Canola, Kiwis and The Best Cat's Ass Ever

The following week is a blur. Mowing, moving, stacking, cleaning, setting, eating, drinking, sleeping. Multiply that by 5 and you've got the week down.

In between everything, I got to spend a lot of time with the ladies contingent of the New Zealand representatives. The boys were doing heavy labor. The gentlemen were driving supplies and people to and from the wedding site. So the ladies were in charge of hospitality. Preparing meals, keeping the house clean, receiving guests, etc.

The closer we got to the wedding date, more of their family and friends began arriving. Including Caesar & Cleopatra (please refer to the addendum in Turnaround), as well as:

ENTER: Doug and Pattie
Good good people. Excellent gene pools too because they have the cutest kids!

ENTER: The Scientist
He is so smart it's almost frightening.

ENTER: The Blonde Nugget
This child may perhaps be the coolest kid I've met in a long time. He is 3. He is very blonde. He is a tiny adult. He also loves butter.

Wedding day rolls around and I head over to the RV that Caesar, Cleopatra, Doug and Pattie are sharing. As we pulled up, I was immediately stricken with some serious RV envy. This thing was a mansion on wheels. Complete with working kitchen, TWO giant beds AND even a straightener.

We all get ready together and drive over to tent city to begin the festivities. Pulling up to the ceremony site, I was struck by the enormous effort compiled by this group of people. What had been a field in the middle of nowhere with knee high grass, had been mowed, baled, remowed and transformed into a small city of weddingness. A massive tent, complete with draping and chandelier dominated the landscape on the crest of the hill.

It, however, paled in comparison when you took in the ceremony site. Gracefully laid out in the valley, it was flanked to the right by rolling canola fields (a cheery bright yellow flowering crop) and on the left stretched a small pond delicately framed by cattails and reeds.

I feel that I need to stress this next part:

This day COULD NOT have been more perfect. The only thing that made it more perfect were the two people that we had all gathered together to celebrate with. They don't just love each other, they are there for one another, they care unconditionally for one another and they balance each other beautifully.

The ceremony was stunning. I don't even know these people and I'm crying while they read each other their vows. Hell, its 3 months later now that I'm FINALLY writing this and I'm tearing up just thinking about it.

Their photographer? Fucking awesome. Post ceremony the wedding party slipped away to take a few photos. The photographer had 20 or so pictures loaded on an iPad that circulated at the reception. Brilliant idea because I cannot tell you how many weddings I've been to, or even been IN and not even seen the photos.This girl does some seriously gorgeous work. Want proof? Here's her website: Meg Courtney Photography

The reception was unreal. Following a short break after the ceremony where guest freely mingled amongst one another, a delicious meal started things off right. The MC's were hilarious using a scavenger hunt to release the tables to eat. After dinner came the speeches. Beautiful words that described the bride and groom in ways that I cant even do justice. Each speech was perfect in its own right, and each one captivated the crowd completely. Beyond that, energetic people, plenty of booze and a giant dance floor. You really can't go wrong. We were there until close to 3am. Captain Awesome OWNED that dance floor, line dancing and all.

The following day, post wedding clean up ensued, followed by the construction of a MASSIVE water slide ending between the arch set up for the ceremony.

Return to: "Get Out"

The Most Hilarious Dinner

The day after the wedding The Professor and I went out for dinner with Captain Awesome, The Scientist, Doug, Pattie, John Wayne and The Fox. (Side note: That may be the oddest sentence I've ever written...) What ensued resulted in conversation and stories (also known as yarn spinning) that left us all doubled over in laughter by the end of the night.

[I've been sitting here in a cafe for a few minutes trying to think of the best way to write this post out. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that there were so many little stories that were hilarious in their own right that haven't made the blog yet. So this entry will not only be dedicated to the most hilarious dinner ever, but also to the mini hilarious moments that haven't been mentioned yet. To those who were present: if I've missed anything of note, add it in the comment section. I think I will again revert to "bullet style" typing...]

- I was promptly introduced to the arcade game "Buck Hunter", which coincidentally can now be found at a bar in Dunedin, and I was disappointed to learn that my Halo skills acquired in college were in vast disarray. I couldn't hit an imaginary water buffalo to save my life. Pitiful.

