Everyone loves an American girl

I went out again last night to the same pub, O'Neils, as the night before where I met William. I honestly didn't think I would run into him again (and I didn't in case any of my friends were planning on getting their hopes up). But I went because I liked the pub and hoped there would be the same band playing covers or some other form of live music. There was another band playing covers and the lead singer for this band was really good. A lot of energy and just very funny and personable.

As I was watching the band and the boxing match in the background, this man comes up to me and asks me if I am Brazilian. No good sir, I am not Brazilian. Oh where are you from he asked me. I am American, I'm from Los Angeles. He tells me, "Oh, I'm sorry, but that makes sense. I thought you were Brazilian because of your skin tone and you were watching the boxing match and Brazil is playing and I might add, you are very beautiful and I know Brazil is known for their beautiful people. But then so is Los Angeles, so that makes sense you are from Los Angeles." So for those of you that know me, I am not someone that people call beautiful. I'm just not and I understand that. I can pass for pretty when the light is right, I know I'm definitely cute but beautiful not so much. He introduces himself as Roberto from Italy. We talk for a little bit (not so much my type being an older gentleman but still nice to talk to) and I explain what I am doing here and we discuss the Italy education plight as it stands in the nation. He then goes to join his friends. Shortly after he returns and asks if I would like to join them and I politely decline. And then he tells me that one of the guys standing next to me wants to talk to me (cause he had been observing, either sweet or creepy, I don't know which yet) and doesn't know how. But Roberto didn't know what he was waiting for because I am very sweet and he should just talk to me already. So I nodded, Roberto says good-bye again and I leave to go upstairs because the band was finished at this point.

I also forgot to mention this about the night before when I met Ollie from Ireland. When he was chatting me up, he kept going on about how I have a beautiful smile. And he said this line to me, which now that I think about it I can't believe I left it out but he said to me "You have a beautiful smile. It's a real treat to make you smile. The guy who makes you smile is the luckiest guy." Isn't that super super sweet and just smooth? Too bad that he had to keep talking and become rude and crude. Maybe that's why I forgot to mention it before, I remembered his rudeness.

The night before, upstairs was not crowded when I went up there but last night it was already packed. As I walked around the area to see where a good place might be for me to be a wallflower I pack a group of about 5 guys ALL looking at me and watching me. I give them a half wave and proceed to get a drink. As I walk by them again, they drop a glass to the floor and it shatters EVERYWHERE causing me to stop and kind of look at the scene. Two of the five guys really start to chat me up. One of them was toooooo attractive for his own good. Within the first couple of sentences I KNOW they are Irish. Their accents were so thick and so stereotypical of what I imagined everyone in Ireland to sound like that I was surprised I didn't hear more when I was in Ireland. So after telling them about how I was just in Ireland and loved it and yada, yada, yada, they kind of adopt me into their little group.

I only remember one guys name Alan cause I was like...that's not Irish and I couldn't hear the others. Alan was not the one that was too attractive for his own good by the way. Alan looked like Seth Meyers from Saturday Night Live although I couldn't remember last night to tell him so it doesn't matter. But I also couldn't find another American to ask either. Anyway, people that travel will tell you that Australians know how to party. And trust me they do. Being on the cruise,  in Ecuador, traveling around currently, you want a good time, you find the closest Australians and get in good with them. What I learned last night (although it could have been the guys I was with) you want a wild time, you find the Irish and party with them. They were doing like drinking parlor tricks, and I never saw them without two drinks in each of their hands. The only thing I did not appreciate was that instead of putting their glasses down on a table or something they kept dropping them on the floor (which is why the glass dropped and broke right when I met them) or people would stop on them if they landed ok and break the glass. I think they must have been responsible for at least 30 broken glasses if not more. But anyway, they were a lot, a lot of fun!

I met some other Italians later in the evening and discussed the Italian Education system with them too. (I sense a pattern). And then left when the band left and even though I knew where I was going it still took me 2 hours to get back to my hostel and I got in at about 4:30!

It was a good night. I felt pretty and popular. Everyone needs one of those once in a while!

Mambo Italiano

Day 1: San Remo. So I look Italian. At least that is my interpretation of walking around Italy. I never got hassled, cat called or approached by people wanting to rip off touristS (well not yet anyway) until I started walking around with blondes or people who look less like they belong. Exploring by myself, I blended in. Kiah if you are reading this I thought of you and how I should go exploring alone. Best decision ever. Before I met my roommates for this week, I ventured out and got a fresh taste of Italy....now they barely let me out of their sights. They got "worried about me" and I think it's because when they go out, they are noticed, they stand out while I, the brunette with the olive skin blend in with the crowd. My first meal in Italy was...anyone want to guess? It was Indian food. I arrived on a Sunday and the only thing open was the Indian place or the Chinese food place. Sunday...things are closed! Oh those crazy Italians. Day 2: My first day of training. Walking back from training it dawns on me that San Remo reminds me of a less university filled version of Isla Vista, the little university town next to UCSB. I don't know how else to describe it. I totally feel safe walking around up and down the streets, (ok maybe that part is not like IV) and getting lost, going down alleys and checking out all the shops. You get the vibe that it is a very tourist town since half the stores are Disney themed merchandise but it's stuff I've never seen in the United States. It's rather odd. The Smurfs seem to be making a come back. Who would have known? I have met Irish, Americans, British, Kiwis, Scots and Canadians. I share a room with 3 other girls that range from 20 to 22. Nice, but being older than them sometimes I like the separation of working and living with them. I try to be ice to them but sometimes I use the short tone because I don't want to be best friends all day. I sleep in the top bunk of a bunk bed. My center of gravity and balance are tested morning and night. I haven't taken a nap cause I don't want to climb up and down. I have a camp Bestie. He name is Kevin. He's Irish and more Chandler to my Liz Lemon but we make it work. Although, I call him Jack being Lemon. However, he made a point that I make too many media references to TV especially. So in true TV fashion I used Neil Patrick Harris's phrase in How I Met Your Mother "challenge accepted" (which only one person got) and tried. It didn't not work well and 2 days later failed miserably and had to admit defeat as I caved and used a Seinfeld reference today.

I have more but haven't had time or energy to write more so check back later.