It’s Tortilla Time| Hi I’m Tori and this is my Story

The Greece trip brimmed with comical occurrences, a most notable one was as follows.

The drinking age in Greece is merely sixteen, so presumably many of my classmates got smashed come night time. It became rather evident, however, that the drunkenness was not limited only to students.

Not only was alcohol easily accessible to us, but so were cigars. Cam and his buddies took advantage of this luxury and smoked a couple in their hotel room during the free time granted to us. It was during this time that of course the teachers decided to do a room check, a check done before our designated bedtime to affirm that everything is orderly. Scrambling around in a quick attempt to disguise the offending aroma of cigar smoke, Cam raced into the bathroom, pretending to brush his teeth, and his buddies doused the room in body spray.

When the door was at last answered my band teacher, visibly drunk, stumbled into the room and accounted for all the boys. His face was crimson, further evidence that he had been drinking heavily. Cam emerged from the bathroom and my drunk teacher, in all his stumbling and slurring glory, conversed with him about the evening.

Teacher- So, what did you do this evening?
Cam- Well, I went to an ice cream parlour.
Teacher- An ice cream parlour?
Cam- Yes, an ice cream parlour.
Teacher- Was this the highlight of your night?
Cam- Yes, yes it was.
Teacher- Well that’s TRAAAAAAAAAGIC.

And with that the teacher staggered out of the room, leaving as abruptly as he had entered. The smoke still lingered in the room, an overwhelming stench to one entering from outside, but it apparently hadn’t phased my teacher in the slightest.

Luck, for once, was on Cam’s side.

• Generic brands of dutch beer taste strikingly similar to metal.
• I take a particular disliking to those who constantly cling to me in an effort to become my friend.
• I do not enjoy eating foods that I cannot pronounce.
• When food is involved and need be, it is possible for me to open my mind, if ever so slightly.
• I am not susceptible to seasickness, though my grandmother doesn’t boast this unique trait.
• I can deter gypsies with minimal effort.
• It is wise to simply regard teachers in all their drunken glory.
• Souvlaki is a scrumptious food.
• I find Greeks notably similar to Italians.
• Cruise food is comparable to plane food.

Good times were had.

Eating Turkey … in Turkey.

Attempting to adapt to the stormy Turkish climate.

I’m a true gangsta.

Creepers.

Ha, I look so EMO.

I have arrived home from Greece.

I am alive.
I had fun.
I will elaborate later.

It is nearly midnight in Athens, and I am still on Athens time.

I made it to Greece alive, although I’m admittedly exhausted. I am currently at a tiny internet cafe in Delphi, Greece. It has been a most interesting trip thus far, and I surmise that there will be plenty more to come.

Thankfully today brought the end of the week. And it brought my new camera.

Her name is Calanthe, and she is a Canon EOS 30D. She could otherwise be described as a four pound growth on my face. All evening I have been taking pictures of inadequate objects, and just about anything else that could possibly be photographed.

I luffs her.

• I am a pushy drunk.
• I will most likely die alone and unloved.
• I am a badass mother fucker who runs down pyramids.
• Eating shark surprisingly makes you less afraid of them.
• Consuming salt-water makes me sick.
• I feel an immense emptiness when there is no dog sleeping at the foot of my bed.
• I should probably never take psychology in university.
• I have an aversion to Wisconsin. Like, seriously.
• I hate the fucking humidity to the depths of my very soul.
• Airline food is fake. Very, very fake.
• I am incapable of tanning.
• Waterproof mascara is a mere marketing ploy.

Mexico was the shit.

It was excellent. Fantastic. Superb.

I’ll elaborate later, when a mere 1.5 hours of sleep isn’t my sole energy factor.

It is now Cam’s birthday. Unfortunately the morning will be spent at the vet clinic, observing an eye surgery. I must be awake in six hours to attend said occasion.

I’m beginning to sense a sleep-deprived theme to this blog.

…to Mexico.

I am so tired that I could drop at any second. I must force myself to soldier on. In a few hours it will be well worth it.

Please oh please don’t let me sit wedged between two fat people on the plane.

And please oh please don’t let Bee Movie be the in-flight movie.

…..

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It’s difficult to believe that our Mexican adventure commences tomorrow morning. In fact, nineteen hours will find me on the white sand beach, tanning to my heart’s content. This is an especially pleasing concept to a Canadian buried in heaps of snow at the moment.

We are supposed to be at the airport at three AM tomorrow morning. It’s at that awkward hour where it’s unclear whether or not sleep should even be attempted. If I do decide to get some shut-eye I’ll be forced to awaken at around two AM which, unfortunately enough, is my typical bedtime. I’ll most likely stay up. I’m constantly told that I can nap on the plane, but this is near impossible for me. Excitement always trumps sleepiness, no matter how knackered I find myself.

My Redbull will be most handy tonight.

Packing is nearly completed. I purchased a new backpack today which will serve as my carry-on.

I was pleased that I found my Canada pin. This will be particularly useful when travelling to Greece, as Canadians are highly regarded in Europe. I don’t want to be mistaken for a yank, you see.

Packing lightly is a foreign concept to me.

The dense one is still disheartened that we will be leaving him.