Writer. Editor. Explorer. Creator.

Author: KKRegan (Page 1 of 5)

Preconceived Notions: Geelong, Australia

Preconceived Notions is a feature I do before traveling to a new place. I think it will be interesting to see how my impressions of a place change once I get to know it. Disclaimer: the whole point of this exercise is to expose my ignorance, please don’t @ me telling me how wrong I am. That is the point. Thank you.

The very first house sit I set up when I conceived of this mission was to take place in Australia. More than six months prior, I agreed to head down under to take care of two Russian Blue kitties just outside of Melbourne.

I’d been to Australia before, but while I was studying abroad I never made it down to Melbourne, let alone to the Melbourne suburbs. As it is a very large country, I think it is fair enough to not expect to know what one area is like having experienced a few others.

Before arriving to my house sit in Geelong, I was honestly not expecting anything too extraordinary. When I first arrived in Australia in 2004, my immediate impression on the shuttle from the airport to our dorms was, “Ah, it’s like if Canada and Florida had a baby.”

Unlike that journey, this trip will not be in the tropics. Geelong is a large suburb outside of Melbourne, so I was imagining a pretty normal place, maybe even painfully so, such as Highlands Ranch (Colorado), or Stamford (Connecticut), or Quincy (Massachusetts), etc.

Kangaroo
Obviously, I’d see a lot of these bad boys

Having done this flight before, one thing I was really dreading was the exceptionally long journey across the Pacific. When I flew from L.A. to Sydney in 2004, I didn’t have the best time. I am not the best sleeper even in the coziest of circumstances, so sleeping on a plane certainly doesn’t come easily. For the flight, I decided to take a bunch of NyQuil, have a couple of glasses of wine and pass out.

NyQuil, it turns out, is for babies, and was not at all strong enough to take me down. So, instead of sleeping, at all, I was awake the whole flight but was really, really exhausted the whole time. It was torture. After learning this lesson on the way there, I resigned to stay up the full 15 hours on the way back, and it was much better.

Going into this house sit, I basically was just imagining super friendly people, tasty, slightly weird food (Tim Tams PLEASE), döner kebabs for me to munch on, inexpensive shopping, etc.

Since I wasn’t able to come to this part of the country during my last trip down under, I intended to go see the Great Ocean Road (did I make it?! Only those who don’t follow my social media don’t know). I was also planning to take a couple of train rides into Melbourne proper and explore the city. I also thought I would ideally take advantage of the lack of language barrier and do some more comedy. All in all, I expected to meet some more folks, chill out, and get some writing done.

Stay tuned to see if my expectations were spot on.

August in Brooklyn

A perfect three-week August house sit in Brooklyn

Lower East Side View

This view is not actually from Brooklyn, but IS from my friends’ apartment on the Lower East Side

Originally, my plan was to leave August mostly free. I figured I might like the time to bop around and see friends and family and just bask in my freedom. As my France house sit drew to a close, however, I began to realize that not having a home base would actually feel like the opposite of freedom.

It turns out when I’m not in a place I can call my own (even temporarily), I feel unseated. Wherever I am staying, regardless of how welcoming and accommodating the hosts are, I feel a little out of place, like I’m stepping on toes and have to make myself smaller than I am. I also tend to spend way more money, which is likely a combination of not having free reign of a kitchen in which to cook my own food, and being in proximity to people who I want to catch up and socialize with, which often involves going out and spending money on drinks, food, or transport.

Cat on desk

Getting help with my work…

So, come the end of July, I started looking for an August house sit and I found this wonderful opportunity in Brooklyn. Brooklyn was perfect because it had me close to home, which was my intent anyway for that period, but I would still maintain my own space. It also so happened to be for the perfect amount of time, leaving me a few days buffer at my mom’s in Connecticut on either side.

The Neighborhood

Having grown up in what is technically a New York City suburb, I’m familiar with the city, I have friends in the city, I’m fairly comfortable there. Having never lived there myself, however, means I don’t really KNOW the city. I don’t know the ins and outs of the neighborhoods or all the little spots to go. For the past decade plus, usually when in the city, I would be with a pal who lived there so they would take the reins and I would just follow along.

Clinton Hill Brooklyn

Beautiful church in the neighborhood

This meant that I when I read, “Clinton Hill, Brooklyn” I didn’t really know what the neighborhood was about. The ladies wanted me to stop by before they left so they could give me the keys, show me around, and ultimately meet the stranger who was about to stay in their home. The Saturday before the sit, I was in the Bronx for a very long, crazy day that revolved around a Yankees game. As we waited for the night game to start, I hopped on the subway and headed down to Brooklyn to rendezvous with one of the homeowners.