- Another first time experience: slushie pints. D.E.L.I.C.I.O.U.S. Mix beer with some sort of fruitie slushie... sounds ridiculous, but I swear its wonderful.

- "Phil Dunfie is so fit that he doesn't have calves....he has cows."

- "Root beer tastes like mouthwash."

- During dinner, The Scientist tells us a grand tale of being sent on an errand to buy baby clothes for a friends baby shower. Keep in mind, this man is a genius. He arrives at the store, peruses the baby area and comes home with a t-shirt in hand. When he presents it to his wife for further inspection, she is confused. The t-shirt he bought was basically doll clothing. It was TINY. As we are laughing at his retelling he looks at us gesturing with his hands that he has "no idea how big babies are!"

- The Little Blonde Nugget, who served as the ring bearer in the wedding, was a constant source of entertainment. Upon entering our camper to explore, he turned to Captain Awesome and said in a very stately voice, "This is a very comfortable home." He then retreated to the back bedroom, climbed onto the bed and said, "If you need me, I'll be in here."
Also, at one point he was leaving a room and said, "I'm just going to get a drink, I'll be two...maybe two and a half minutes."
His father said to him, "You have five minutes." To which the Little Blonde Nugget replied, "Can we make it nine?"

- The second week we were in town The Professor was invited to play slow pitch Tuesday night. Apparently the skills required to play cricket are fairly useful on a slow pitch field.... he fielded a ball off of third base and flung it to first so quickly that the receiving player almost didn't see it coming. His first round at bat? Smashed it. After the game, the team held a quick initiation for him. An ice cold can of beer was placed on each base. He was instructed that for each base he made it to he was required to shot gun the beer. Standing at home base with an easy grin on his face, the ball was thrown and he powered it over the fence and into a field never to be seen again. And I thought the button down shirt was attractive.....that by far topped it.

- Post wedding ceremony, The Professor and Captain Awesome were taught how to correctly line dance by the ladies contingent of the bridal party in the middle of a field. Definitely one of my favorite photos from the weekend...

- At some point during the reception, Captain Awesome found what appeared to be aviator goggles. I have NO clue where he found them, but it definitely enhanced his dance moves.

- Cheese Update: After we had all returned to our respective countries after the wedding, I received a lovely message from The Fox. In closing, she mentioned that she discovered a block of cheese in the freezer door when we left. Apparently, post nachos it was mistakenly placed in the wrong door...

Return to: "Get Out"

I feel like confetti....

This last year has been unreal. I don't know if I'm frantically searching for something or if my gut reactions are pulling me towards something huge. Wonderful. Frightening. Electric. Suck-your-breath-in-through-your-teeth-and-dive-into-freezing-water.

I keep trying to slow my mind down and enjoy the next few months. Taste every bite of food. Smile more (if that's humanly possible). Walk places. I'm trying, in vain, to train myself to savor my life. Maybe if I try hard enough I can develop some sort of photographic memory that not only catalogs sights, but also scents, feelings and sounds.... Things are going to be very different the next time I'm in Kentucky, so I want to catalog as much as I can.

It's just nearly impossible to do with my head and my heart shouting at me to move. Move! MOVE! The to-do list in my head is growing at an alarming rate...

Everyone knows manual focus is cooler...

My dad has this camera. He used to take it out when he was younger and snap photos along Kentucky back roads. I remember when he gave it to me, I was a teenager and didn't have a clue how to operate such a complicated piece of photographic equipment. Loading the film was one thing ... but then you had to figure out how to hand advance between shots, not too far - not too short. How to adjust for lighting. How to frame subjects. How to focus.

That was when I fell in love with the manual focus. You could shoot "artistically"... that is, when you weren't trying to figure out how to operate the rest of the camera. It required hand-eye coordination to reach that sweet spot where you had that bird sitting on that fence post perfectly in line. (Of course it took you longer than 5 seconds to get it there so 9 times out of 10 the bird had already found something more interesting and flown away.) This camera has little finger grips patterned all the way around the barrel of the lens. They effortlessly grip your fingerprints as you swing the focus in and out until you had it spot on.  You could feel the mechanics. Feel the glide. Combine that with what you were seeing through the viewfinder and if you moved slowly enough and concentrated really hard .... you could almost feel the focus.

Now....imagine that feeling. Hold it. You're line of sight is spinning in and out trying to grip onto something, anything that focuses clearly. Work...no. Travel...no. Running...no. Monotonous tractor work....ahhhh, there it is.

