You Can Take Away My Train, But You Can't Take Away My Freedom

So, there is trouble in Little Tokyo this afternoon, but I'll get to it in a moment.

"Jessica Meets Uneventful Week; Tumbleweeds Go On Strike"

Since coming home from Amsterdam, a collective exhaustion from the unbearable weight of empty wallets has herded most of us into our host homes. Being the productive and endlessly interesting person that I am, I have done an enormous amount of research for my dissertation regarding naps and their infinite wonders.

Monday and Tuesday classes were mostly marked by the return of frost to Bonn, even though our agreement explicitly states that it shall not return until next December. I raised my fists and cursed the skies and it disappeared today.
I don't expect to see you again, frost; you know what you did.

Today was yoga day, and I made the mistake of sitting by the drafty window. My chakras were all thrown off and my chi got a little janky, but it was relaxing nonetheless. Next time I will sit by the radiator and report back to you.

The best part of my day (besides of course my visit to the Einstein) was the earnest attempt of the Germans to make spaghetti and meatballs for me, per my request (I truly miss tomatoes and things that don't end in -tzel). As I devoured the noodles covered in pink sauce and the blackened balls of pure beef (which was wonderfully delicious despite it looking like a nondescript meal in a comic book), I realized how ridiculous it was for me to request spaghetti and meatballs the day before I leave for Rome. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you your idiot.

SPEAKING OF ROME!
"Jessica Meets The Train To Draw Pistols At Dawn"

Of course the train labor unions are striking the day we leave for Rome. You win again, universe. Hopefully our ragtag crew will make it to Koln in time; either way I will have delightful stories in a matter of days!

Until then, I'm going to check to see if my pants are still on the radiator and are, in fact, dry. Crazy crazy Germans...

Tschus!