When I got off the stop in Clinton Hill, my eyes went wide. This neighborhood was BEAUTIFUL. Impeccable brownstones, tree-lined streets, it was seriously gorgeous. Let’s be clear that as it stands I couldn’t afford an apartment anywhere in the five boroughs at this juncture, but this neighborhood would likely be beyond my reach even if I had a full-time job in my field with an NYC salary.

Impressions

Bodega Breakfast Sandwich

A bodega breakfast sandwich will cure any overhangs…

The first few days of my sit, I was really digging city life. I just love being able to walk out my door and access the things I need. From the beginning, I was struggling with how expensive everything was, however. I know New York has a reputation for being expensive, but it’s always been my experience that the inexpensive food and drink establishments are discoverable. This time was different. Every beer I encountered cost $5 and over (usually more like $8-10), and every meal was between $12 and $20 (bodega breakfast sandwiches notwithstanding).

One of my favorite things about being in a large city, however, is that there are endless routes for walking. I love the diversity of the people. I love that there’s always something going on. These things all energized me on the daily.

Prospect Park Bandshell

Concerts at the Prospect Park Bandshell include sweet light art

I have noticed in recent years that I’ve become very neighborhood loyal. This was true in Denver, and it continues to be true in the new cities I sample. I may thrive on travel on a large scale, but I hate leaving my neighborhood. Despite the ease of getting around in New York, I found myself more likely to stick in my hood than to travel far distances.

At the end of the day, it was great to be in this beautiful apartment in this wonderful neighborhood with these super cuddly kitties. I also really appreciated the opportunity to catch up with some local pals. By the end, however, I was definitely fatigued by all the money I was spending. My productivity suffered a little as I finally started earning money but let my passion projects fall to the wayside in the struggle to balance my priorities (this continues to be true as I post a blog post about my August house sit in November…). I’m sure the gorgeous TV setup with the access to Netflix and Hulu didn’t help on that front either…  

Missing Photos

Brooklyn Masonic Temple

Brooklyn Masonic Temple

Most of the photos I ended up taking while in Brooklyn were of the cats. I did get a few nice photos while walking around, but I always tried to do this on the sly. Since I grew up near New York, I have this weird, internalized fear of appearing like a tourist. This makes me hesitant to stop in the streets and take photos, even though there are a lot of really beautiful streets and brownstones and lovely, lovely sights. Because of this handicap, I’m missing out on some good shots (and by extension, so are you). It’s so funny the weird things that are ingrained in us.

Friend-Crushes

Most of the time, the days that I overlap with the hosts can be a little awkward. It’s always slightly uncomfortable to be taking up space in someone else’s home, and this feeling is amplified when you don’t know the people. This time, we didn’t have any overlap, but I did find myself wishing I had the opportunity to get to know these ladies a little better. I was immediately drawn to the books and DVDs they had around the apartment (hello, they had “Troll 2” on DVD!), plus I can definitely relate to grown women with multiple video game systems. I definitely left this house sit with two substantial friend-crushes.

All in all, this was a lovely sit in a lovely neighborhood, even if my wallet wasn’t quite as happy about it as I was.

Cat Tummy

Six Weeks in Southeastern France

I spent six weeks in the foothills of the French Alps and it wasn’t long enough.

French Countryside

My daily view

This house sit is one for the record books. Don’t let the months that have elapsed since I was there tone down my enthusiasm at all. This place was beautiful. It was peaceful. It was conducive to productivity. I could have stayed there for a very long time.

On an evening in late June, I landed at the Geneva airport. I was instructed to meet my hosts in the jazz club as soon as I exited the airport. Jazz club. Airport. Sure.

French Countryside

From the backyard

The first sign that this was a different place was that they were right. There was a jazz club, in the airport, with actual live jazz music. People were there. Listening to jazz. Okay, Switzerland, you got me.

At first glance, my hosts were very lovely and very British. I was pleased immediately. We drove the hour or so to their home in France and chatted the whole way. As we drove through the hills and little towns, I stared agape at my surroundings. I couldn’t get over the beauty and the quaintness. Everything was SO quaint. The hills were rolling. Everything was green and perfect and out of some sort of fictional tale. I couldn’t believe it. As we went on, the sights just got better and better.

France Abandoned Bathtub

When we pulled into the house, it was dusk. We were surrounded by mountains and hills. Vast fields dotted with a few homes stretched in each direction. I couldn’t believe it. I was going to be waking up to this for over a month? Pinch me now.

This was a wonderful place for me to be. Despite the relative seclusion and loneliness (I really don’t speak French beyond being able to order some things while really butchering the accent), I could have stayed for a much longer. While there, I got into a real groove with my productivity and writing. They had so many places to sit and write, read, or think. There were multiple outdoor tables, patios, and indoor tables with beautiful views.

Digital Nomad Workspace

Something I have encountered a lot of, and I don’t quite understand, is people who have outdoor spaces, but nowhere to sit in them. I simply cannot comprehend such things. I’ve also learned that I am far more productive when I’m in natural light, either actually outside or near a large window.

