I arrived in London on the 20th in the morning, to be greeted at Heathrow by Mr. Anderson himself, who kindly enough helped me stand upright under the luggage I was hauling. We stayed in London from that Saturday to the Tuesday, and it was simply incredible; from comedy acts, to ice-skating under the stars at the Natural History Museum, to champagne-filled evenings, to the numerous delicious restaurants, the days flew by on very little sleep.
On Christmas Eve day, I got my Eurostar to Brussels, of course seated in the car with a person who collapsed in the train and needed urgent medical attention; I predictably slept through the event, so I cannot give any further details. After spending a lovely afternoon with Paolucci Jr., I went to pick up Mr. Anderson, who arrived with a sack-full of gifts for the family (business got slow, so he went shopping instead). So Mr. Anderson met the Paoluccis, and made quite the impression. Over the next couple of days, we ate to our heart's content (I think it was more like to over-content, as in too much content ingested), wandered the streets of Ixelles, Brussels and Antwerp, and basked in the holiday relaxation. Christmas scored me a backpack (Jo's response: 'So that's one bag for shoes, what will you take all the rest of your belongings in?'), and plenty of goodies, as well as one heap of a meal.
Back in London, life resumed to the busy social schedule. Mr. Anderson's friends are delightful, and a crazy night out at Modiva proved that they know how to party it up right as well. Very important qualifications. One highlight was a trip out to Richmond Park, where we rented bicycles and rode around to photograph the deer that reside in the park and that are so domesticated that they virtually pose for the photos. A final night at Ronnie Scott's, the infamous jazz joint, was the cherry on the cake to a friggin' great sejour in London under the Anderson supervision.
Next stop: Monaco. Spiced up with the fact that upon all car rentals being unavailable, Alex needed to learn to drive manual. On my father's car. On the wrong side of the road. In the rain. With French drivers. On French mountain roads. All considering, he performed incredibly, only stalling a couple of handful of times, and only once on the motorway (such a star!). The first night, we headed to Ventimiglia and then San Remo for some killer pizza. On our way back, however, we encountered the worst fog on the highway that I have ever seen down there, leaving us with absolutely zero visibility on highways that are hundreds of feet off the ground. Provided much reason to toast to a lot of champagne by the time we got home. On New Year's Day, the sun shone through, and a quick trip down to the beach turned into hours at the beach cafe, lounging and watching the paragliders land their colorful chutes against that perfect blue Cote d'Azue sky. Beautiful. A quick trip to Monaco allowed Andersano to drive the F1 track, which gave a good surge to his testosterone levels. The following day, our last, was spent pretty much in the car, driving up, up, up to the ski resort of Limone, where we snacked and walked the alleys of the tiny town.
The following morning, due to the extra early wake up call, I managed to realize as I was checking in at the very last minute that I had forgotten my passports at the house. Brava. Sergio was immensely kind enough to fly down the next day to fetch them. Oops.
The last couple of days in Brussels were filled with running around, finishing up details, packing, and cleaning up the family fridges. After the usual long trip to Breckenridge, which includes two flights and a long, long van ride into the mountain range, here I am. I am currently unemployed, but will find something eventually, be it teaching French or Italian, or lift operating. It is absolutely dumping snow today, and since I did find a pair of skis for $125 today, I may make an investment... We will see! For now, all I know is that I have enough cash to get by for a while, but need a job to be saving some greenbacks for S.Am.
Signing off for now,
Juj
WHERE IS THE PORN!?
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