My dad is a farmer. He will always be a farmer. Even when he's retired. He'll be a retired farmer. As one of his children, I grew up here amongst grass, crickets, dirt, fresh air and summer winds. I understand, to some extent, what he loves about what he does. But its never more clear to me than when I get to work alongside him. There is something about the steadiness, the monotony, the air, the sun, something...that just gives you the answers to all of life's problems. "You can solve the worlds problems from a tractor," he says, "that is until you turn the engine off, then it all slips out of your mind."

My conclusion: Hay fields are giant labyrinths.

There is a theory about labyrinths today. That walking (whether a large scale one that you actually walk in, or a small scale piece that your fingers "walk") one can be used as a form of meditation. "As a meditation tool consisting of a walkable single line path, a labyrinth can be a source of solace and can quieten a distracted or over-reactive mind. When troubled by disturbing emotions or unfortunate events in your life, walking a labyrinth can help resolve your inner discomfort and still your mind enough for you to get clarity of what is going on (wikihow)."

I've been feeling a little off kilter lately. Second guessing myself, questioning things I'm normally rock solid on, etc. Just an overall feeling of insecurity, for no reason I might add.

I was helping dad with a hay field on the back of our property. Its a lovely field, secluded, bordered with large trees and a pond to one side. As I start cutting grass to bake and dry and in the sun, I end up making and sweeping back and forth pattern. Easy turns on the ends, methodically cutting my way across the expanse of the field. With each row completed, my head clears a bit more, dropping guards on the more complicated things that I'd pushed to the back burner. I begin to slowly sift through the shit that has been rolling around in my head for the last year. Self confidence, relationships, travel, goals, love, health, etc.

My life had been on auto focus for the last few years (New Zealand excluded). It was easy. Push button. Click. Memory created. I had lapsed into what I hate the most - living a life on the path of least resistance. Pffft.

That's right....PFFFFT.

Manual focus, my darling, my love. I need to relearn how to use you. How to see the whole picture by looking at the subject. How to frame my life. How to make memories with forethought, strength and beauty. Not memories lacking soul, cookie cutter in frame or out of focus.

I keep having flashes of dreams lately. I'm decked out in my polka dot dress and flip flops. On a beach. With this lovely, intelligent, hilarious man. Just walking. And its delicious.

Take a deep breath...

Oh, pre-storm evening walks...I do love you so.

Last night, I went for a stroll around sundown, the grass was just starting to turn green and you could smell freshly plowed dirt in the air. I love that smell...it's heavy, fresh and warm all at once. The sun slowly setting highlighted the storm clouds brewing in the distance.

You can always hear a storm coming. Birds stop singing, your breathing seems louder, the whole world seems to go quiet. There is a palpable energy to the air that makes me feel like I am walking through a force field. I knew this energy before I even saw the clouds. Its been humming through my blood for the last three weeks.

Something is changing.

My maiden voyage at cross continental travel was a huge catalyst for change in my life. I knew it as soon as I got off the plane in Kentucky. I was in my home state again, but it wasn't home anymore. I loved New Zealand. Absolutely fell head over heels for the entire country. The food, the people, the air, the sea, the walks, the beer, the glorious mountains. It all felt like me. And that felt so....good.

Before KFarm and I had even started heading back towards Auckland for our flight home, we had discussed coming back on working holiday visas. As soon as I landed, I took a hard look at my finances and made some quick decisions right away. If I was going back, I wanted to go back ASAP. I needed three things:
1. My dog.
2. Finances to actually be eligible for the visa AND fly myself and said dog across the globe.
3. A job to support myself when I arrived.

At that point in time, I had 2.5 dogs, 1 cat and 3 horses. This would have to change. So I began cleaning house. Mia went to a therapy dog trainer, Penny Cat found a great new home where she gets attention and has plenty of covers to burrow under, and I am currently in the process of selling my Clydesdale and finding a free lease home for my trail horse. Just dropping one dog and one cat made a huge difference in my stress level alone. I didn't feel rushed to get home to let the puppy out, or have to worry about having cat litter. My bills are growing even smaller :)

1. The Boss is coming with me on my global adventure. This means lots of super fun testing for customs requirements. Good thing I work at a vet clinic....