This is a part of France that I might never have thought to come and see. There weren’t many tourists. Perhaps partly because of this, I highly recommend it. It was such an authentic, beautiful place; the picturesque, French countryside. Read on for some specifics.

Little Town

Lescheraines France

The walk into town

I’m pretty sure this place is exactly what Belle was singing about. Little town, it’s a quiet village. Every day like the one before! The little town of Lescheraines only had the things it needed. There was the boulangerie (bakery) which made the most amazing croissants and pastries. It may come as no surprise, but baked goods in France are really no joke. They had a butcher, a small grocery shop, a cheese shop, a couple of boutiques, two restaurants, one ATM, and that’s it. A short walk away was the little swimming lake/beach which also had a restaurant.

Le plan d eau

The swimming lake

Siesta time kept getting in my way because I would wake up and immediately start productivity. By the time I was ready to head into town for lunch or supplies, it would be 1-2pm and shops closed from like 12-3pm. Essentially, they were trying to starve me. It was a challenge.

Driving Stick

Plan d eau lescheraines

The homeowners had quite generously left me a car. Of course, it being Europe, the car had a standard transmission. I had not driven a stick car for probably over 10 years, and I hadn’t even fully gotten the hang of it back then. I watched some YouTube videos to remind myself how and took to the cul-de-sac to practice. The problem with this, though, was that as I did this (not very well), every single time at least one neighbor would come out and just stare me down. This made me incredibly self-conscious, as I was stalling a bit, and I had no real way to explain to them what I was doing. I couldn’t really get off our road until I was comfortable because there was no way to avoid hills in any direction. Eventually, I gave up on the idea of being able to drive anywhere and I stuck to moving around by foot or by bike. This is fine because it was good for my health and also stopped me from trying to do too much, so I was able to really dig into my surroundings.

Night of 1,000 Spiders

spider killer

Modern Weaponry

My first night there was action-packed. After arriving, and having dinner, and not being able to wipe the wide-eyed smile off my face, I retired to the little in-law apartment on their ground floor. At about 2 am, I woke up to use the bathroom. When I came back, I noticed a spider. Then another. Then another. Then another. They were EVERYWHERE. I usually try not to kill spiders if they are just chilling… But, the sheer amount of these guys meant that the mathematical probability was that at least ONE would crawl into my bed while sleeping. I couldn’t have it. I pulled my bed away from the wall and sat there for ages not knowing what to do. How could I reach them? The ceilings were high. I didn’t yet know where any cleaning supplies, or really anything, was. They were everywhere. I was awake for hours, sitting in the middle of the bed just looking at all of them. Finally, I found a broom and put my Birkenstock on the end of it and went to town on them. I killed 8 before dawn. One or two got away but I was able to get them in the bathroom in the morning. For the rest of the trip, I was more or less able to keep them at bay due to some hefty poison and vigilance.

The Animals

Kitty roll

Miss Mimi

The stars of this show were the three hens. The homeowners affectionately call them “The Girls,” and would even sign off on emails saying “from, HO1, HO2, and ‘The Girls’,” no joke. This house sit consisted of two separate trips for the homeowners, and during the first trip, one of The Girls, Brunhilde (is there a better chicken name? I dare you to find one), started losing her feathers. This put me into a bit of a panic because I didn’t want it to seem like I was neglecting her in any way. During these days it was pretty hot, but I always made sure they had plenty of water scattered all over the yard. I also kept an eye on the other chickens to see if maybe she was being bullied, but I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. By the time they came back the first time, she was on the upswing again and was fine for the remainder of my stay. I guess she was just going through her own thing.

three hens

Brunhilda, Samantha, and Portia

The Girls were hilarious because the three of them would walk around like gossipy little old ladies. The 2-3 eggs I got a day were amazing. Fresh eggs for breakfast, egg salad, french toast, you name it. They had a bit of mischief in them, too. One of the things the husband asked of me before they left was to water the lettuce patch, as he had some really nice young lettuces in there. Well, every time I turned my back, those ladies were in the lettuce patch and I’m sad to say, the lettuce did not make it. I tried to put up barricades and everything but nothing worked.

Cat cuddles

Morning cuddles with Mimi

They also had a mostly outdoor cat named Mimi. Mimi was super adorable, and every morning we would have a very serious cuddle. She would get so excited about these cuddles, she would drool and it was ADORABLE. The best thing about Mimi is that since she was mostly an outdoor cat, she didn’t touch her litter box, which meant I didn’t have to either. She was super easy to care for because of this and I just made sure she was filled up on dry and wet food and water. Oh, and I couldn’t forget the cat milk. That’s right, people. Cat milk. The main question that ran through my mind every time I poured her some cat milk was, “But who milks the cats?!”

