my life is one big stroopwafel

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Originally uploaded by Lady Rachem

Alright alright alright alright. I have been in the Netherlands for well over a week, so no more excuses. Let's get down to business.

First of all, I live in the highest tower with two giant windows, and the moat circles below. You know what else circles below? Geese. Very rambunctious, horny geese. Every moment of every day I hear "AFLACK! AFLACK!" or whatever the hell geese say. I also hear church bells. So very many church bells. They sound every hour, at least, and then also at crazy times, like 15 past. Anh says that the crazy-bells mean that someone has died. If this is true, the bodies must really be piling up in Well.

So anyway, our room. It is circular, and it is the only one on the floor, which means we have our own bathroom and phone. Most people think it was the servants' quarters, and if this is true, I think the servants had it pretty good. Better than I do, maybe, because I have a feeling that none of the servants had to sleep on bunk beds. Specifically, the top bunk. I will do my best not to be a complainer, so I will just say that sleeping on the top bunk is not so bad, except for every morning, when I slip on the railings and crash to the floor and wake Ashley up and bruise my shins. Otherwise it is great.

The money here is so crazy. It is different colors and sizes, and it kinda resembles Monopoly money. I am a little confounded by the fact that the smallest paper bill is 5 euros, which is approximately 7 U.S. dollars, and then all smaller amounts are coins. Due to being in this "godless country" (to quote a certain friend's conservative mother), my first question was, well what about the strip clubs? How do you tip the uh, performers? 7 dollars is way to big a tip. What are these patrons to do? I don't think you can just start tossing coins into the girl's cleavage. She is not a vending machine. Naturally, I have come up with a terrific solution: all strip clubs need to have wishing wells next to the stage. Plunk plunk! Great job sweetie! Ploop! Looking good!

Speaking of strip clubs, Megan and I went to Rotterdam last weekend. Rotterdam, you are so sleazy! You make us a little sad, but we still love you, like a slutty older sister. But please keep your creepy old men away from me, and clean that spit off of your sidewalks.

I didn't take any pictures in Rotterdam, whoops. I just can't walk around with a camera. It is too embarrassing, and also I would probably trip and fall on my face. Into the spit. I am going to Amsterdam this weekend, so maybe I will force myself to take some pictures already. My pictures are so juvenile, though. When I browse through them, I get confused and wonder if a six-year-old stole my camera and took a bunch of unfocused pictures of ducks. But then I remember, oh yeah, that was me. Oh well, at least I will never regret not going into photography.

So, that is all for now. I don't feel like writing about my classes because I am not sure how I feel about them yet. And I don't feel like writing about my drunk-scapades because my grandma reads this. But rest assured I am being generally good. And that I have felt the financial sting of having to pay for my own alcohol. To keep from burning through my savings, though, I've decided to save drinking for very special occasions. Such as "evenings." Ha ha ha! Okay okay, I'm going.

Ridiculously,
Rachem