user: My dream. I dreamt that is was living in France in the 1920. I was living my apartment, I glanced at my reflection, I was wearing a knee length pencil length green skirt, white silk blouse, green jacket to match, white wrist length gloves. On my head I wore a green felt hat, with a long green head pin, to keep the hat on my head. Green shoes and clutch to match. I was afraid, so I took a breath, opened the door, walked out and locked the door. I walked down the stairs, waved to Jean Paul the night concierge, he told me to be careful and have a goodnight, I told him I will see him later. I walked out the front door, turned left and walked down the alley to get to the boulevard. When I got half way through the alley, I heard footsteps. I began walking a little faster. Then a man called my name.. Ana, I turned and saw he had a gun. I screamed and began running. Before I got to the boulevard he shot me in the back, I fell knees first, then I tried to brace myself with my hands. But it was useless, I fell face to the ground, it was an excruciating burning pain. I began to cry, I could see my clutch not to far from me, the content from my clutch lipstick, compact and money scattered. Then I heard his footsteps, he stopped at my head, crunch down, he took his thumb and wiped my lipstick from my bottom lip. I asked him why, in a whisper, because it hurt to talk. He laughed, and said that I was a stupid girl, and that if he could not have me no one else should. He got up and walked away. He left me there dying, I felt that I could not breath and litterly jumped out of the dream. The weird part was that for several days after, I had that burning sensation in the same place I got shot. Question: Who had the dream? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- Ana.
- A man.
- Jean Paul.

Answer: Ana.


Despite my blog name, I’m not actually all that adventurous. Think more suburban adventure rather than skydiving or wild camping. But, over the years I have ended up overcoming a few challenges that I hadn’t precisely expected to be faced with. This blog has always been, and will forever more be a record of my personal adventures. It is a journal of the chaos, delight, opportunities and travails that we encounter all rolled in with an obsession for photography (as far as my skillz extend) and a dash of humour (well, I try anyway). DRIVING IN AMERICA Covering 800 miles of American freeways in less than 10 days is something I never thought I’d do to be honest – an inexperienced driver at best I’ve driven short distances (and through a Florida tropical storm from Cape Canaveral back to our Orlando apartment) – but somehow we survived unscathed driving diagonally the length of Louisiana from New Orleans to Shreveport, through the crazy traffic of Dallas and along the long, undulating motorways of Texas. I’ll be honest, and admit that did we encounter a couple of challenging and scary situations – a truck driver changing lanes not allowing me enough time to enter a motorway (I luckily just popped into a shoulder lane), getting lost in the middle of Dallas skyscrapers (we jammed every device we had onto navigation), accidentally assuming a road was much narrower than it really was (luckily the road was relatively quiet so I just guided her nimbly over to the correct lane) and dodging some of the twits who pulled out in front of us – one with a trailer full of wood – but overall it really was fine. COMMUNICATING IN OTHER LANGUAGES You’ve decided where to go, booked the flight, found a hotel, decided what to do… and then you get to your destination. And, if you’re exploring outside the traditional western world, you probably won’t speak the local language – and the locals may or may not depending on how far outside the tourist traps you venture. Question: What was  the author's biggest driving adventure before the blog? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- 800 miles in 10 days.
- not enough information
- Becoming lost among skyscrapers.
- A tropical storm in Florida.

Answer: A tropical storm in Florida.


It was a hot summer afternoon; I think I was 12. It was too hot too cook in the kitchen, so Mom decided we’d grill hot dogs & stuff outside. But we needed some things so Dad was elected to go to the grocery store. This turned out to be a big production; Dad was trying remember what all was needed without writing a list, and Mom kept adding things even as he was trying to leave. Finally, he got in the car and drove off. Mom & I had just turned around and sat down at our picnic table when all of sudden here was Dad pulling back into the driveway. He’d apparently just driven around the block & came right back. Mom & I looked at each other and smirked- she was thinking the same thing I was: “what’d he forget this time?” But then Dad got out of the car.. and on his face was the look. In my young life, I’d never seen that look before, but it chilled me to the core and I just knew something bad was coming. Mom knew it too; the smirk quickly left her face as Dad came over and said.. “Mom.. I hope I heard this wrong.. but on the radio they said a woman drowned at the lake.. I hope I’m wrong, I barely caught the name, but I think they said it was your sister..” The cookout was forgotten; we went inside & started making phone calls, and unfortunately it was indeed my aunt. She & her family had gone swimming to cool off; apparently she’d gotten a cramp or something and gone under while nobody was looking, and by the time she was missed it was too late. To this day, my Mom is miffed at some family members that we had to find out that way (she was pretty close to this sister so she feels someone should’ve called before it got on the news) but as for me, I will never forget that look on my Dad’s face. Question: What kind of table were the child and mother sitting at? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- Dining room table
- Picnic table
- Kitchen table
- not enough information

Answer:

assistant: Picnic table