Cat Milk

Cat Milk!?

An Unwanted Guest

There were a few cats in the neighborhood that would come calling from time to time. One of these was a little grey kitten from across the way. He was full of mischief, always trying to hunt the chickens who were easily double his size.

One night, I was sitting and watching something on Netflix. It was storming outside, which was wonderful. All of a sudden, I heard a commotion outside. I know that the first rule of any horror movie is not to open the door when you hear a commotion in the night. However, I was there looking after some animals and what if Mimi had gotten herself into trouble or something? As I went over to open the door, there was more commotion and I could see the silhouette of a cat climbing the door through the frosted glass.

I was thinking that maybe there was a fox or some other predator out there, or who knows what. So, I opened the door and it was the kitten from across the street. He jumped off the door and ran off. I figured that was about it and I went back inside. As I closed the door, however, I looked up and saw this:

furry intruder

Uh oh!

This little squirrel, or sugar glider, or whatever it was, had clearly run up the door to evade the kitten, and now he was stuck in my little apartment. While he was super cute, I had no interest in getting my mitts near his little teefies. I was in a pickle.

I stood around and laughed for a while, but eventually had to make my move. I turned off the lights inside (bugs) and opened the door. I had to chase off the grey kitten who was still lingering. I, then, got the broom and gently encouraged the little fella out the door, which you can sort of see in the videos below. Eventually, he made it and bounded off into the night. It was a very silly predicament.

Meeting People

Cows

“Les Boeufs”

For the most part, this was a pretty solitary stop. As I do not speak French, meeting people was pretty challenging. I can be decent at reading it, but I cannot pronounce that language for anything. The neighbor was super friendly and would come over to check in every now and then. If she caught me without my phone for translating, our communications would be pretty hilarious. One day, the farmer up behind us let his herd of cattle come flooding down to the fields right by our houses. When the neighbor came over, I wanted to explain why the chickens had to remain in their run. I did not know the word for “cow” but I did know the word for “beef,” so I essentially said, “The beefs! The beefs!” over and over while gesturing. She politely corrected me.

2018 World Cup Final

Watching the World Cup Final

Toward the end of my stay, France ended up in the World Cup final. I was excited by this. I also am convinced that I have great World Cup luck. Spain won while I was there, and now France. Just in case people want to sponsor my travels each World Cup season. Anyway, I biked over to the slightly larger neighboring village to go to a pub and catch the game. Everything was pretty tame. Surprisingly tame. In fact, I missed the first goal because nobody made a peep.

I kept catching what I thought were snippets of English from a neighboring table. Eventually one of the men came up to the bar and I asked him, “Do I hear you guys speaking English?” and he was like, “We sure do! We’re Scottish! Come sit with us.” And friendships were made. They were two couples, one of which has a vacation home in the area. I very quickly became betrothed to one of their sons (unbeknownst to him). We had a good time, AND I made plans with one of the women to attend the American Party with her the following weekend. I ended up staying later than intended because I was having fun finally socializing. This meant that getting home involved barrelling down the pitch black hilly road on my bike. Luckily I had my headlamp.

Headlamp Nerd

Ready to ride!

American PartyAmerican Bauges

One trip to the boulangerie, I saw this sign for a USA-themed party. Line dancing! Cars! Trucks! Teepees! Hamburgers! Hot Dogs! This is basically the equivalent of us throwing a French party with striped shirts, berets, neckerchiefs, and baguettes back home. I couldn’t WAIT to see the USA portrayed in whatever lens this was.

Teepee

I made plans to meet Scottish Christine and her future daughter-in-law for some good craic. As we walked in, the first thing I saw and heard was a few people outfitted in Native American garb, dancing a Native American dance. I cannot speak to the accuracy of any of this, but I can only hope they did their research or perhaps that at least some of them had native ancestry. The Scots were amused and surprised at how uncomfortable all this made me. I had to tell them that this sort of thing would not fly back home in the present day. However uncomfortable I was with my white guilt, I suppose it was cool that the native population was at all represented when people from France thought of the United States.

You know when you go to a festival and you need to buy tickets in order to get food or beverage? Well, here you bought American Dollars that you then used to “pay” for beer, wine, and food. I got a huge kick out of this.

American Dollars

American Dollars!

They had booths selling all kinds of wares: handmade leather goods, lots of denim and biker gear, cheesy wolf and eagle t-shirts, 50’s retro kitsch, flags, etc. The confederate flag was pretty present and I had to explain its history to the Scottish ladies, who upon hearing what it symbolizes exclaimed, “I can’t even believe it’s legal to fly that flag!” Ya know, me neither ladies.

Tricycle

There were teepees, face painting, cars, trucks. At one point, the Scottish ladies stood next to a Dodge Ram expressing disbelief, “Do people really drive trucks this big? WHY? Why do they need to?” Not really sure, ladies.

