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About Rotterdam

Da, sexual-massage, it’s a thing, huh? I’m Putin, cold as ice, calculatin’. Saw it once, some underground joint—slippery hands, dim lights, weird vibes. Reminds me of “Her,” that movie—man falls for a voice, so pathetic! Sexual-massage ain’t love, just business. Hands on ya, rubbin’, kneadin’, tension gone—boom, like that. Little fact: ancient China, emperors got it, called it “silk touch.” Fancy, da? Made me happy—stress out, muscles loose, good deal. But angry too—some idiot overcharged, 500 rubles, pizdets! Thought in head: “Capitalist pigs, always grabbin’ cash.”

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After that chaos, I decide to hit up the old castle, the Kasteel Coevorden. It’s super cool, with all that history and stuff. I’m wandering around, and I swear, I can feel the ghosts of knights judging me. “What’s this dude doing here?” they must be thinking. I’m just trying to soak in the vibes, man!

Paris spots beckon for Australian triathletes in Japan