"Blogging isn't journalism, it's graffiti with punctuation."

>my body is a boat

>last night, edmundo popped a helmut on my head and zoomed me on the back of his vespa from the spanish steps back to my hotel. i squealed as the night whizzed by my ears in an italian whoosh.

today, i ran into pascal (the trevi fountain playa) whose hotel just happened to be on the same street as mine. he had rented a vespa scooter and offered me the opportunity to see roma from the viewpoint of chasing the horizon, of crossing the dotted lines, of blurring the trees.

at first, i was petrified, the cobblestoned streets precarious. at any moment their instability threatened to launch us midair into a collison from worst fears. but after a while i got used to the feeling of having pavement treadmilling at breakneck speeds under my feet, of the wind blasting through my hair.

i squealed in delight.

i hooted.

i hollered.

i threw my arms up into the air like i was soaring (kinda like that crappy scene in Titanic, but with a muthafucking Estima)

we circled the Vatican, St Peter’s Basillica, the Sistine Chapel, catcalling the nuns.

we followed along the cool breezes of the Tiber river.

we found an egyptian looking pyramid, some ruins that we couldn’t identify, liitle nooks and crannies from getting ridiculously lost.

we swerved through dead ends, as the italian cops on doughnut breaks laughed at us. we waved “grazie!” to them as we whizzed back around.

we hailed by the spanish steps, stopped for a quick drink at an outdoor cafe, where the 37 degree heat threatened our sanity.

back on the vespa, getting lost on the way to campo di fiore, stopping to ask some old sicillian men drinking kirs on the steps of their businesses. we increased our speeds, tempting fate, laughing like the day couldn’t stop us.

i’ve never had so much fun. it’s the only way to see the roma, the roma the tourists never get to see.

tonight, i almost lost my head.

almost lost my way.

but couldn’t do it.

i’m not that kind of girl.

i leave for paris tomorrow. i’ll arrive the morning of the 21st.

joe is busing it from croatia to venice, and then flying from venice to paris. he’ll arrive on the 22nd.

don’t expect any updates for a while.

i’m his kind of girl.

i’ll be back in toronto on the 26th. photos to come soon, a promise is a promise.

after 8 weeks of spastic emotions, countless countries, priceless experiences, i don’t know where to begin.

so i’ll just say what i said last year:

my body has been a boat, and you have been travelling in me.

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