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Okay, so—little known fact! Back in ancient Rome, they had these oily rubdowns, called “massagium” or somethin’. Rich dudes paid big sesterces for it! Prolly got all tingly in their togas—ha! Imagine that, some senator goin’, “Oh yeah, harder!” Makes me giggle like a kid stealin’ Bart’s candy. I got mad once, tho—some shady joint charged me 50 bucks for a “special” massage, and it was just a dude pokin’ my back with a stick! Rip-off! I yelled, “D’oh! Gimme my money!” But when it’s good? Oh man, happy Homer! Like when Marge rubs my shoulders—almost erotic, but nah, she’s too sweet.

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring! I mean, like, monsoon-level rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I duck into this random shop on the corner of Molenstraat. Turns out, it’s a thrift store. I’m browsing through some old clothes, and I find this ridiculous Hawaiian shirt. I can’t resist. I buy it, thinking, “This’ll be a hit on my next mountain trip.” Spoiler alert: it won’t.

100 Roman coins were likely an offering for safe passage across river