Overall, it was a super fun day. I ended up staying past dark again and barreling down pitch black foothill roads on my bike. Must be the Scottish influence.

Quaint French Towns

Annecy

Annecy

During my time here, I had an opportunity to visit many of the surrounding towns (Annecy, Chambery, Aix les Bains). The verdict: they are ALL quaint AF. They all had little medieval town centers with winding streets and surprise nooks and canals. Annecy has a big, beautiful, impossibly blue lake that I regret not going back and swimming in. I tried some bakeries around the area but none were as good as our little small town bakery in Lescheraines. At this point, I’m convinced that it is a prerequisite to be quaint as hell if you want to be a little town in France. I’m looking forward to performing more research on this hypothesis.

 

Things I’ll miss: Fresh eggs daily, beautiful vistas, fresh air, the boulangerie, quiet country living, cat drool

Things I won’t miss: consistent buzzing, always being on the lookout for spiders, bug corpses, everything “bug”, chicken poop, relative immobility, siesta time (So what if I want to eat lunch after 1p? Ohh, you’re going to starve me at LEAST until 5… maybe even 7? Great!)

Lake Annecy

Lake Annecy

Milan and a Peek at Turin

Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II

My camera did not go hungry over a few days in Milan

Hello my rabid fans, I am back! I know it’s been a while, but I’ve had a month of travel and location changes, in addition to trying to balance paid work with personal work (this is why I need to be independently wealthy, people). I’ve got a lot to catch you up on, so here we go!

As I mentioned in a previous post, in the middle of my France house sit, the homeowners were home for a week and encouraged me to take advantage of this time and take a trip. Due to proximity and my Italy virginity, I chose Milan.

France to Italy

The bus ride to Italy was super ugly

At first, I was going to do 4 days in Milan and 2 in Turin. Since I had to go through Turin on the way to Milan, it made sense to spend some time there as well. As soon as I booked my train tickets, though, I felt a little buyer’s remorse. I was going for too long, I was planning to spend too much money. I immediately starting rethinking some of the things I had already booked (lodging, transport, etc.). Some things are better not to book in advance, kids.

Since I am attempting to sum up 1.5 Italian cities in one post, I’ve decided to break it down into easy to digest sections. Find what interests you and enjoy!

Drinks and Fun

Aperitivo Aperitif

Aperol spritz and my free dinner!

Aperitivo, or Aperitif for you English speakers: One of my top favorite things about Milan is definitely the aperitif. This consists of a beverage, usually an Aperol or Campari-based drink. Upon ordering a drink, most places have a complimentary food offering that comes with. The quality of this varies from place to place. Sometimes they are just small things like olives and nuts, other times they are little cuts of pizza and bruschetta. At the better places, one could even make a meal out of it, as I did several times. Delicious AND cost-effective.

Bar Basso Negroni Sbagliato

My Negroni Sbagliato at Bar Basso

Bar Basso Peach Drink

I don’t remember what this frothy, peachy beauty was called, but hot damn!

Bar Basso: My first night, I went to Bar Basso, a place well-known for aperitivos. Toward the end of my first Negroni Sbagliato, it began to rain. Hard. I went inside and stood by the bar to finish my drink and wait out the rain. Well, wouldn’t you know that standing by the bar meant I could watch the bartenders do their work. They kept making this drink that involved putting whole peaches and Campari into a juicer and then topping the “juice” with Spumante. F my face. After you see a couple of these come out, you just need to try one. The rain was the excuse I needed. It was so frothy and delicious. Yum.

L’Ecurie: One night, I searched out karaoke, as that is a great way to start a conversation, especially when you have the cojones to do it by yourself. There were a couple of places in this one area of town, and I chose this one based on reviews. I was shocked to find out how pricey the drinks were (10 Euros for a beer or a drink), but eventually eased into it. After singing my first song, I met some ladies who were U.S. Army soldiers and wives stationed in Germany. We hung out all night and had very similar tastes in karaoke songs (Zombie, anyone?). It was a lot of fun. I will say that the KJ (Karaoke Jockey, keep up) was great in the beginning, but as the night wore on started ignoring certain people for others, which is what made us eventually close up and leave.

Meals

I’m kind of embarrassed to admit that I didn’t do the best job of hunting down amazing meals in Milan. My first time in Italy, and I botched it. I know. I know. Shame.

ristorante alba d'oro

This was not great going in OR coming out, sadly

Ristorante Alba d’Oro: After my first foray into aperitivos, I went off to Ristorante Alba d’Oro because it had good reviews, but those reviews did not match my experience. The waiter was lovely and incredibly friendly and accommodating. The food, however, was not. I ordered the black gnocchi (squid ink) special and it was pretty awful. Mushy. Non-descript. Bleh. AND it ended up making me sick later (which, believe you me, really amped up my hostel experience). Maybe I just ordered the wrong thing, who knows.

ravioleria sarpi

Delicious dumplings

Ravioleria Sarpi: I had read that Milan surprisingly had a pretty good Chinatown. Naturally, I had to go and try the dumplings at Ravioleria Sarpi, as I had read much about them. They had a little window on the street where I was able to order very affordable and tasty dumplings. After sitting on a stoop and chowing down, I went across the way to a wine bar, and drank a glass of wine on the street surrounded by bar goers.