2. My goal is 10 grand in 7 months. If I don't eat out often and successfully sell the Clydesdale, this is a completely attainable goal.

3. The job hunt is in process people. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

I can feel this part of my life coming to a close and a new book slowing beginning. A storm is coming my dears, I just wonder if it will end with a rainbow or a hurricane.

Turnaround

Continued from: "He's worse than a freakin bug zapper..."

My dignity still in tow, we loaded up Bruno Timberlake Mars and headed out for our coastal drive to Kaikoura.

Skipping through Christchurch, and finally landing in our lovely Kaikoura hostel, Albatross Backpackers, we check in and are promptly shown to our rooms.

Let me just say. I LOVE to read. Seriously. I blew through at least 10 books on this trip. And none of them with pictures.

That being said, when we were taken into our room for the next two nights, I clambered up onto my top bunk and almost giggled with glee at the reading light that was installed right next to my head board. Love this hostel already.

Later that evening, I'm all curled up in my bed have a riot of a conversation with The Professor. He starts asking about bus schedules and a light bulb goes off in my head.

I bolt up right and lean over to KFarms bed....

"K.... he's asking me about bus schedules...."

Her eyes laser focus in on me and a big grin spread over her face. "Really?"

Now, in all fairness, I'm quite sure that this was just a passing thought of "wouldn't it be funny if..."

"Yeah....what if I went back? I don't really want to do anything in particular in the North Island and I need to look at Dunedin again to see if I can really live there for an extended period of time...."

And a plan was hatched.

The trio split up the next day. I hopped a bus back down to Christchurch for the night to catch an early connector to Dunedin. I booked two nights stay at our hostel and informed The Professor of my return. Poor fellow, I don't think he was expecting that.

I didn't want him to get a big ego about the fact that I may or may not have wanted to spend more time with him, so I guiltily fabricated a weak story about having coffee with a friend of a friend to discuss work visas, employment, etc.

Arriving in Christchurch around 4ish in the afternoon, I checked into my lodging for the night, Jailhouse Accommodations. It's exactly what it sounds like, an old correctional facility that has been refurbished into dorm style lodging. And its just as creepy.

Everything clangs and echoes with a general overtone of menace. The beds are clean and comfortable, when is really all I cared about at that moment. Feeling antisocial, I jumped in the shower early, shaved my legs as though my life depended on it and climbed into bed early.

The Professor had ever so graciously agreed to be my chauffeur and tour guide for the next two days in Dunedin and was planning on collecting me from the bus station around 1:45 the next day. He has also kindly offered his house as a place to stay, which I cautiously accept, keeping my hostel book until the last minute just in case he's a nutcase.

I am so excited I can hardly stand it. My leg was jumping up and down the entire 6 hour bus ride back down to Dunedin. With my heart in my throat, the bus crests a hill and Dunedin sweeps out before my feet.

Pulling into the bus station, I do a quick once over of my appearance:
Good butt pants: check
Hair remotely under control: check
Stupid grin plastered to my face: get a grip! Normal face, normal face normal face chanting through my head as I climb off the bus.

Then my feet hit the pavement, I grab my bag turn to my right and BAM.... there is my favorite Kiwi with my name printed on paper, cute grin on his face, looking straight at me. normalfacenormalfacenormalface

Ah fuck it. A big grin creeps across my cheeks and that was the last time I tried to hold it back.

Driving back to his house, I am amazed at how balanced I feel. The constant move, pack, drive, eat, move, etc. routine of the the few weeks had worn more on me than I was aware. Sitting in the passenger seat of a car with a man whom I barely know, I feel so....good. Calm. Free. Giddy. Solid. Its just nice to be taken care of. I don't have to plan, think or drive. I just enjoy.

We drop my stuff at his house (which is, of course, adorable) I internalize as much grinning as I can until he shows me the reading light he set up for my use (whether or not it was actually there before or not, I have no clue, but the fact that he even mentioned it at all was just too cute).

Back in the car, he is like a kid in a candy store. Music flowing through the car, leg jumping, silly grin on his face. He emphatically pats my leg as he tells me bits and pieces of information about things we drive buy. Where he likes to play golf, how awesome the view is from that hill over there, where he likes to run.

