is shrugged beneath the rug due to a sense of guilt, not pride. Walking through the streets of both Dublin and Galway I saw no public displays of affection. However, in the evenings nobody seemed shy about it.

"God is light, and in him is no darkness at all" (I John 1:5).

Might God be better able to look down upon us and watch our sins unfold in the light of day?

Upon independence of the Republic of Ireland government was formed based upon Catholic moral guidelines. Systemic differences in American and Irish government may hold the answers to some of the differing views on sexuality. Due to the illegality of abortions in Ireland, an increasing number of teenage girls travel to the UK to have abortions, reaching over 10,000 per year. Therefore, teen fertility rates are inconclusive and difficult to find. Another endemic result of the government foundations is the difficulty in prosecuting clergy criminals. Lawyers representing victims who have been raped by men of the cloth seem to be earning little in consolations. There have been recent (May 20, 2009) BBC reports of rape and abuse of thousands in Catholic institutions from the past few decades with little punishment to those who turned a blind eye to the horrors inflicted on young, vulnerable boys. Education, sexual and otherwise, is predominately Catholic with over 90% (Associated Content, 2009) of Irish children attending denominational schools. Interestingly, the more educated Irish from higher social classes tend to take a liberal stance on sex out of wedlock according to the Crisis Pregnancy Agency (CPA). Ironically, the CPA is run by the Church and therefore is unable to provide any information on contraceptives or abortion to inquiring females. However, one should not look at religion in isolation of other influencing factors.

A full analysis of Irish nationalism, religion, and appetite can be found in a book entitled The Things They Say Behind Your Back, by William B. Helmreich. In which he speaks of differing explanations to the Irish mentality and behaviors. Overbearing mothers, emasculation from a lack of land control, and Jannsenism based Catholicism, which viewed sex as a sinful deed, have been linked to the Irish male's sexual repression. Sex tends to go hand in hand with feelings of guilt and shame. The great famine of the 1840s created a bachelor society stemming from the inability to provide for a family. As a result Irish in large numbers immigrated to America and Australia perpetuating the stereotype of the "Irish Drunkards" and "Fighting Irish" due to the formation gangs and propensity to drink in order to create a sense of control over their destinies.

As a young American I went to Ireland with a preconceived notion of the drunken Irishmen. Raised by my great grandmother, she filled my head with foul memories of her abusive, alcoholic, Irish father. She warned me of Irish boys based on her experiences growing up in Worcester, MA. Naturally I wanted to find out what made them so misbehaved and to partake in some of the scandals myself. What can I say? Maybe it is my love of Irish music or my Irish roots. It could be their wit or informal ways. I think their most endearing qualities may well be those that at times lead them to destructive behaviors. It is their wild hearts, vindictiveness, and outlandish behavior that intrigue me so.

Maybe I had judged too harshly after my first visit to Ireland. The Rebels did not seem quite so frustrated though I met them out off their home court. When travelling, often I feel that new rules suddenly apply. However, when I told a couple guys from the group my thoughts on their fellow countrymen, they agreed there was a definite sense of inherent guilt. One of the young men told me that it tends to be easier for Irish guys to chat up American girls, because Irish women will have none of it. On one occasion in Galway I was baffled by the cold shoulders I received the morning after I had been out for the two nights preceding with a group of Irish guys. I was seen as a reminder of all that debauchery. In the case of the Rebels I hope that our evening together left them with happy memories as it has for me. I hope to see some of them in Dublin and we shall find out if the dynamic changes along with the environment.

These are merely observations supported by casual conversations with a few facts and figures. There are exceptions to every rule and I believe I met a few of the outliers in the Rebels, an appropriate name. However, when the woman you are taught to revere above all others is Mother Mary, an Irishmen might unintentionally demonize the fun American girl he meets in the pub. Let us remember that Ireland is a bit behind in the liberalization of its views. Homosexuality was illegal in Ireland up until 1993. In the early part of the 20^th century you could not even put on a dance without a license to do so and giving a lot of information to the government. Up until the 1970s books containing references to birth control, sex, violence, and cursing were banned in the Republic of Ireland. Nowadays the Irish have comedians like David McSavage who go joke about masturbation on late night talk shows. The times, they are a changing.

“Ya’ll come back now, ya hear!” says Amsterdam

When the major tourist attractions of a place are a red light district and Mary Jane coffee shops one might not imaging a classy trip. ‘One’ might be right in my opinion. The first words that come to mind when I think of my recent visit to Amsterdam are meat and market. Holland is a land of windmills, Heineken, and hoards of young, misbehaving tourists.