Ratana Milan Menu

Ratana: I had read a bunch about Ratana, so I made a reservation so I could make sure to get my one fancy meal. This place was lovely, but I made a mistake in my ordering. Instead of going with whatever looked best to me on the menu (which was the risotto special, btw), I went with the saffron risotto and ossobuco because I had read on the internet that it was the quintessential thing to get here. Ends up that I spent way too much money, and I probably would have liked what I got more, and spent less money, if I had followed my own heart and not some internet person’s. What I got was quite good, but not $50 good. Lessons, folks!

Ratana Milan Ossobuco

Ossobuco and saffron risotto at Ratana

I feel like I kept missing out on the tasty spots to eat because so many trattorias were only open for lunch. I’m generally not ready for my big meal at lunch, especially if I am a tourist and am running around town (everyone knows this is kebab time). So, sadly, I kinda failed on the food front in Italy. Next time, I will be better.

Lodging

Koala Hostel: Don’t do it. Before leaving France, I had booked four nights at the Koala Hostel, which was conveniently walkable from Central Station. Upon arriving, I noticed quite quickly the lack of air conditioning in the lobby. See, the reason I booked this hostel at all was because Booking.com said they had AC. I thought maybe this was just the lobby and that the room would have it, but was disappointed when I got there to find a balmy room. I thought, ah well, maybe it won’t be so bad. I was wrong.

Unicredit Tower Milan

Unicredit Tower

That evening, I had one of the worst night’s sleep on record. I was on a top bunk in the corner. The room was stifling, despite the ceiling fan and open window. My roommates were incredibly clueless and rude. One dude’s phone started going off at 4am, playing the Rocky theme on repeat ad nauseum. Seriously, the song played on repeat for easily a half an hour. Eventually, it started up again and I just yelled “NO!” and then he made it stop. Oh, he could hear me say, “NO!” but couldn’t hear his phone blaring in his ear? Excellent.

THEN, at 7:30, his phone started going off again, but this time it was a different song. NO.

So, for anyone keeping score, I was unable to sleep due to stifling heat and impromptu phone concerts. To add to it all, apparently where I had chosen to eat dinner the night before was not the best place, so I had to get up to get sick numerous times throughout the night. It was a terrible night.

I woke up knowing I couldn’t do this for another night. At 7am, I was lying in bed searching desperately for other lodging options. I was hoping to get some or all of my money back, but even if not, being able to sleep would be worth the loss.

Bosco Verticale Milan

Bosco Verticale

I was fortunate to find a wonderful Airbnb for a good price in a convenient location, and the guy said I could come by early to drop off my luggage. I intended to at least cash in on the free breakfast before leaving the hostel, but as to be expected, it was worthless.

Of course, when I checked out, there were two people at the front desk. One was presumably the older lady that everyone had bad things to say about on the online reviews. I knew this would not bode well for my refund. I explained to the other girl at the front desk that the only reason I had booked this hostel was because it said it had AC online when it definitely did not. False advertising. Couldn’t sleep there. Could I get money back? Bla bla bla. She consulted with the older woman and it was decided that they could only refund me for one day (a whopping 17 Euro). This sucked, but I took it and went off to check into my life-saving Airbnb.

General Impressions

Milan Streets

Streets of Milan

My first impressions of Milan were definitely favorable. I liked the feel of the streets. It seemed like a friendly, open, quirky place. At times, it reminded me of the feel of Barcelona. They had full service vending machines all over town where you could get food, beverages, supplies. Pretty impressive.

I walked and walked all around, as I do. I’m not particularly fashion-minded, but I started noticing fashion everywhere. Thanks to my trip to Milan, I am now obsessed with wide-legged pants, or Palazzo pants. Unsure how that would look on my frame (beyond experiences with wide-legged skater jeans in high school, but the aesthetic I was going for was a bit different then, as was my frame), but I am digging them so hard. This reminded me that I am such a little sponge sometimes. I started dressing better when I was in Barcelona as well. What did you do to me, Denver?

Santa Maria delle Grazie

Basilica di Santa Maria delle Grazie, The Last Supper is in here, but I wasn’t allowed to see it

One day, I had walked all across town with the goal of going to see The Last Supper. I got to the little, humble-looking church where the famous painting resides, and stood in what I thought was the ticket line. Moments later, a lady came up and informed me and some others that we needed to have reserved a spot a month in advance to get in. Since I planned my trip just a few days in advance, this was sad news for me.

