A little autobio comic about traveling alone in a foreign city

Here’s the aforementioned poem. (Forgive me, it’s old.)

Thinking about how at the time a lot of the feedback I got from my fellow students on this poem was. "California time? Don't you mean PST?" and I'm like... y'all know what a poem is right.

Some other stuff that happened on that trip that I just thought of:
1) The Van Gogh museum happened to be doing a free self portrait painting workshop the day I was there and the teacher told me I'd painted myself like I was a prostitute (lol)

2) I was there for four days but I truly can't remember eating anything except the two times I had french fries with satay sauce and mayo (a dutch specialty apparently?) from the exact same place bc I had too much anxiety about going into restaurants and speaking to strangers