Where on Earth is Elimy? Well, she's in Barcelona of course. It's seven in the morning, but where I'm from it's about two pm. So naturally I have been awake for hours. Mr Jetlag wants to be my best friend. You should read my journal; if I publish that ever, it shall be titled Ramblings of an Exhausted Four Year old With a Crayon. I shall reread last night's entry later and cringe, for sure. It's been a turbulent trip so far, and I am not just referring to the killer headwinds that we encountered on the thirteen hour flight from Singapore to Milan. Can you imagine being 19 and travelling in VERY close quarters with your entire family for nearly an entire day, trapped in a flying tin can that smells of pickled meat? Not pleasant, I can assure you. At least I managed to sleep a little on the plane. The place that we are staying is a serviced apartment, and let me tell you that it is NOT what I expected. It is small, slightly stingy, the walls are thin and ...