The Duomo was stunning and beautiful, as expected. Probably one of the more impressive cathedrals I have seen. It was so big, so ornately detailed. I spent hours exploring her in and out. I tend to really love cathedrals (and architecture, really) but this one was a bit different and I dug it.

The Duomo Milan

The Duomo

Turin Snapshot

Turin Fountain

A fountain in Turin

I ended up only spending an afternoon in Turin due to being eager to get back to my routine. My first experience between the bus and the train station made me think it wasn’t a particularly lovely city, but on my return when I had hours to walk it, I learned differently.

Turin Church

Turin is a beautiful, walkable city. It seemed more historical and had a lot of impressive old architecture. I did struggle to find decent lunch, which is a bit of a theme for me partially due to siesta time and things being closed when I am hungry. The shopping also seemed to be really great, but as I am terrible at shopping and I overpacked for this trip, I did not buy anything.

The Shroud of Turin

The Shroud of Turin is allegedly in that box

While there, I went to see the Shroud of Turin, which is allegedly the actual burial shroud of Jesus Christ. It apparently has his visage and blood stains imprinted onto it and everything. Sadly, they didn’t actually have it on display where it could be seen. It was in a glass case that was covered with a shroud of its own. Despite this, there were people legitimately crying to be in the presence of this artifact, which surprised me a bit. Apparently they only put it on display once every ten years or so. I guess it makes sense that a 2,000 year old piece of fabric would be very fragile, but maybe if they’d let me see it they would have had a convert out of me. Just saying…

Transport

Italy to France

45 minutes at the rest stop was a bit much, but the view made it better

The bus ride to Italy was easy, though we stopped at a rest stop for far too long, resulting in the bus getting in an hour and a half later than scheduled. This meant I had to run through Turin in order to catch the non-air conditioned (eek) train to Milan. Besides drowning in sweat, this ride was also relatively painless. I also had the good fortune to sit across from a gentleman wearing a T-shirt with three check boxes: Single. Taken. In the garage working on my Subaru. Guess which one was checked? Dream. Boat.

Ouibus wasn’t bad. The prices were right, but they definitely did not operate according to their timetable. Since I changed my plans to come back to France a couple of days earlier, I had to rebook my ticket. They obviously ignored my requests for a refund of the original, despite it being outside the 48 hour window. Being abroad, I wasn’t able to make the phone call so I emailed. They never responded. So, I ended up paying for two tickets in the end. Not ideal.

France to Italy Sunset

Ugliest Bus Ride Ever

We ended up getting back to France way behind schedule as well (why did we need 45 minutes at a rest stop?). This meant that the train I had to get on back to Aix les Bains wasn’t a train at all, but a night bus. Since it was after 9pm, there was no one around the train station to ask for information, so I had to rely on signage to find where this alleged bus would pick me up. Long story short, the bus pick-up was moved due to construction and I ended up missing that bus as well. My host was all set to pick me up at Aix les Bains, but ended up having to wait for hours. It was incredibly inconvenient for everyone and taught me a valuable lesson about bus travel in Europe.

Lessons Learned:

Do not book travel in advance, if necessary.

Do not count on bus travel being reliable.

Always double-check signage, don’t be afraid to ask people around.

If your hosts seem put out by your travel, even if it was their idea, skip it.

Be wary of hostels… don’t book too many nights in advance… scour those reviews.

I don’t appear as young as I think. Two separate French men greeted me on the street with “Madame” instead of “Mademoiselle.” I generally think I am sprightly as fuck, so imagine my surprise.

Order what YOU like, not what the internet tells you you should.

Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II

Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II

One Year Job Single and My First Time Doing Comedy

Bookending a Year with a Failure and a Triumph

One year ago last week, I was let go from my last full-time job, sending me on a wild whirlwind of anxiety, self-doubt, and under-employment. Exactly a year later, I did stand-up for the first time. 

Cat desk

Maybe the office cat pushing everything off my desk daily was symbolic of things to come…

Since I lost my job, a few things have happened:

  • I hit bottom enough to entirely change my approach and take some real risks (how successful this will be is still TBD)
  • I met and connected with a wonderful fella, and perhaps we wouldn’t have really seen each other had I not been on my way out the door
  • I met numerous amazing humans: at part-time jobs, in fleeting locations, humans everywhere!
  • I sold all my belongings, for better or worse!
  • I’ve been able to travel all over, experiencing different environments, cultures, and cuisines
  • A woman who used to work at that company found me on LinkedIn and told me about the emotionally-abusive revolving door that has been operating there since well before me. This is essential in letting me know I’m not alone.
    • Hot Tip: if you have left a bad work environment, please leave a review on Glassdoor. It could save people so much heartache.
    • Hot Tip: If you are applying to a job, do your homework. Find people on LinkedIn who have worked there and ask them about it. Worth the effort in spades.
  • I did stand-up comedy for the first time, after months and months of saying I would

Breakfast Sandwich

The day before I got laid off, I celebrated Sunday with a breakfast sandwich and a milkshake. Little did I know, every day was about to be Sunday.

