I caught sight of the pastry counter and motioned to the server that I’d like to take a closer look. You’d think I’d asked to inspect their cash register. He gave me a haughty once-over, then sharply informed me I wasn’t allowed past the second step. Oh... Ok. It felt so unnecessarily cold… completely dismissive. Even the lady inside, behind the counter, could do nothing but glare at me. So… I left. Unmistakenly banished... again.

Today was my birthday. I really hadn’t thought the day through when I decided to book tickets to the Vatican. At the time, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable birthday activity. Right? What better thing to do on one's birthday than to go into the most churchiest of churches out there... whilst in the midst of intense jetlag? Now, anyone who’s read my blogs knows how I feel about churches... especially Catholic churches. They annoy me to no end. Why? Because they parade “ s

The 'travelling pro' side of me failed miserably as soon as I reached Termini, one of Rome's main station terminals. When the airporter train arrived, it was time for me to navigate the dreaded Metro. I did consider walking... as it was only 34 minutes to my hotel... but, as I might have mentioned previously, I was too shattered, sticky, and snappy to manage that.

Well… It’s that time again. I’m off. Packed, passport ready, and currently on the train en route to YVR. This one feels a little different, though. Not even a little. A whole lot. First off... I’m poor. Well, if we're being honest... I’m always poor, but this time I’m poor without the usual credit buffer I tend to lean on when I wander abroad. Long story. Banks suck. Actually, I suck — and that’s why the banks suck. But yeah… long story. The summer didn’t pan out on the sid