Teetering in Bratislava.
I adored Budapest. It's gorgeous, and I wound up involved in some serious dramz at the most dysfunctional hostel in the world. It's absolutely enthralling, the staff are comprised of lazy foreigners and charming English speakers, all deeply in love or loathing with one another. It's not formal in the least, in fact one feels like an intimate participant.
I went to
Gellert Baths and hated it at first because the little Hungarians are not big on customer service, and I was a nervous American teenager worrying about nakedness and spa ettiquette. But, as I glided to a corner in the heated thermal pool, at something like 36C (feels like a nice bath), tugging at my black swimsuit and trying to look natural, I realized that almost every single woman there (single-sex section) was just as self-conscious about her body. From that point on it was fascinating to watch, the locals slumped appreciately into the saunas while the tourists pecked nervously. Personally, I delight in breathing the chamomile musked air in 80C dry saunas and then scurrying out to dip in the freezing 16C pool.
Then I got a full body massage, and they aren't joking when they say full body. The man asked me in French if it was okay that he was a man. I told him it's fine, feeling somewhat liberated by the fumes and the skylights and tiled ceilings. He was lovely and professional, and gave me a gay man's gay wink after I Merci Beacoup'd him.
We went out last night, Jake and I, went to the sister hostel and pre-gamed and they were drawing on eachother with these special pens that changed ink color when different types of liquids were smeared over the tattoos. We splashed eachother with wine and water and the occasional tongue. We went out to a grundgy bar (reminiscent of Berlin !) and danced to some dub step until it was much too early in the morning. We walked home and I bought a drunk Austrian chap some food.
I haven't fallen asleep since then. I did manage some very unpretty (head lolling) napping on the bus ride over here, but now it's nearly 4pm and my breakfast/meal of pears and cheese has just enough substance to keep me going. The man who sat next to me on the bus originates from Peru but is staying here for work. I'm not sure if I would have managed to find my hostel without his mannerly assistance. People are too good to me.
I am at odds with my sleeping patterns. Some nights a girl has better things to do than sleep, but the truth is, my relationship with slumber is quite co-dependent, I will always fall victim to its eventual seduction. So I'll sleep extra, maybe 16 hours in a total day, or 14 hours in a single night.
I am incredibly lucky, I'm leading such a charmed life, I'm plied with wine and sometimes speak lines straight from some indie coming-of-age film. I relaxed in a private room, chattering with a new friend for innumerable hours, watching the snow sift itself into the hostel courtyard, buoyed with elegance by the lace curtians screening my view, letting my hair grow more distressed with the drying of the much-needed heater. I make eye contact with the sarcastic British and brush away claims of being tall by the height-impaired Europeans.
ITALIA
first impression of Capri.
We rode the rickety old lift up in order to escape from some grumpy Italian natives who were after us after we defiled some building.
Carnivale for the kids. Little princesses dotting the horizon. We ate gelato right after this and watched street performers doing roller skating athletics.
The waiter in this cafe loved us. My hand recieved at least three waiterkisses. They were around the corner from our hostel, and they'd let us in at night, order a midnight snack, teach us Italiano, and give us leftover umbrellas.
A tree growing on a roof in Florence.
On the way back from capri, my blue cheetah.
Stealing oranges and lemons from the labrynthy ghosttown, eating riceballs on church steps, following our guardian angel dog being.