Being let go from that job has allowed me to have many experiences that I other wise would not have had. That being said, I’m still too deep in it to say if actually working there was worth it or not. I still think back to the red flags I ignored and wonder if I might have been better off staying at the library and continuing my job hunt. However, I do know one thing, I am glad to have been away from that environment for a year. If three office cats can’t make a work environment pleasant, you know you’ve got a real problem.

The significance of being underemployed for a YEAR was not lost on me. And as I recalled the feeling of packing up my office (I guess decorating your office too soon IS a jinx), and driving away from that place— the mix of relief and fear, disappointment and elation— I was inspired to do something. Something I have been talking about for months, but hadn’t yet dug up the cojones to do.

I did stand-up comedy.

I had already looked up all the open mics in the area that were reasonable for me to attend. I had talked to a few people about it. I kept putting it off, however, because my tight 5 “wasn’t ready.” As I was sitting and reflecting on the year I’ve had, I realized:

Doing comedy is like having a baby. You’re never going to be ready.

So, I sat down with my jokes and scrambled to put them in some kind of sensical order. I knew if I didn’t at least GO to this open mic, that I never would. I wasn’t sure if I would actually go up, but I wanted to have something in my pocket just in case. At least that’s what I told myself in order to get out the door. 

I fiddled with my bits until 5:50. Yes, I fiddled with my bits. Sign-up started at 5:45, the show started at 6:00. I was pushing it, probably hoping that I’d get there and the list would be full. Or, maybe there was no hidden meaning and I’m a terrible procrastinator. Maybe a little bit of both.

When I walked in at 5:55, I greeted the hostess and put my name on the list. Didn’t even think about it. I immediately wanted to puke. I went to the bar to get a beer, which helps.

Once the comics started, I felt a lot better. This is only the second open mic I have intentionally attended, but so far, they seem very supportive. Everyone is here for the same reason. No one is expecting perfection. The thing is, I’ve been a teacher before. If you can stand up in front of a room full of 14 year olds all day, you can stand up in front of a few adults for 5 minutes.open mic

As expected, some people were really funny… and some were not. A curveball was thrown during the third comic’s act, however. A large dinner party was shown into the room. They were not there for an open mic, they were there for a post-work dinner party. Immediately, the mood of the room changed. These people were legit not even smiling. Comics were trying to do crowd work with them and they were not having it. What an excellent scenario for someone’s first foray into stand-up.

The other thing was, since I arrived just before 6, I was the last person on the list. Generally, when people were done with their sets, they would leave. By process of elimination, this meant by the time I went up I would be facing the two hosts, maybe one or two comic stragglers, and this stone-faced party of 12 who didn’t come for amateur comedy. What could go wrong?

Finally, I was the last one in the room that hadn’t gone up. The second hostess, who was not in the room when I signed up, got up and accidentally introduced me as the headliner. Oh good lord. She corrected herself, but I was thinking, “Man, I really hope these people aren’t expecting a headliner.” If anyone should have been the headliner it was the guy before me as he was probably the best guy of the night. 

So I got up, I thanked her, and I fucking did it.

And, guess what? GUESS WHAT?

I did. not. bomb. I didn’t bomb! People laughed! I got pretty consistent chuckles. Some more pronounced than others (feedback!), but it was not some deadly black hole of silence. I know this crowd was capable of that, because I saw it with TWO comics who went on before me. This green, inexperienced little wank was able to get up and elicit laughs from complete strangers.

It felt amazing, and was such an important thing for me to do on that particular day. When I told them it was my anniversary of getting laid off and not having a full-time job, they cheered. CHEERED. For ME! I left there feeling like a million bucks, like I had my own little cloud to whizz around on (like my buddy Lakitu). I now know why addicts are so often drawn to this line of work. I could definitely see chasing that high indefinitely… and I hope I do.

Cat Burrito

I didn’t really like sharing my morning burritos anyway

After I got home and called my mom and my cousin and bragged to all the people, I sat down to write some notes about the experience. At the top I wrote:

“As someone who normally doesn’t follow through on anything. Tonight felt really good.”

Last August, I was thrown into the too familiar abyss of not knowing what was next. Once again, I was left wondering, “Is there something wrong with me? In what ways am I so deficient that I keep ending up in these professionally questionable situations?” This year, as I reflected on that, I somehow mustered the cojones to do one of the bravest things I have done to date. It felt spectacular, and was much needed. Sometimes it’s incredibly important to remind yourself that you CAN. Because you totally can. I promise. 

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