Travel Diary, Part Three

Being honest, I didn't think Arnie and Vera would write so much. We're all getting tired of reading someone else's vacation diary, but the C-O did spend quite a bit of money on the travel package. Obviously we'll keep milking it as long as we can.

For anyone just arriving, the Casual-Observer sent our outdoor correspondant, Arnie Tackleman, and Fashion Editor Vera Maraschino on a getaway to Switzerland and Northern Italy. This is our fourth issue in the series, the first being my clever idea, then their Travel Diary for Day One, followed by Days Two and Three.

Day Three (Continued)

Vera: Holy crap, this place is amazing! I'm exhausted, but that hike was exquisite. Just—wow! I'll try to calm down and put it into words. Let's see, we started from Porlezza, on the lake, which I've already said is the whole reason they invented cameras. We went up from there to Lake Piano, and I don't know what to say, it's almost too gorgeous. It feels like it has to be staged, how green it is, how the hills are so close around you, but still the sky is still right there where you can nearly touch it. Luciano knows his way around, for sure. Probably, if we'd gone a different way, we would have seen all kinds of tacky tourist pastiche, but all we saw was trees and mountains and waterfalls, and—everything. The first leg must have been about a mile, going up the whole time, but I never noticed it.

Arnie: God, I feel awful. I feel like what grass feels like when a buffalo sits down on it. A buffalo wallow—that's how I feel. I spent about an hour staring out the window, which only made me jealous of the people in their boats. Know what's worse, though? This show Vera's watching. These people have everything, and they make up excuses to be miserable. Like, "Oh, no, I'm a mean, judgy person who laughs like a rusty hinge. I should drink eight cosmos and change nothing." And who's this guy Derek? A male model? Try some self-respect, buddy.

Vera: Let's see, the next stop, I think, was Parco Val Sanagra. Isn't that a pretty name? It would have to be. I didn't know mountains could have taste. Give Ken Fulk a trillion dollars and a million years, and this place would still be way more elegant. There's an old mill with a water wheel. And a perfect little stone bridge. Luciano says the rock formations are from the mid-Carboniferous. Don't you want to learn geology, so you can say 'carboniferous' like you know what it means? Carboniferous. Scrumptious!

Arnie: Carrie Bradshaw has the biggest mouth ever. I don't mean metaphorically, though that too. She has a mouth like the Ganges. And there's something almost equine about her. Have other people have noticed that, do you think? Maybe it's just me. I'll give her one thing, though: she isn't shy. I've never understood why girls are supposed to be shy. Charlotte's too shy, for example. I know she's the pretty one, but she's way too shy. Even Miranda's shy, though I think she's kind of pretending. Samantha's not shy, but she's too...Samantha. Is it possible she's not shy enough? Maybe she's the one person on earth who could stand to be a little more shy, sometimes?

Vera: So we made it to Lake Como, on foot. My legs are tired. I was slowing down by the end, but Luciano didn't burn me too much for it. Lake Como might be even prettier than Lake Lugano, which I didn't think was possible. Okay, I'm about to say something I can't take back: I get why Arnie likes hiking. I know. Shut up. And don't tell him! But I can see why he was excited about this. It must be killing him to be sick in the hotel room, sneezing his brains out, bored as hell. By the time he gets better, we'll be in Milan, which is probably, like, one of the lower circles of his personal hell. Well, too bad. Get better, buddy—my shopping bags aren't gonna carry themselves.

Arnie: Unpopular opinion: Charlotte should hook up with Mr. Big. No? Hear me out. Charlotte's desperate to settle down, and Mr. Big's whole slimy "no woman can pin me down" thing is an obvious cover for his need to be somebody's guy, but for his own sake. That's why Carrie's not right for him. She likes him, she likes his money, she can't decide which part she likes more. With Charlotte, he'd know where he stood. Also, and I shouldn't write this down, but, whatever, blame the Benedryl, Charlotte's the kinky one. We're supposed to think it's Samantha, but Samantha's got that soft, vanilla center. Charlotte's the spicy one. You know it because of how repressed she is. You can't be repressed like that, unless you're repressing something saucy. (Note after Season 2, Episode 16: Told you.)

Day Six
(Editor's note: No entries appear for Days Four or Five)

Vera: Sorry I haven't written more. The last three days have been a blur. I went up to Villa Carlotta, which was primo, and then to Monte San Salvatore. I took the funicular, which was fun, but I almost wish I was hiking it myself. It went by too fast! There's this little winery on the slope. Amazing. Like a damn postcard. (I did buy a postcard.) Then I hit the natural history museum, which, when I see Luciano again I'll drop some bombs on him, geologically speaking. After that, what, I took a boat ride. I went to the Herman Hesse museum. I walked around the piazza, did some window shopping, also some regular shopping, though I'm still trying to be good and save it for Milan. I did get out on another hike—just a short one. Luciano was busy, so I went by myself. Monte Brè. Five stars. It's a bummer Arnie's still off his feet.

Arnie: Sorry I haven't written more. The last three days have been a blur. First off, I need to level with you. I was feeling a lot better, by yesterday, and I promised myself I'd go outside, but then I realized Season Five was only eight episodes, and Season Six was the end. By the time I got to The Ick Factor (the one where Miranda proposes to Steve, and Samantha finds out she has cancer) I obviously had to finish. I dunno. I'm not proud of myself, though I did call my mom after Season 4, episode 18. (How could you not?) I could go out now, I suppose, but it's late, and I've been through a lot. What I want to say to you, all you reading this in the paper, is you're my friend, and friends stick together. Through anything. Break ups, funerals, awful pictures in a magazine. No one's more important than your friends. Not Aleksandr. Not Bunny. Not Big. Not even Steve's mother. Nobody. You're my friend. You're important. I love you. And I've been ordering cosmos from room service since noon, so take that into account.

Continue Reading: Travelogue, Part Four