Where I've Been

Um, Europe.

SCORE.

Unfortunately, the lovely Greek Internet cafe won't let me access Facebook (even through a proxy), but as this blog automatically imports notes into my Facebook, I figured that this was the next best thing.

Rachelle, you had better still be in Omaha. I bought you something, and, well, it wouldn't mail well.

Regardless, I'll be home sometime late on the 20th. Don't call me. You try dealing with an eight hour time change and see how you like it.

Thing is, I don't want to come home.

I really don't want to come home.

Everything here is perfect (well, besides the heat, the overabundance of cornflakes, all the cigarette smoke, the exchange rate, and Hoshaw's snoring on the bus). I love it. So, so much. I have a feeling I'll have to come back. Like, soon.

Maybe for a while.

Maybe I'll just live here.

Who knows?

P.S. I SAW MACHIAVELLI'S TOMB. Yes, I know you're jealous.

And I drank holy water.

PWNAGE.