For the liberal minded traveler a shrug of shoulders may be the response to legal pot, prostitution, and mushrooms. A crowd other than the one I enjoy rolling with tends to be drawn in by this sort of an environment. Weed loving Americans frolic in the streets like kids in a candy shop.

I am sure there is a wholesome and cleaner side of Amsterdam though it was hard to see from where I was staying. In the red light district the pretty canal views were obstructed by crazy eyed individuals and boys window shopping for naked girls. “Oooooohhhh! Tisk, tisk!” says I.

FYI, the going rate for legal shag is 50 Euros. Which is cheaper: a professional or a girl in a bar selling it for momentary attention? I choose the latter. Can the prostitute truly compartmentalize her business from pleasure? If sex is learned to be a business transaction, than I would conclude that a professional could be better equipped to separate her core being from the actual act. A girl partaking in meaningless sex with strangers may be selling herself while the prostitute sells a service.

Then again maybe we are all what we do. The jobs we choose must be a reflection and direct result of the lives we choose to live and the people we choose to be. If this is the case than I would argue that people selling themselves at a discount rate may be found on street corners, bars, courtrooms, accountant firms, doctor’s offices, libraries, Laundromats, and MOST certainly in Amsterdam.

Innovation from Desperation

The following was in response to a Fulbright scholar who studies entrepreneurs and the common characteristics that lead to their success. Those interested in Business should check out his blog: http://timetogetstarted.wordpress.com/

In addition to the renewed invigoration of an entrepreneurial spirit and true personal passions I would like to comment on one benefit financial turmoil has afforded me: perspective.

At first glance recent graduates appear at a disadvantage to our predecessors who left college with a plethora of job options. During the Clinton years entry level salaries were quite high. Newbies learned to love the green and ran with it.

Warm and fuzzies associated from the purchases of fancy cars, nice homes, and bling tend to wear off once reality hits. The realities, to name a few, came in the form of high gas prices, mortgage meltdown, and DIVORCE....of course she left your ass, you were always working!

We measly recent graduates, who have to taste a bit of what it is like to work hard, be poor, and get creative in order to achieve our goals, should count ourselves lucky. My alternative route brought me to Brussels where I am picking up some French and teaching English to children. If I had rushed straight into the career world I probably would have missed out on this experience. Golden opportunity time: the world is giving us the perfect excuse to stay young, enjoy youth, and slow down. I am going to take it. Put on your favorite soul record and do what feels right.

I feel blessed that I was not handed a shiny job straight out of college. Now I can properly plan for the future with some real world perspective. Not to mention the fine tuning of my mad karaoke skills. Here's to the good life!

The sign above the entrance/exit of Christiania

If it sounds too good to be true…

 

Nothing is free in life. Least of all an entire TOWN! Christiania, Denmark deems itself a "free town" where the use of cannabis is sold and consumed openly. This may sound like a dream to some but from my visit to this wonderland of potheads I believe that dream grew into a nightmare.

A brief history of Christiania:

1971: a group of tree hugging, pot smoking hippies took over abandoned military barracks to create their own island town once called Amager Island.

1989: legalized by the Danish Parliament.

1991: inception of a local law deeming Christiania a "free zone", open to all, car free, and under the control of its inhabitants.

2004: Danish authorities crack down on the cannabis trade in Christiania. Inhabitants now operate more on the down low. The open stalls closed and the pot was moved outside of Copenhagen. However, this has not diminished the pot sales on Pusher Street. If anything it has a broader dissemination throughout Copenhagen with harder drugs being easier to access.

2005: Various gangs begin the fight for control over the newly opened underground cannabis market.

April 23, 2009: Just a few days before my arrival in Christiania a hand grenade was thrown at a crowded café. A young man's chin was blown off and several others were injured.

 

Christiania is a perfect example of an idealistic society gone awry through increasing sanctions from outside parties and a lack of internal control. These people literally tossed a bunch of potheads together and wound up with some pretty art, yoga stretches, and decent music if you are stoned. However, this free love has culminated in violence, pollution, and hypocrisy.

Despite its being a car free zone there are over a hundred car owners residing in Christiania. Many welfare, homeless, addicts, and single mothers find refuge within the city. I did not spot any large gardens full of vegetables and fruits in order to sustain its residents. No butcher signs or cattle ranches on this island. One can only conclude that as independent as they believe themselves to be many if not most of the Christianites are dependent upon the hard working citizens of Copenhagen and Denmark as a whole. They seem to reap the benefits of those who produce the most output while not giving much back as input. They are smoking, dancing, and drinking on the Danish kroner of others. Sounds like someone needs to grow up and get a job.

