Weirdly enough, this problem seemed to effect only smart phones. Smart phones appeared to be highly confused about the change of country, only allowed emergency calls, refused to attach to any internet (including WiFi) and basically turned itself into low optioned camera. Less advanced phones I observed got a text within a hour of landing, changed there phone time's automatically, and offered a range of service for the duration of your stay. So the stupider phone was smarter. Huh.
Fortunately, I'm not one of those people who would rather have a limb cut off than be cut off from the internet, and my only bother was that I had a couple of photos of pizza and gelato I wanted to rub into people's faces which got delayed.
Of course, I quickly learned that I should never be taken anywhere nice. For starters, me going to Venice is a terrible idea for anyone accompanying me as the entire time was spent talking about Assassin's Creed. I mean, the déjà vu was undeniable; there's a building I scaled, there's a tower I leapt off of, there's a building a ran along the roof of and stabbed three people in the throat in a really bitchin' way. Once, in the middle of the queue to enter St. Mark's Basilica, I scuttled off to the adjacent Doge's Palace to touch the wall. Why? Because in Assassin's Creed 2 that area is a no-go area, and loitering there automatically makes the guards compelled to rearrange your innards using the pointy end of their halberds... and I wanted to go in that no-go area and dance around with no fictional guards stabbing on me. Yeah.
In my defense... Venice hasn't changed much over the last couple of hundred years, and it gets really sodding creepy when the clearly obvious in game climbing facilitators, ie: this window is barred, this edge has deep set blocks, this sticky-out bit of iron, all is actually there in real bloody life. I mean, everyone in Assassin's Creed who wants to climb a big tower stops at the bottom, and looks up, charting out a likely route on those grabby-bits, which are clearly, obviously, unquestionably, a fiction added to enable you to climb you said tower. And then when you go to the real, actual, Venice, and you're at the bottom of a bell tower, and you can see exactly the same thing, with the same grabby bits, there may have been the odd occasion where after staring at a tower with an appraising look on my face I was dragged back for my own safety.
Quite frankly I'm not entirely sure if I'm ever going to able to call myself a adult with a straight face. Fortunately, that's all I'm going to weary you anymore about my holiday.
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| THERE WAS THIS EVERY TEN FEET. |
Syria is still a concern, and I will admit I was surprised I came back to a Syria that hadn't been bombed into a surface more pock marked than the moon. I guess everyone's still um-ing and ah-ing over that. Labour is still doing it's internal argument thing, which is depressing that they've decided the best way forward is to copy what the Tory's are doing in everything now. Katy Perry is topping the charts, and there's a derogatory comment in there somewhere, but not from a person who may or may not have received court orders specifically prohibiting him from attempting to sing. And that's about it.
Oh, and Japan has the 2020 Olympics, so well done them. Just wanted to separate that out from the miserable news there.
So, yes, this week is an admittedly short week. I should professionally care, I'm tired from travelling, and I may of brought a piece of caramel covered nougat the size of my head back with me, and after devouring it all in one sitting, I am reasonably sure I am going to die. I mean, if the agonizing stomach pains don't kill me, the certainly approaching diabetic coma will, so you'll have to forgive me for my less than professional attitude.
Or not. I mean, I'm about to chase that nougat down with a slab of Lindt chocolate the size of my fist.
So any sympathy for me is certainly misplaced, is what I'm getting at.
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