That's Wiiild: Trips

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Primavera Sound

8 days of bliss'd out days of beach, sweat, grime, and rock 'n roll heaven in Barcelona. I'd like to rewind and replay, but actually let's just fastforward to next year. Woo!

I arrived in San Francisco, assuming that when Austin said he'd 'meet me at the airport' that he'd roll up in his Honda or whatever. I mean it's America right? We move in cars here, no? So when I was wrong, I hauled my two weeks' worth of necessities up a San Franciscan hill, blowing off his insults to my naivité. "There's a locker SOMEWHERE, Austin." I insisted. I was wrong. But refusing to be wrong, I settled on a bookshop. After bribing the adorable doe-eyed shop keeper with a slice of pizza and the purchase of Thomas Mann's Magic Mountain, I managed to ditch my bag for the day. From there we promptly proceeded to do the only thing that makes sense to 22 year olds when they reunite - get drunk. So although I've technically been to San Francisco, I've really only been to Dolores Park. The rest of my time was spent recovering. And by recovering I mean vomiting tacos into bushes in Oaklalnd, drinking $4 milshakes, and feeding ugly ducklings white cheddar popcorn from the edge of a concrete lake. Never the less, I had an excellent time, liked everyone I encountered, and am definitely considering SF as my next potential home. People seem to like each other there, and that's a big load off after a place like Paris, where people just want to slit each others' throats so they can steal each others' shoes. Also, I flew Virgin, and that was incredible. I became a frequent flyer just so I can fly with them more often.

Blood Orange - Sutphin Boulevard

Back

Just back from Arcachon. That was a good trip, even if it did rain 4 out of 5 days. I drank red wine and ate chocolate ice cream every day. Now I'm back in Paris. Not much seems to have changed. Ground's still wet. Metro still smells like piss.