We drive out to Tunnel Beach, climbing rocks, sitting on driftwood couches and chatting, I am thoroughly enjoying the burn in my legs from the steep climb up and down to the beach. I haven't moved enough over the last week and it felt good to sweat a little and get my heart pumping again.

Hiking back to the car, we cruise over the St. Claire Beach. Popping into a pub for a "wee pint", I then undergo one of the most important and well demonstrated life lessons that I will ever learn....

How to play cricket.

I like cricket. It's like fancy baseball. Initially confusing, fancy baseball.

The beach is gorgeous as we walk the full length of it, shoes in hand. He points out the most photographed places, the best views, we sneak a kiss as we stroll up through a bush covered path to the overlook.

This. Is. Not. Real. Life.

As we walk back down towards the car, we get an excellent tip on some stellar fish and chips from a friend of a friend. Yes, please.

We quickly order (ok, he quickly orders and I spend too long reading the menu) and its back to the car to drive to an excellent location for eating fish and chips. In the car, parked on a hill overlooking the entire city.

Again, I say....Not Real Life.

Just for shits and giggles, we drive over to another looming hill to enjoy looking down on the city from the other side.

Keep in mind boys and girls - that was all in an afternoon. One. Afternoon.

Monday

Firstly - its a holiday! So I get to steal him for myself all day. Full time tour guiding is a rough life.

I know what you're thinking here....
"Why, goodness LP! You must be absolutely famished. What on earth did you get for breakfast? Twigs and berries?"

No, sweet readers, not even close. He cooks me breakfast.

Let me repeat that.

He cooks me breakfast.

"I'll have it ready by the time your out of the shower." he says.

What dream life have i dropped into?

20 minutes later, I'm squeaky clean and sitting on his couch looking out the window at a sweeeeet view of the city staring down a plate of toast, poached eggs and hot cross buns.

::swoon::

After breakfast, we drive for what seems like no time at all to the start of the Ross Creek Trail. This leads us through dense forest, past a neat waterfall, through evergreens, past water reservoirs and into the beginning of the Pineapple Track.

Side note: If you've read any of this silly blog, you'll note that I ADORE hiking. When I move to Dunedin, I'm telling you now - I'm walking The Pineapple Track every weekend. I will be FIT.

This track was rowdy (for my current level of fitness): I, sadly, was breathing heavy about halfway up from a combination of the view and the climb. After many breathers for my pansy ass, we make it to the top and find a nice little bench to park on and enjoy the view whilst we chow down on the mini pecan pies he so thoughtfully packed that morning.

Again, I find myself unable to ignore how calm and grounded I feel looking down on this city.

ENTER: The "Discussion"

Leaving the track, we head out for a milkshake, and our first disagreement ensues.

The Professors Rules for Vanilla Flavoring
- Not in ice cream cones.
- Not in the car (Editors note: not sure why I have this written in here)
- Yes in milkshakes

LP's Rules for Vanilla Flavoring
- Its boring. Hence why the word "vanilla" is synonymous for "plain", therefore chocolate is better.
- Unless it is being used in my banana bread recipe, then its more than acceptable.

After milkshakes we drive out to Allan's Beach. By far my favorite beach for the whole trip. If you are even in Dunedin, go. Its remote, not crowded and stunning. There were even up close views of blue penguins and fur seals.

Leaving Allan's Beach, we skip into town and pick up his room mate, lets call her Mary Poppins because shes petite and adorable. The Professor, Mary Poppins and I head out for some dinner, eating way too much Thai food (It was Thai right??).

Mary Poppins had other plans for the evening, so The Professor and I walked in town a bit to a pub called The Craic (my current number one favorite pub)

Tuesday

Waking up the next day feeling like a champion, I slept in a bit and prepared myself for a strenuous day of doing absolutely nothing important.

I strolled into town, had a lovely cup of coffee, read my book for a bit, did a little light shopping. Nothing to crazy. I was planning on sun bathing in the Varsity (collegiate area of the town), but the weather was total shit, so I sauntered back to the Octagon and ended up in The Craic again. The last game of the New Zealand vs. England cricket game was conveniently playing in front of an empty couch with a nice fire blazing away in the corner.

