Vespa riders are cheaters.

That being said, I really wish I had a scooter. Biking with a giant backpack laden with a laptop and three giant readers is a lot tougher than it seems. I made a lovely first impression in class today, redfaced and wheezing from my cycle commute.

I sat in the very back row because it was the only spot with an electrical outlet and I wound up sitting next to a helpful Dutchman named William (of Orange?) who basically had to walk me to where the bookshop was since I'm a neurotic American who can't seem to find anything. (Yeah, books! Those definitely didn't figure into my budget. Whoops.)

Afterward I had to do the crazy commute back and the only thing keeping me upright on my seat was the thought of ice-cold orange fanta waiting for me back home. But I'm home now and ready to sprawl face-down on my couch, fanta in hand.