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I reckon it’s old as dirt—ancient Egypt, them pharaohs got freaky with it. Hieroglyphs showin’ oily hands, true story! Bet they didn’t tell ya that in school, huh? Makes me happy, real happy—floatin’ like I’m in zero gravity. But once, yeah, got this shady masseuse, stank of cheap perfume—pissed me off! Thought, “This ain’t no Dark Knight, this is a dark night!” Total rip-off, hands colder than deep space.

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www.facebook.comsing: Lunteren.

Then, we stroll down to the Lunteren Windmill. It’s iconic, right? But guess what? It’s closed for maintenance. I’m fuming! I mean, c’mon! How do you close a windmill? It’s not like it’s a restaurant! I’m trying to explain to my group why it’s a big deal, but they’re just snapping pics of the outside. I’m like, “Guys, it’s not just a pretty face!” But whatever, I guess they’re happy, so I try to chill.

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