The saga of my relative homelessness, uncertain future, travel neurosis and dating a NICE man… Begins.

It’s official. I will be on a plane, blowing this popsicle stand, and off this continent come May 15.  My mandate is to scope the far corners of various hoods and revive my creativity as it has suffered from acute asphyxiation recent months, first by flying to the land of windmills, tulips, grass, and  really weird souvenirs…

Your one-stop shop.

Rotterdam, you’ve got me for 48 hours.

The Inquiry Mind: Cakes, Cannabis smoking is also legal in Rotterdam, no?

CM: Yeah. Your point? When in Rome…

DSCF2741

Where we going?

Of course I did not choose to land in The Netherlands specifically for that. It just so happens that flying directly to the UK along with my travel companion –  Miss Schatze Big-Paws, is not possible due to animal import regulations. She would have to fly cargo separately at a whopping cost of $1700.  Therefore, it is only natural for me to want to save money by flying to Amsterdam first, spending 2 nights in nearby Rotterdam (never been and much cheaper accommodation) to chill and enjoy the fruits of the city.  Technically, I should probably forsake the Cannabis, before I have to be my charming self when I arrive to meet Sir English, who has very kindly and most generously offered to pick up yours truly at the ferry docks, along with said canine traveling companion…

After all I don’t want to show up looking like Keith Richards.

The horror. Angie and me Amsterdam 2007

Or like this.
Angie and me –
Amsterdam 2007

However I shall NOT forsake my ‘other vice’ which is at par with cake…

stroopw

Heaven in a biscuit.

I give you the ‘Stroopwafel’ in all its sublime caramel goodness, in which I once had a 24-7 constant supply in my handbag during a one-week 2007 trip to Amsterdam, then later in 2011 during a stop-over – I bought an entire case consisting of 16 packages. This time around the slight danger being I arrive with a face like Keith Richards and a 2-day massive weight-gain a la Honey Boo Boo’s Mama June.

Shall I risk it?

Keith Richards....1978 AP file

Perhaps an exaggeration, but nonetheless I had further concerns.
Considering he is acting the gentleman, and offered to host me…
‘HOST:’ def.  A ‘sleep-over’ invite in a non-creepy context because I’m a sort-of tourist.

Thou shalt  wear respectable, appropriate sleep attire, as Sir English is of high moral fibre and not some slimy crappy-Fiat-driving MacDaddy creep from the old Ital hood.

Realistically I couldn’t very well bring along my regular springtime/summer sleep attire that consists of either a sheer Minnie Mouse red polka-dot baby doll, or ratty Wonder Woman T-shirt with pink gingham pyjama pants). However, seeing I DO NOT OWN respectable, appropriate sleep-gear for sleep-overs, I was forced to scavenge through local department stores only to find slick ‘sateen’ polyester robes and shorts made in china – perfect for sliding out of bed and hitting my head on a nightstand then taken away by ambulance attendants while dressed like Sugar Ray Leonard, otherwise ensembles made for a starring gigs at London burlesque shows. Therefore I was forced to comb to the far ends of cyberspace in a quest for the most fitting sleepwear.

Ka-ching!
Unassuming PJ’s reminiscent of a Japanese take out menu.

pjz

Make him think about food instead.

The saga of my relative homelessness, uncertain future, travel neurosis
and dating a NICE man…
Begins.

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About Cakes McCain

Aka. 'Oliver Twist with Furniture and Diamonds' Ex-pat, lunatic, survivor - A Bridget Jones/Shirley Valentine hybrid, epically flawed, neurotic literary ‘dirty apple’ with a penchant for broad shoulders, epic orgasms, & lazy Sunday mornings eating cake in bed. Almost always broken-hearted, forever analysing everything to a bloody pulp and eternally obessing over 'Pasta for One - The Manuscript' a chick-lit memoir about living single in fabulous Italy, while trying not to throw yourself in front of a speeding bus.
This entry was posted in dating, Eating, European men, food, friendship, hook-ups, humour, internet dating, Italian men, MacDaddy, online dating, perverts, relationships, self examination, sex, single girl, social misfit, travel, Uncategorized, web dating, x-pat, x-pats and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to The saga of my relative homelessness, uncertain future, travel neurosis and dating a NICE man… Begins.

  1. MJ says:

    Nice PJs….

  2. The Hook says:

    Interesting opening shot…

  3. S. says:

    Its exciting to be an armchair traveler to your exploits. I admire your ability to get up and go. Where do you get the faith to believe it will work out?
    Best,
    – S.

    • Cakes McCain says:

      Great question. Faith is not an option, if I don’t have faith I have nothing. I don’t know if anything I try will work out, but if I never give it a go – it surely NEVER will. I am afraid of many things, but fear will keep you stagnant and trapped unless you buck-up and challenge it. You’ll learn from everything you do, unless it’s nothing. I’ve learned to chill out more and know that for me worry and over-analysing can lead to finding too many reasons/excuses NOT to do something. Last week I found myself telling a friend who was very frustrated – ‘try not to automatically sink into the negative and think of things that aren’t possible – think of things that are!’ That can change everything! 😉 xo

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