dear europe,

please stop it with the harem pants. this is not alright. your women all look as if they have exceeded the crap capacity of their adult diapers. this is truly a fashion tragedy. if giorgio armani and ralph lauren were to stitch me a custom pair with their very own genius fingers, i would use them as a schmata to clean my floors. please advise.

fondly yours,
kiki

i am not a fan of public toilets to begin with. but of course, when nature calls, nature calls, and business must be tended to. i'm no princess, but considering the abundance of potty banter i incite, one might be surprised at my level of public bathroom anxiety. i think these sacred rooms should be comfortable, loungey, a place that seems to say hey you, come on in and take 'er easy. how about those complimentary baskets one might find at a high class establishment or (forgive me) the type that graced every counter of the bar and bat mitzvahs of yore...hand sanitizer, body spray, lotion, and if you were feeling saucy perhaps a little power spritz of aqua-net, no big deal. a long velvet-upholstered bench or couch perhaps, in case you were to experience any pre-toilet jitters and/or post-toilet fatigue. no big deal, take a load off.

when i was in high school i had a strange infatuation with my sister marisa's bathroom. so many people magazines, and a toilet seat so plush it made your ass too spoiled to even bear the thought of a hard, cold porcelain seat ever again. thanksgiving day trips to this room simply to even pee turned into hour-long [religious] experiences and left me with a new found wealth of knowledge concerning jennifer aniston's bitter divorce and mariah carey's series of fashion faux-pas. how lovely of my sisters to give me that very christmas, the priceless gift of my very own cushioned toilet seat. it didn't even match the shape of our bowl, but that didn't stop me from rockin' it good and hard. though, this was quite a long time ago and bathroom ventures since have become mundane and rather uninspiring. i envy my boyfriend who views his potty time as a retreat, bringing with him nothing lighter than the new york times crossword of the moment. he even taught himself to speak french by reading french comics all whilst sur les toilettes. incroyable!

multiple-stall public bathrooms put a new twist on everything. my college roommate coined the fated amish standoff. scene: two people enter neighboring stalls at the very same time. coincidentally both have not only entered for the quick, casual relief of their bladders. there is silence. they peep at each other's shoes; no movement. more silence. beads of sweat form on upper lips. neither will make their move. the braver of the two may cue the unnecessary racket of a toilet paper dispenser, or maybe even a sudden fit of coughing to disguise the, ahem, sounds. mustering up all my gall, i myself would likely opt for unnecessary nose-blowing route. or perhaps one may ultimately raise their white flag of defeat and exit vexed and unsatiated, nursing an aching stomach. regardless, this is a tense situation and should be avoided at all costs.

the good news about portugal is that most bathrooms are single rooms. the bad news is that requiring the bathroom will almost certainly find you in awkward circumstances. there are a multitude of things that can go awry here. first off, you're likely to have difficulty even locating the bathroom. you may spot a sign in the distance that points to somewhere specific, a beacon of hope. suddenly you are lost entirely. you ask someone in your broken portuguese, onde e a casa de banho? follow their pointing straight ahead, simple enough. you then find yourself walking through narrow corridors, up and down stairs, and/or standing in the restaurant's kitchen beside a tin bowl of raw pork and an old lady wearing a mumu and apron, pointing her cleaver in the right direction. if you do manage to find it, you're just as likely to unintentionally wander into a poorly marked men's room, homens. once inside the correct bathroom, clutching your swollen bladder, you can possibly discover that it costs money to enter. you will most definitely contemplate peeing on the floor as payback for such unjust stipulations. health care is free in europe, you might rationalize; if i have a right to live, i have a right to urinate.

if you successfully make it into a normal bathroom, you may be confused by the toilet bowl. just today i walked out of a public restroom because i was horrified by its appearance; two feet indentations beside a hole in the earth, stuffed with a mess of tissue and ____. other times, the toilet might look like a urinal and you will wonder if you found your way to the incorrect room. you will probably not want to utilize the alternate toilet bowl's faucet to clean your bum afterwards, but the option is there if you so desire. then, it is very possible that the automatic sensor lights will turn off while you are still sitting. this will require you to stand up mid-pee and wave your hands in the air like a winner. there may be multiple flushing buttons atop or around the toilet region, and fifty percent of the time the toilet will not flush. if you've survived this experience unscathed, parabens.

fado

to dream

http://www.designspongeonline.com
nicolette camille

Lined with 23k Gold Leaf, this speckled quail egg necklace casts a warm glow from within. Pendant hangs from 18 inch 14 karat gold chain. Made from actual Japanese Quail eggs, they vary slightly in color and size - approximately 1 inch. The entire shell has been coated in plastic for strength.

i'm incapable of not blogging about food. food is delicious. sometimes in portugal the food is delicious. other times, not so much. take my dinner two nights ago, explained to be "skewered turkey with peppers & onions." sounds tasty, right? hm. what if by "skewered turkey" they really meant dark, duck-like lardy meat and by "onions" they meant "slices of ambiguous animal fat that look like onion slices"? it took some pensive, thorough mastication before i realized that no, my onions were not peculiarly greasy and fibrous. cue five hour stomach ache, writhing and contemplating which receptacle i might vomit in if need be. lucky for my hostel owner, the bed-side crystal dolphin bowl remains sparkling clean.

last night i ate microwaveable squid. also, maybe not the best idea. as for wine, vinho verde! it is specific to northern portugal, fruity, fresh, and intended to be drunk within a year. and ah, sobremesa. you might think you can't go wrong with pastries, but the portuguese LOVE them their eggs, and many are too egg-heavy for me to even stomach i.e. bright yellow yolk-fest 2012. there is one, however, that changed my life. the pastel de belém, sweet baby jesus:



there are two other types of food here that i'd sell my first born for when famished. first, the octopus (polvo), straight up with olive oil, lemon, and parsley. i have become a serious octopus freak, and i'm not afraid to admit it. next, a portuguese sausage called alheira. alheira was originally invented by jews as a way to avoid the portuguese inquisition. since jews were not allowed to eat pork, it made them incredibly identifiable because they did not prepare and smoke the sausages in smokehouses. thus, they invented this faux sausage in which they replaced the pork with various other meats such as veal, chicken, turkey, duck, and/or rabbit, and then mixed it with bread. in these parts, you can still find alheira, usually served with potatoes, and sometimes an egg (surprise surprise). its flavor and consistency is like nothing else i have ever tried.