Road Trip It.

Get in the car and drive South.

Expletives yelled at French rental car companies: Too many to count

Threats made to have entire staff of Auto Europe fired: 2

Pee stops: Also too many to count

Squat toilets peed in: 2

Baguettes eaten: 2

Blocks of cheese consumed: Again, too many to count

Vom stops: only 1

Wallets left on the roof of the car and lost into the French abyss: 1 (BAD, VERY VERY BAD)

Days spent road tripping through France: 2 (very long)

So we've made it South and to the sun: land of saggy, old, leather looking French boobs and men in banana hammocks-many too small for their, er, bananas and other extraneous parts. Have spent the day splashing in the waves of the Med, oggling expensive sailboats, eating fromage, drinking a lovely concoction of beer and lemonade called Panache (MUST remember for future drinking events) and getting completely sunburned.

Off for a lovely bottle of pink wine and sun burn damage control (extra wine, of course...and more fromage)

Like I said. End up in Paris.

Well, a little earlier than expected but we have indeed ended up in Paris, home of the wine swilling, gendarme roller blade wearing (please see picture and pee your pants laughing-those are indeed Gendarmes not only on a Segway but yes, on roller blades), baguette munching Parisians. Ahh, Paris. Well thanks to those bloody Frenchies and their silly strike (it was a train strike this time, big surprise, eh? Silly Frenchies can't stand the thought of retiring at 62 instead of 60, o mon dieu! Soixante ans? Non!) we ended up in Paris NOT Nice, which coincidentally, we here is very nice (har, har) We spent a lovely night, well, swilling wine and now we head to Nice (which is nice) in a very small auto. We have packed our baguette, un peu de frommage and we shall see where we end up from here...8 hours to Nice...

When in Amsterdam...

RENT BIKES...ride them for a few minutes and then return them. As scenic and romantic as it seems (and oh it is on the canals!) riding in Amsterdam traffic, contending with bicyclists, motorists, scooter, er, ers, and pedestrians is downright terrifying. Try doing it with a few delicious beers in you. Now go, return them.

EAT FRITES!!...in a cone of course. That's it. End of story. Do it.

AVOID...Starbucks (as I write I'm staring at two VERY American looking American chickies sucking down their grande lattes right now, damn it, and they're wearing Lulu Lemon leggings...at the Flying Pig-another to be avoided maybe once ultra hip hostel now overun by cheezoids seeking an Amsterdam thrill at a what they think is an uber hip hostel), McDonalds (even though they are super cool and look like they were designed by some Swedish interior designer) and any other super boring place that can be found at home. Just eat frites in a cone and all will be ok.

Amsterdam was lovely, even if I did spend most of the time shooting down narrow roads at alarming speeds on a bright orange bicycle hoping to avoid any and all collision. I got my frites, and er, some other delicious things and now we're OFF!

But where to...?

When in doubt find a willing partner, fly to Amsterdam. GO

Lucky girl that I am, I have a very willing partner in crime and travel buddy...

Positively vile Irish breaky sandwich in Dublin complete with Irish snossage, ham and bacon and then completely ruined by a healthy smear of ketchup. Vile.

Amsterdam next...

How to #1

Travel extensively. Always end up in Paris.

How to be a Dilettante

A dilettante: a dabbler, a lover of all things pleasurable.

Dalliances of a dilettante: the flirtations and brief encounters of said dilettante.

This is how it's done.