Drugs tend to breed a culture of lazy, self indulgent adults. The "love thy land" hippies of yester year have been replaced by littering, too cool for school rebels. The art community still thrives and seems to shine through the thick smoke clouds but it's no Louvre.

All in all the wild atmosphere with its Scottish rap outfit performing and awkward Dane on the accordion could not outweigh the fear I had of tripping on a dead dog and falling on a bed of needles and broken glass. I left for greener pastures and normalcy. Ironic since there were signs that read "Normalia".

Where the Green Grass Grows

Happy is the feeling that comes to mind whilst walking through castle gardens. Today Kimberley, Chloe, and I spent a lovely day frolicking (yes, we frolicked) through Hyacinth and Tulip filled gardens. With rickety bridges and a castle to boot, it was a day of great beauty. We even brought the smell home with us thanks to the Hyacinths Kimberley purchased on our way out. I find it difficult being anything other than content basking in their fragrance, typing some words on the computer, and drinking chocolate milk.

To end this fun filled day I am planning my trip to Copenhagen next weekend to see my Aunt Carrie and (soon to be) Uncle Ajay. A very exciting few weeks lay ahead. The following weekend I head back to Paris for a rowdy weekend with Miss Marie Humbert-Droz, the one and only. After all I MUST return her favorite cozy socks that I seem to have stolen. Urgent and pressing matters indeed…

It is nice to have the family back in the house. I was beginning to have conversations with myself which was a bit confusing. :0

Any who, I believe it is time to sit back and watch some telly. By the way, just watched Happy Go Lucky by Mike Leigh: please watch this movie! This girl is totally me. Mom I think you will agree. This is the story of a totally wacky, single 30 year old who is so concerned with the happiness of those around her that she tends to take it to extremes. An absolute must see.

Still here

Just want to say hello to everyone. I have not been keeping up with this blog as I have been quite busy teaching English to small children at a language school. It is great fun.

What can I say? Making friends, still eating great food (some of which I have actually cooked!), and working on lesson plans. Who woulda thunk it?

Last night I sang at karaoke with some new friends and had a really fun time. I still think Detour is the best...

Its funny how NYC is known as the city that never sleeps. But I am not sure I have been in a bar in nyc that actually is "legally" open all night long. Here in Belgian, known to many (unjustly) as a boring place, I have been to SEVERAL bars that stay open until dawn. And people are happily still going til the wee hours. Usually that is reserved to the clubby places in other big cities, but here its just normal bars open all night. I am not advocating staying out all night, just merely making another arguement against the preposterous idea that Brussels is a boring city. Quite the contrary.

There are buildings and walls throughout the city adorned with comic characters for heavens sake. Loosy, goosy.

Love this statue

Love this statue
Originally uploaded by lovethypassport

Great View of Brussels

Great View of Brussels
Originally uploaded by lovethypassport

Place Sablon

Place Sablon
Originally uploaded by lovethypassport

IMG_0628

IMG_0628
Originally uploaded by lovethypassport

Brick Stairs Meet Bum

Hello you beautiful people you.

Today I am hobbling around as I bruised my booty and left elbow last night. What ha-ha-happened was: I was trying to make a glamorous entrance into a super duper cool basement bar near Gare Central called La Porte Noir. As I was cautiously descending the steep brick staircase into the dungeon, I slipped and down I went. They had to be brick. Of course I laughed it off like a champ.

The scene brought to mind the Ellen Degeneres bit where she discusses our tendency to laugh when embarrassed, no matter how much pain we may be experiencing. "Where is my eye? Ha ha…I can't find my eye. Ha." Luckily I was with a couple of pals who helped me up and picked up the magazines that had flown about.

James, an editor of a local magazine Kimberley writes for, Colin, and I went to La Porte Noir after bowling in a league nearby for the entire evening. It was great fun but I was definitely playing amongst greatness. I lagged behind by 80 points for the majority of the night. Effort was put forth I tell you. There was a great group of folks, and it was a laugh. We lost by the way.

Tomorrow Kimberley, John, and Chloe head to the States for a few weeks. It's a good thing I will be keeping busy with my new job and trying to fill up my agenda. So it will just be Millie and me hanging out. She is probably the coolest cat in the world.

Small Country, Grande Baguette

Uh oh folks…I know some of you will cringe when you hear this (Nini), but I believe I am beginning to fall in love with this strange city of Brussels (Bruxelles). My pals and I back in St. Pete are pretty well versed in Belgian beer thanks to Dan and Colleen at the Independent bar. However, many unique flavors can be found if one is daring enough to look in Belgian food, architecture, shopping, music, etc. For those of you who are as clueless about Belgium as I was before arriving here I have provided a map:

There she is...she's a bute ain't she? So there I am job hunting and exploring in Brussels. If I knew how to draw in a stick figure I would. Guess you will just have to use your imagination.

