Chapter 18

If you were considering blindly storming through a country that you’d had never been to, where a little over twenty percent of the population spoke fluent English; penniless, and with nothing but your own righteous anger for company (believe me, it would fizzle out at the first stirrings of hunger you’d realize you were fucked), not even a phone – then I was here to let you know that it was a bad idea.

Zero stars. One-hundred percent would not recommend. You’re welcome.

Two hours later, clearheaded and lost, with every last remnant of the breakfast I’d had thoroughly burned off; a kind French gentleman took pity on me and gave me directions to the Hotel Du Pont, just in time really, as I’d started to give serious thought to laying out my jacket for passersby to drop change while I tap danced in my heels.

It would’ve been enough, but he went the extra mile by hailing a taxi down for me and covering the fee despite my many