In an attempt to be a video honey:
In an attempt to be a video honey:
Word to the wise. If you’re in Colombia and have an extra 2 days it’s worth going to Tayrona National Park in Santa Marta. Go with a tour company and get ready for some of the most beautiful beaches you’ve ever seen and a bumpy ass 2 hour ride.
Word to the thirsty: charge your phones , the thirst traps are A1
Dear White People;
When you wear baggy jeans, sneakers and oversized jackets remember where that came from.
When you wear chains, large jewelry and sag your pants, remember where that came from.
When you have long nails, nail art and hoop earrings and remember where that came from.
When you look at fashion and style today, just please remember where it came from and remember how you used to (and continue to) treat us and fucking remember where all your cool shit came from.
So I know last time was really focused on the Transylvania portion of Romania, but besides Spain I think I spent the most time in Romania (a whole week) so it really does deserve more than one post. Once we got back from the coast we did a walking tour of the city (I’m surprised we made it with how sick we were) and learned a ton about the communist history of the country. Our guide was super great, informative and took us to some real hidden gems.
Also who knew Romania was so beautiful? I didn’t, unfortunately my camera had 16% the whole time I was there and I spent most of that on Dracula so here are some of my really good iPhone photos.
Palace of Parliment, Second largest administrative building in the world (besides the Pentagon)
Peles Castle, summer residence of the Royal Family (Did you know Romania had a royal family? I didn’t)
My main man Vlad – aka Vlad the Impaler aka Vlad Tepes, aka Vlad Dracul aka DRACULA
Fun Fact: There are tons of monasteries in Romania
This building was beautiful and I think it’s a bank?
This week is Mish-Mash p3 aka the food edition I want to present to you some outtakes I have from Cordoba, Madrid and Portugal. This first photo is from a little patio in Cordoba that actually served decent Mexican food. One this I will say about Cordoba is that they have some bomb ass food. I went here with my friend after we had a pretty wild night out. We went for breakfast then (because everyone hates a comedown) came here for some after breakfast drinks. The weather was beautiful and Cordoba is known for their patios (aka random outdoor areas in the middle of their restaurants) I usually HATE food pictures, but I’m really hungry so whatever.
This next photo was taken in Madrid about a week after we arrived in Spain. Once again I hate photos of food but as I said, I was thirsting for American food – I forget how bad the sugar and fat withdrawals can be for us Americans when traveling to a country that actual cooks their food in FDA approved substances.
Look at that blur on those fries, super proud of my camera for this one
This was in Portugal, Lisbon to be exact. In front of a huge monument with all the faces and bodies of the Portuguese conquistadors. Kind of creepy if I’m being honest but whatever. Even though it’s huge and very impressive, I think I spent more time look at this super awesome conquistador graffiti than the actual monument itself.
Why does everyone always talk about hating coming home for the holidays? I’ve struggled with this question for years and never really discovered my personal reasons for it until now. Before I go into a complete family history let me clarify what I mean by home. I definitely don’t mean my parents’ house, because that is something I absolutely adore. Sleeping in my old bed, playing with my dog, having my mom cook all my favorite foods. Home for me means Alachua, Florida. It means coming down to spend time with all my extended family, aunts, uncles, great aunts and uncles, cousins baby mommas and all. That is something I dread.
Do I get the typical “why are you still single questions?” of course I do – and as someone who was recently fucked over by the fuckboi supreme of all fuckboys trust me I’m constantly dodging certain family members just so I can avoid all man discussions. For me it’s not what’s said but what’s unsaid that bothers me. My family is one of those “we were raised going to church 4 out of the 7 days of the week families, and not just normal church but that deep south type of church families” and two generations later it still shows. Sex before marriage, drinking, dancing, cursing, drug use of any kind, gay marriage, abortions you name it it’s off topic. But the one thing my family likes to do that particularly bothers me is the a la carte approach they like to take on when it comes to these religious beliefs and values.
Let me explain – As someone who is a single lady of the New York streets, I enjoy a good time and I can with 100% certainty say that my family would not approve of over 90% of the things that I do in my free time – drinking, men, my dress, my language, it would all be frowned upon and is not to be discussed or bought up around these family members. However deplorable they might think my behavior might be it has nothing on what some of my cousins do. Multiple children out of wedlock, absentee fathers and mothers, abuse, neglect (I can go on) these are things that are not only running rampant in my family but dare I say accepted?
Drinking around my family? – a huge no
Bringing around your 3 kids and multiple baby mommas? – yes of course!
Wearing a skirt above my knees – I would never hear the end of my grandmothers ranting
Two children living with her that have basically been abandoned by their mother – Not a single eyelash is batted.
The fact that I can be openly shamed for drinking and cursing around my family while there is a myriad of abuse and neglect victims sitting around the table that we won’t dare speak about is absurd to me because on holds no flame to the other. Me having a glass of wine with my Thanksgiving dinner vs. my cousin sitting next to me who doesn’t acknowledge or take care of his 3 kids out of wedlock are not even comparable.
The fact that we hold one so highly above the other is something that drives me crazy. Granted not everyone wants to discuss their abuse in front of their family members and is a personal choice, but don’t you dare shake your finger at me when I decide to throw back a few shots of whiskey before dinner because it hurts my hurt to sit around the dinner table looking at my family which contains 3 generations of sexual abuse victims that we have never to this day have spoken about. It physically angers me that we treat our men and our women so different, watching all the men sit around as their wives fix their plates, or the way my uncles grill the girls in my family about their love life while their sons are chasing after their multiple children whose mothers are nowhere to be found. Don’t you dare ask me about what I can and can’t cook while you’re sitting there with your grandson who hasn’t seen his mom in years because she’s hopped up on drugs. How about instead of focusing on my is or isn’t in my cup you focus on the real issues at hand. For some prayer is the answer, for other it’s alcohol and for me it just happens to be both.