(no subject)

I had this horrible moment of panic in the airport.

I'm in a foreign country, I don't know where I'm going, I don't know how to get out of the airport, I don't know how to call home, or where to change money, I don't know the farking exchange rate!

The follow up thought to that, of course is: 'I love summer vacation.'

I read OotP in eight hours on the airplane. I have exactly one thought on it. NOT A SPOILER: Perhaps rereading the 'Tea' series last week was not the best of ideas. It's not so cannon-implausible after all, is it?

I'm staying in a hostel two blocks from the metro station, which reminds me of being in DC. (The metro, not the hotel.) I have spent an hour reacquainting myself with the telenovelas, and they're just as mind numbing as I remember. I'm obviously going to need to find myself another sketchbook, because I've been in the country and awake for about four hours, and I'm half through the one I brought. Now Í've got Eminem blasting at me (IS THERE NO GOD IN THE WORLD?) so I've got to get out of this net cafe.

Hasta.