As you can clearly see Belgium is positioned between France, Germany, and the Netherlands. Therefore, it has a nice blend of Bavarian, French, and Dutch cultures.

Brussels is actually a dual language city comprised of both French and Flemish. All of the signs in the city are given in both languages. However, French is the most used language in Brussels. English would probably come in second.

So I have lots more to discuss however I have grown weary and need some R&R.

But first here is a taste of how well I have been eating. Notice I am absent from these photos. I am trying to hide the evidence on my chubby cheeks of over a month of non-stop bread, cheese, and chocolate. Kimberley has also been feeding me wonderful home cooked meals. When she leaves I am going to have to whip out the children's cookbook.

Bisoux

Brussels 003

Brussels 003
Originally uploaded by lovethypassport

Oh and this was my appetizer...wow I ate a lot that night. This was incredible. It was a bit like fondue on the inside w/shrimp and fried on the outside. Mouthwatering.

Le Boeuf Americain

Le Boeuf Americain
Originally uploaded by lovethypassport

Le boeuf americain...American Fillet
Its worth a glance at the wikipedia explanation. This is raw beef folks, and it is my new favorite dish. They serve it with raw egg, capers, onions, and mayo. Mix it all together and voila! Seriously though, se magnifique...especially with dijon mustard, tobasco, and worcestershire sauce.

Cafe avec un sucre shoz

Cafe avec un sucre shoz
Originally uploaded by lovethypassport

Generally when you order a coffee at a restaurant you get a complimentary sweet as well. No wonder I drink so much coffee. (Chalet Rouge)

Tooth update

Infection...gross. On antibiotics. In Belgium and I can't even drink any infamous Belgian brews bc of this darn tooth! The upside is this three week detox may enable me to lose some of the bread and cheese flab I appear to have acquired as of late.

Wisdom

I have nothing wise to offer aside from a few wise cracks. Nevertheless, my wisdom tooth is not playing well with his neighbors thereby causing me quite a bit of pain. Great way to start out my time in Brussels. Not to worry. I am taking care of it tomorrow at the dentist's office. Goodbye wisdom tooth...will I leave the doc a tiny bit dumber?

There it is...my wise crack.

So today I went for an interview to work w/a family as a part time nanny. Their main intent is for me to teach their daughter (2.5yrs), Andrea, English. If all goes well I will be staying in Brussels for as long as I can afford to. They would prefer at least 1.5 yrs...which is the perfect length of time for me to properly learn French.

Also, Kimberley told me about super cheap (150Euros) semester French as a second language class at the University here.

Brussels is the center of the EU and NATO. It is a political behemouth and this intices me. Not to mention this town has a plethora of networking opportunities.

We shant forget about all of the great beer here either. What is schmoozing without some boozing?

haha...here is the link: http://www.chateaulalinde.com/

Ok...Try not to be jealous!

Check out this link. I will be spending 5 Days here in the Dordogne at the end of April thanks to Kimberley. HOW LUCKY AM I????

Switzerland Smells Like Cheese

She may not be a movie star but when it comes to bein happy, we are.
Switzerland may not be as enthralling or seductive as glitzy Paris but that does not mean she is any less inspiring. Frankenstein was set along the Lake Geneva region; Lord Byron was influenced to write of a famous prisoner at Chateau Chillon (a Castle I visited...hope that is correct spelling); heck the Swiss even invented Absinthe.
Lausanne is a quiet town of approx. 120,000 residents who enjoy their cigarettes (indoors!), respect noise levels, and love their cheese. The last being my personal favorite.
My friend, Hannah, brought me way up in the mountains to a town called Gruyere for some true cheese fondue. Amazing. It looks like my other friend, Marie, is craving fondue for tomorrow night as well. If there is such a thing as cheese detox then I am going to need it after this week is over.
If you want to try a true Swiss meal, here it is:
Pork sausage with cabbage mixed in
Served on top of Leek and Potato
Dip in mustard (preferably FROM Dijon, France)
...Does not sound like much but I had this for lunch today and it was to die for.
Okay bedtime.
Love you all.
XOXO

Paris cannot let me go

Or is it the other way around?

Sorry for my absence...I have been lazing about Marie's apartment til the late afternoon practically every day. When I finally get out of the house it is suddenly the night. We joke that when I return home and people ask me what Paris was like I will respond with: "Dark".

The past couple of days I spent wandering around, getting lost, eating nutella and banana crepes, and peering into shop windows, salivating.

