It wasn’t me in Prague

Oh what an adventure it was…

The roomies and I decided to strap ourselves in and spontaneously head over to Praha, Czech Republic for a night. Well, it was a one night plan but the second night just ended up happening out of nowhere and we are still not fully taking responsibility for it. It just happened. I guess you could call it “non-stop”.

Oh, it was insane.

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A New Pair of Shoes

I wonder what it will be like the next time I get one, get a new pair.

A new pair of shoes I mean. I’ll look for such different things in it. Qualifications, you could call them. The color, for one: I’ll choose that differently. It should match everything, but it shouldn’t be bland. It should strike attention without pulling away from the rest of me. Also the laces, they should be stronger next time. Even though I tied and tied them, even trying different ways, they seemed to always open right when I didn’t want them to: while on a run or carrying far too many things at the supermarket. I don’t actually know if it had anything to do with the laces at all, maybe I wasn’t tying right, but I hope and like to think it had nothing to do with what I was doing wrong. Well they weren’t the highest quality laces anyhow. Or maybe they were. Maybe it was the combination of the two.

The bed of the shoe should be softer next time. Or maybe harder? I don’t know what is better or what was wrong really, it just wasn’t right I guess. It didn’t feel right. At times I thought it was like walking on air or a tempurapedic mattress and sometimes I thought my feet were being flung at a brick wall, no warmth, no way to make up for the speed with which I was about to hit this barrier that was the floor. So, I guess I’ll have to see which is better. Because it felt so good to almost lose myself, or my feet I guess, in the softness of the shoes but that can’t be good either can it? You need framework, a solid build, right?

I guess the most important thing is that they have a good sole. A sole that can walk through any terrain and not let my feet come to harm. A stroll through shards or splitters should resemble a walk on the beach: that would be ideal. Something where I know I am protected, where nothing can get through. Things got through with my last pair. A lot did, in fact. I wasn’t protected much. I was at first, but not in the end. I guess that’s what happens to a pair of shoes, you walk, you run, you skip and stroll and tredge through the rockiest of terrains and at some point they can’t hold up anymore. The things you were protecting yourself from and what you thought your trusted pair of shoes would never let through, suddenly does. Exactly what you thought would never be let through. And it’s not their fault. They did the best they could. I think.

I don’t know. I guess in retrospect I don’t really know shoes that well at all.

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I think if we a…

I think if we all just stopped for a moment, put down our phone, blackberry, other phone and car keys and laptop, and really thought about it for a second – without the disturbance of the bustling world – I think we would realize that Pepsi and Coca Cola really just taste the same.

Strip! Those shoes….

Ever thought about how humans are the only species that wear shoes? We don’t even just wear shoes, I mean we really wear shoes. We invest a good chunk of our lives picking them out, ordering them online at Zalando, learning how to tie them and subsequently tying them for the rest of our lives, tripping on them, putting them into our shoe closet, taking them off, cleaning them, convincing ourselves that buying a $346 pair of shoes is totally worth it in the long run(I mean I’ll wear them for years, and if I wear them every day for 5 years then that is only 19 cents per time I wear them and if I don’t have 19 cents for a pair of shoes everyday then I have much bigger problems). 

But there must be a reason no other species wear shoes, they’re definitely onto something. 

A lot of people are weird about bare feet. I am all about the barefoot. Not outside of course where I could step in some drunk college kid’s urine but in adequate and appropriate places. 

Here is a list of all places people are not allowed to judge you for being barefoot:

1. On a roadtrip –> who are we kidding, you’re not going to keep your boots on the entire ride to wherever you are going. Chances are you’re with people you know really well(and if you aren’t then what are you doing in this car? You should get out now and call your mom, maybe she can come pick you up) so they won’t judge you for your ugly feet. 