It was the perfect spot to land for the rest of the day. I convinced my host to meet me after he was free from work and we watched the end of a very emotional game of cricket. He is so fucking cute when he gets excited that I can hardly stand it. Knee jumping up and down with that silly half smile on his face. You cant not smile at it,

After cricket, we picked up Mary Poppins from work and drove back to his house where she proceeded to cook everyone one hell of a meal:

Lamb Roast
Leeks
Potatoes (from his garden!)
Home made gravy and mint sauce

I've died and gone to heaven.

Wednesday

Wednesday was get my act together day. I took a different route into town, walking through some more residential areas. Trying to get a feel for the area and attempt to imagine myself there for an extended period of time.

Completely doable. Another post to follow as promised on Dunedin itself.

Sporting my favorite polka dot dress, I met The Professor for lunch near the varsity, snagging pizza and eating in the sun.

Next was souvenir shopping, followed by a relaxing hour of reading in the octagon. In closing, I toured The Settlers Museum next to the train station and promptly met my tour guide that afternoon in the park out front.

ENTER: Squash

So, while we're sitting in the park, he asks me if I'd like to watch him play squash that night. "Of course!" I say. Little did I know.

Squash is an odd sport. Not my style for audience participation, BUT I will say, there was something immensely attractive about watching him ref the last game of the night. Numbers have never sounded so enticing. I'm surprised my clothes didn't fall off.

I can now say that I understand what squash is, and that I have no desire to watch it again.

We march back to his house, change for dinner and head out for my real last night in town.

Dinner at Yuki (aka "The Cave")
A sweet little Japanese restaurant tucked in off of an alley (hence The Cave), I was skeptical at first, but this place was amazing! You got to pick and chose several things off of a fairly extensive menu, nibbling here and there on whatever strikes your fancy at the time.

Dumplings, edamame, octopus balls, avocado and salmon miso, spicy chicken, chicken skin, scallops (YUM). Definitely going back here ASAP.

After dinner we went to our first date night pub, Albar, sat in our little window seat and bantered back and forth, I was on cloud nine.

Thursday

Bittersweet. This was the most beautiful and shitty day all at the same time. I packed my stuff that morning, headed to town for a weird tour of the Cadbury Factory, then met The Professor for lunch at my all time favorite place: Velvet Burger. What did I get, you ask? The Homegrown, why of course.

Climbing into his car, we drive a decent ways out of town and start climbing up a gravel road. Arriving at our final destination, Mount Cargill Lookout.

Sitting shoulder to shoulder in the grass eating our twin burgers looking out across literally everything, it was like being on top of the world, so stunning and so far away all at once. I have never wished for inclement, flight canceling weather more in my life than I did on that day.

We get up and he suggests that we walk a little further down the path to see "just another wee view of the city". I cant get enough, so of course I follow.

Coming around the corner of a ridge, its as if the whole world has been cut open. To my lift is rift after rift of mountains. Draped in cascading mist and slowly rippling away into the distance. If you let your eyes travel to the right, you can see Port Chalmers, Allan's beach, and a little more to the right lies Dunedin itself.

He stands behind me, an arm wrapped around me, pointing out places we had been, following the road to Allan's beach, the Pineapple Track, Laying out the last four days via the scenery.

With my flight to Auckland looming precariously in the distant future, we make our way back down to the city. To complete my Dunedin experience, he buys me an ice cream cone from Rob Roy's dairy. (Boysenberry is delicious!)

In accordance with the unreal adventures we've had, we take the long way to the airport. Driving along a coastal road listening to excellent music and talking about how we really must be in a movie.

Pulling up to the airport, I'm accustomed to an american airport drop off. Pull to curb, unload bags, hug, and your off. But no no, he parks the car, carries my bags in, literally checks me in for my flight because I'm too dumbstruck to press buttons, walks me into the cafe area and sits and waits with me for my flight.

Loading started at 5:55, I didn't even get in line for security until 5:50. He walks me to the check point, we say our farewells. I reiterate for the hundredth time that I fully intend to hunt him down again when I'm back in town. I start to say, "I'll see you later" and he just laughs and tells me that he'll wait for me at the window.

And he did. I fly through security, we wave at each other, I blow him a kiss and disappear down the boarding tunnel

I wasn't sure that people like this existed. I've just been in the wrong damn country.

He's worse than a freaking bug zapper...

Continued from "This only happens in the movies..."

Yes. Yes I did remember to put on deodorant. Thank god.

