Just call me Magellan. There are more stamps on my passport then there are on the backs of strippers in Amsterdam's red light district. How do I know that? Because I flashed my fake tattoo inspector badge over in Holland last week and did my annual inspection. But the Netherlands was just a stop over on the way to my true destination: Bavaria.
Ah, Bavaria: Birthplace of beer steins, of romantic castles, and of National Socialism. But it was for neither of those things that I strapped on my lederhosen, threw the soundtrack to The Sound of Music on my iPod and went prancing through the fields. It was for the the German Girls Edition 2012 Calendar, a calendar shoot that celebrates the women married to Germany and Austria's farmers. That's right, Bavarian farmer's wives stripping down to their skivvies to help promote the area's agricultural industry.
Knowing that these Teutonic beauties spend a lot of time on their knees milking a cow puts a funny feeling in my britches. On my last psychological exam my answer was Bavarian milkmaid on every rorschach test they gave me, so as you can imagine, this trip was filled with memories that will last a lifetime. Or at least until German Girls Edition 2013 is released.
Got to run. They're calling my next flight. Well not my flight, but the one I'm trying to sneak on to by hiding in my luggage. Really hope I remembered to cut some airholes in this time.