2. At the library while studying. How am I supposed to get the juices flowing if my feet are imprisoned?

3. After 3:24 AM, if you have been dancing for 4 to 5 hours straight, your dress is fabulous and your shoes are too but they also evidently have it out for your soul and want to punish you via foot torture. To be clear, bare feet once you LEAVE the club and have walked 5 to 20 meters in the opposite direction of said club. I will not take responsibility for the fact that some people think a club is a great place to take off their 8 inch heels: first of all who told you to buy those? Was it a giraffe? Or perhaps someone on stilts? Also I feel like you will contract some kind of blood or fungus disease. Stop it. Put those shoes back on, they are Noah’s Arc to you.

4. In an airplane. If I am about to spend 12 hours in this tin box with you 340 people lets get comfortable because I am about to pillage this on-board entertainment. Let’s move this relationship to the next level. 

5. When going shoe shopping. Do I really have to put my shoes on again every time I want to move over to the next table of shoes at Nordstrom? That is crazy talk.

 

Just take your shoes off whenever you feel like it. 

That time of the year rolled around again: Erlanger Bergkirchweih.

This beer guzzling phenomenon can also be referred to as the event many a teenager(and sadly or maybe not so sadly many non-teenagers) save up for all year. This magical fest is everything it is hyped up to be. Starting with the long walk through sun kissed fields carrying one or 3 crates of beer, running into too many people you know and sharing a Klopferle with them, eventually you somehow make it to the music and German “Tracht” infused party. I can’t even explain it. It is amazing. And somehow I always manage to spend exuberant amounts of money there along with every other person attending. It is amazing. That is worth repeating a hundred times.

You will lose everyone there. You won’t have service. Your phone will die. You will fall off the table you’re dancing on at least 4 times. The music will be too loud. Then the music won’t be loud enough. They will play “Summer of ’69” too often, yet never often enough. You’ll fall in love set to “Sweet Caroline”, then forget who you fell in love with and move on to the next table full of random people who are bound to be your best friends within a song and a “Cheers”. And you will drink a lot of beer.

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You’re Tan Italy, We get it

You're Tan Italy, We get it

Italy has had its woes. It has had its ups, it has had its downs. Julius Caesar, the Roman Empire, the Renaissance, Pizza! All major ups if you ask me.

Now I feel like they are going through one of their slightly “downer” phases. Decades of Berlusconi and his completely legitimate political regime have torn down the frameworks of a well functioning country to the likes of a toddler running a trigonometry course(alright that might be a bit dramatic). All despite the ever-present high sales of Gelato, they are suffering from the stagnant development or rather entirely ceased development of their economy.

I travelled to Italy with my sister and got to experience the world according to Italy firsthand. Where I thought there might be worries about nearly non-existent labor force growth and the fall of production in their nation instead only offered one true woe on the minds and in the hearts of all active and law-abiding Italian citizens:

My skin.

If you have ever met me or looked at a piece of printer paper, you will know that I have a skin tone comparable with a freshly painted hospital wall. Might as well be a color palette for “Say Yes to the Dress” or a standard upon which you can determine the freshness of snow. You get the point.

Coming back to my original argument, it seems as though Italy could be contemplating many a grand conflict in their society yet it seemed they had replaced all of this energy supply with relinquishing many variations of warnings that I am quote as “bianco as milk”.
Never in my life have more people prior to me even greeting them let alone learning their name and favorite current Netflix show of choice handed me sunscreen and pled me to use it. 7 days of this and I felt like I was on my third grade field-trip to Yosemite all over again with every parent chaperone smothering me in what can only be described as pure zinc.
One time my sister and I wanted to take a canoe out and were stopped and told we couldn’t go out unless we covered ourselves to protect our skin. AN OLD ITALIAN MAN DICTATED MY SPF AND RECREATIONAL-WATER-ACTIVITY-OUTFIT. I know this isn’t the United States of Amurrica but I still have freedom of sunblock-usage right?

In retrospect it was actually very sweet and attentive of the Italianos. And hey at least I didn’t get a sunburn and technically I boosted their economy by investing in enough sunscreen for a small Albino army. You’re welcome Italy and also thank you for being so caring.