We stroll over to a "wee little bar" called Albar (I think...) down the road from the main area of the octagon. I'm trying not to be awkwardly quiet and in trying to not be awkwardly quiet, I end up being awkwardly quiet....for about 2 minutes.

We snagged a nice window seat looking out onto the sidewalk dining area and chatted about a vast variety of subjects. Ranging from the correct pronunciation of "orange juice" to the standard discussion of "tell me about your family".

Again, I cant tell you what he was thinking, but I was melting into a puddle of pheromones. Even the pauses in conversation didn't seem awkward, just filled with comfortable contemplation of each finished topic punctuated by a sip or two of beer.

Get it together LP! Goodness!

He walks me back to my hostel, roughly 2 blocks away and as we're saying goodbye, that damn eye contact kicks in.

He's worse than a freaking bug zapper.

.....we may or may not have made out like high schoolers for an undetermined length of time.

I fell into bed like a giddy feather with some stupid grin plastered on my face.

ENTER: Canada Day!

The Canadians Birthday was the next day, so we ran around town shopping and being girly (not my area of expertise, but I can work with it.) In one store, I came across the most adorable polka dot dress. After trying it on, it was an immediate purchase. Hitting my mid-thigh with a modest top, it was too stinking cute to pass up.

A little bit of messaging back and forth with The Professor during the day leads to plans for another casual evening out.

Polka. Dot. Dress. You're up slugger. Get your game face on.

Ok, so it was a little cold that night. And I heavily debated wearing my jeans. But damn it! It was our last night in town.....and that dress.....screw it. It's not like we're going hiking, I wont be outside for that long.

I hustle over to our meeting spot and lean myself up against a strategically placed flower bed. My legs are lookin' looooong. In an effort to not appear too eager, I fiddle with my phone to keep myself from scanning the crowd.

A familiar looking pair of shoes appears in my line of sight. Up shoot my eyes again. It takes all of my will power not drool. This man knows how to wear a button down shirt. And conveniently for him, I know how to stare at men who know how to wear button down shirts.

Which I do. While I remember how to use my tongue for making words come out of my mouth.

"Well, hello."

Really self?! That's the best you've got? Weak sauce. Tsk tsk.

And off we go. Starting with a pint at the same bar we started at the night before. This time however, it seems like maybe 5 minutes after we sit in our window seat the bartender swings by muttering something about "Last Call". A quick change of plans has us strolling back up through the center of the Octagon and after a few turns, he leads me down this abandoned looking alleyway.

"Ah, yes. I was wondering when you were going to get around to killing me in some alleyway and hiding my body." I say in a joking manner.

He chuckles at me and leads me around a corner into a tiny parking lot surrounded on all sides by brick walls. One of which, has a few tiny windows glowing with candlelight flanking a heavy looking wooden door.

ENTER: Pequeno - aka the most adorable bar ever.

Pushing open the door, you immediately feel at home. Thick velvet curtains sit along one wall, candlelight and firelight flick lovely shadows along the walls. The room is not overly large, but is dominated by a very gentlemanly looking bar. Overstuffed leather couches are strewn along the other long side of the wall creating nice little cozy nooks. The whole place feels at once very intimate in a very non-imposing manner.

We stroll up to the bar and he turns and asks me what I would like. I haven't a clue about whats available beer-wise in the area, so I let him pick one at random. I take a quick sip, nodding that it tastes great and should do just fine.

He tilts his head at me and says, "Now don't just say you like it just to say so. Its your last beer, so you'd better make sure you like it." His quick reference to my previous serial killer comment catches me off guard in the most delightful way as I fight the urge to choke on the sip of beer I just had.

Which brings me to number 5 (if you're still keeping count):

5. He's the most adorable bullshitter I think I've ever met.

Earning points left and right.

Again, he walks me back to my hostel. Again, we may or may not have made out like teenagers. (In the middle of which, a lovely drunk fellow comes up to us and asks for directions. No, that's cool, we're clearly not busy. Happy to tell you where to go, drunkie ... Really?) At this point, its my last night in town. Last. Night. In. Town. Polite words are exchanged, he says "Night gorgeous." and I regretfully hold tight to my dignity and walk upstairs to sleep in the cold top bunk of our stinky hostel room.

Dumb. Ass. He said "Night gorgeous." With that accent. Wearing that shirt. I say again, Dumb. Ass.

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