So I must share with you the cheesiest pickup line yet:

French Guy ¨Where are you from?¨

Me ¨Florida¨

FG ¨Did you bring Mickey with you?¨

Me ¨Au Revoir!¨

Obama is a well liked guy here and definitely a popular conversation topic. Several people have asked me what I think about him. Then they follow up with a reminder of how much they hated Bush. A dessert shop owner actually put on his 'Obama/Biden' pin when he found out I was American. He was very endearing as he informed his other customers that I was American. My new friend Jean Louis.

I am really enjoying Paris and the people are very nice. Decided to stay til Friday when I head to Switzerland.

by the way

forgot to mention that i saw irvine welsch, author of trainspotting, in a bar in galway. pretty cool stuff; very intense looking tall and bald.

The City of Class

So here I am in Paris with quite a cold sadly. Thankfully I am out of the hostels and now staying with my friend marie. She is keeping me full of fluids with lots of tea. Need to lay low today as I am being dragged out tonight. Guess we are going to a private after party for the lead singer of audioslave. we have couple free tix to his solo show but we are not really into his stuff.

The Parisians are so effortlessly chic. Even the children have quite a presence. They have such an inborn style. Anyway thats all I can say about it at the moment. Get back to you after I get over this snottyness. Wish me luck. Off for some chicken soup.

Ayayay

To Paris I go and boy am I excited:

Goodbye to you dear hostels,
Goodbye to sharing restrooms,
Goodbye to showering with flip flops on,
Goodbye to sleeping with a feet stench (this time not my own!)
Goodbye to broken ovens,
Goodbye to feeling like the new kid at school,
Goodbye to Ireland.

Falling in Love with Galway

So in usual Holly fashion I have managed to leave my camera charger in New York. Lovely. So these pics will be the last for a bit until I am in possession of the charger again.

At least I was able to grab a few. Although they are not too touristy or sceneic. They are basically you looking at me having craic (Irish for fun; pronounced "crack".

Galway is thus far my favorite part of Ireland. This is what I came here for. Traditional music, congregation of young and old, and medieval architecture.

An Irish pal of mine informed me that Galway was nicknamed the "Cemetary of Ambition". Musicians and artists move here to further their careers, have too much fun, and end up living and dying here. I can see why. I myself am having trouble leaving. So far I have extended my stay here two nights.

Shout out to Carrie and Ahjay "CONGRATULATIONS!!" I am so happy for you two. So psyched to be attending a wedding as opposed to working one. Cannot wait. XOXO

Walking Like a Zombie in Dublin

So I arrived this morning after taking a red eye to Dublin. I got zero sleep on the plane as the seat was so narrow and uncomfortable. Since my bed is unavailable until 2:30pm I have spent the entire day straining to keep my eyes open. The day has consisted of me walking aimlessly around.

Not sure if it is my sever jet lag or what but Dublin is not exactly what I had expected. The people have been splendid and I think I made some friends at an adorable hole in the wall Irish cafe. The owner/cook, Brenden, gave me some good advice. I am his daughter's age and she is currently in Florida so we had a nice conversation about that. So the people have been super friendly BUT I must say this place is pretty dirty. I had a cleaner, greener Dublin in my mind.

The weather however is phenomenal thus far. Its warmer here than in Manhattan. I think I will be better able to assess the city after I have taken a nap, but for now I think I am viewing it through pessimistic, weary eyes.

I may even try to go to Galway sooner and stay there a bit longer. Every Irishmen I have asked about Galway has said raived about how musical and gorgeous it is. When I asked my Irish buddy in Manhattan about Dublin he said, "Dublin's a shithole." I am not sure I would go that far but it certainly is not the heaven I had built it up to be. Guess I got carried away by the Irish accent assuming that all Irish came from green fields.

I will soon post some photos...after I take some.

Goodbye lovely St. Pete

Trashy she may be. Despite her faults there is much beauty in quaint St. Petersburg, FL. She will always be my home base through all of my adventures and shenanigans. I keep her close to my heart. I get the feeling I am a "big fish in a little pond" until those bigger fish come along and swallow me whole. I am sure to meet bigger fish than me in Europe.

All in all I am super psyched about my trip! No matter how scary travelling on a one way ticket may seem none of it compares to the terrors and unknowns of adulthood. We gotta keep treckin' on. For us Saggitarians that probably entails a lot of gypsy style travelling. So here goes.....

Shout out to my homies in 33701 woo woo!

Stay tuned for more love thy passport posts. Don't worry mom and dad, I won't be posting too many scandilous photographs. Wouldn't want to tarnish my stellar repuation.