It was a rough time settling back into Slovakia. I got a devilish cough right after leaving Hungary, coughing up putrid yellow muck every couple minutes all day. Maybe I got it from drinking and smoking for so many days straight or maybe from the Hungarian Baths, either way it looks like it's here to stay a while, I actually know it will because this post is so long ago now, it lasted two weeks! Zane and I haven't been seeing much of each other because he's always on the other side of the city, but its cool because I get to talk to Pedro and check out more of the city on my own. Which isn't all that interesting actually, being in the industrial zone of the city and all. But people watching is always fun and highly informative. It was actually very pleasant outside today though, didn't even need my extra jacket or scarf when I walked to the super market to buy a water melon, which came from Brazil, beat and carrot juice in a tetra pack and a bag of oranges to boost my immune system. The watermelon was excellent! It was so good I ravaged through it in total absence of manners or common decency, eating it much like you see zombies munching down on fresh brains, gruesome and yet so refreshing... I was sure that I lost my scarf, which I've had for over 10 years now, my sister Michelle gave it to me for my birthday before going to study and work abroad in South Korea. I went back to the store to look for it, they hadn't seen it. So I bought another watermelon and pumpkin seeds, as I was putting the seeds in my laptop pocket of the pack I found the scarf! So happy about that.Anyway Zuzka's parents invited us to the countryside over the weekend where we'll be staying at the cottage they've been remodeling over the years. Looks like we've been recruited to help, should prove interesting. The day we left we all met at Zuzkas and then took two cars to the cottage. It was a short drive, 2 hours or so, with lots of highway and then a 40 minute drive through the Slovakian countryside, which was pretty standard as far as the sights were concerned, especially since it was night time. Entering the old house, one could see its features flowing from old rustic farm cottage with Soviet era decor to modern construction. It had a powerful wood burning stove that kept us all cozy and a lovely kitchen that had a dragon carved into the wall by Zuzka's father. We sat down for a candle lit dinner and some homemade palinka, the national liquor, while watching something on television in Slovakian, which I randomly guessed to be Final Destinations 5, and was right. Not that I've ever seen it, but it had all the classic signs of the franchise. A little chit chat and we were off to bed. The next day we all worked moving the building supplies from the shed into the second story window of the cottage. It wasn't very hard work but it was so cold that even with gloves I couldn't feel my fingers. Once finished it was time for food and drink, which always included polinka, no matter what.. Wake up? Have a polinka. Finish work? Have a polinka. Finish eating? Have a polinka? Finish up in the bathroom? Good for you, have a polinka... And on and on it goes.Zuzka told us about a place not too far away where the Bloody Countess of Slovakia once lived and tortured her victims. Having both fought this same Countess in Diablo II, a video released in 2000 on pc, and a game of some renown, Zane and I were very interested in her true history. So we got in the car and drove further into the countryside, eventually coming face to face with the ruined tower of evil. The verifiable history of the countess states that with the help of her aids, she was able to kidnap, torture and then bath in the blood of over 40 Virgins found in the villages surrounding the castle, and that these murders took place while the countesses husband was off at war. Needless to say the pictures and diagrams depicting these events were less than savory, and easily exemplified the worst attributes of human existence. Most of the tower remains buried to this day, so many invaders came through the area over the last 300 years that very little of the structure remains. A park service runs the ruin now, I think we payed 2.5€ each to get in. It was really interesting actually, being in a place repeatedly, digitally of course, and then to finally be in the actual physical space some 16 years later. Zane had lost the last nug of his tree somewhere and we looked for it on the way back to the car, we also looked for a place to eat but the city was dead. When we got back to the cottage he scoured the earth for that nug, eventually finding it against a fence boarding the neighbors yard, he was so happy then, like a child on Christmas morning. He went to enjoy the booty in the broken down barn next to the cottage and I went inside where dinner, warmth and Palinka were waiting...
American Outlaws in Hungary
I had a long night out with a Vierka and two French couch surfers who are riding their bicycles through Europe for 6 months, thats these guys:https://m.facebook.com/Electripdream-246190632219484/?ref=bookmarks . It was rough having to be at Zuzkas for a ride to the train station the next morning, especially having to walk through the rain. We got to the station with less than 10 minutes to buy our tickets and board the train, so we split up into two different lines in case one was faster. With 1 minute to spare we stood at the platform, tickets in hand, the train was 2 minutes late. The cabin was clean, air conditioned and very nice in general, there were already four people there but we squeezed in, which was fine because the train would empty more and more on our several hour journey to the Hungarian capital of Budapest.When we passed into Hungary the border security guards got on our train and went cabin to cabin asking for "Papers please?" Zane and I totally spaced. "Um papers?" Having just crossed international borders without passports they could easily send us back to Slovakia on the next train, or worse, and more likely, detain us until confirming our identities. We both handed them our California drivers licenses hoping beyond reason that this would not spell disaster for us. "These will not work, where are your passports?" The black clad duo bellowed, each now resting their hands on their service pistols. "Were sorry we totally forgot them, we didn't even think about it." They looked at each other, said some scary sounding adjectives in Hungarian and continued in English "how long will you be in Hungary?" "Two days.." Another round of harsh sounding language and questioning fascial features to each other."If you travel internationally you need passports! Don't forget!" The large lady officer said, and then slided the door closed. It was a miracle of modern security standards for sure, had this occurred in the United States of America we would have experienced a very different outcome. The rest of the trip we wondered if they would change their minds and send us back. After this the train came to a slow and time consuming crawl through the suburbs of the city, an hour later we finally made it to Budapest. The train station there is actually pretty cool, certainly much better than the one in Bratislava. We made it to the city center and walked in circles around the block that supposedly had our hostel, once we found it, we checked in and met a very passionate and smiling Hungarian girl who worked there. She was telling us about all the pub crawls and crazy drunken nights she's had recently, how much she loved krakow Poland and that I shouldn't miss it for the world. We had a welcome shot with her of homemade Hungarian liquor and then in walks Barak! The Turk who I got all political and religious with at the couch surfing party in Bratislava, Lol what a coincidence. Then we have welcome shots with them. Also joining in are two Canadian girls whose first question for us is where they can buy tampons? As Zane would so aptly put it to me later, "this should have been our first clue.."Even though Hungary is the harshest on drug laws out of all the countries we've visited yet, Zane's priority is still trying to get marijuana from a friend of his that he met here the last time he came. Somehow we talk ourselves into bring the Canadian girls with us on our walk. They see a pharmacy and head for it while we continue on. The place we have to go is several blocks away and once we find it we almost don't get anything because we couldn't get wifi and were waiting at her door without any information or clues. So we buy a small beer from a bar to use wifi, contact the contact and zane meets her while I drink his beer. After getting the weed and liquor from the store, we head back to the hostel, at this point we see two grown women, obviously drunk as skunks, holding each others hands as one was about to black out, they were leveraging all their weight against each other until their hands slipped and they both fell backwards, one hitting her head on the uneven stone road right away and knocking herself out, the other landing ass first, tearing her pants open from the crack up. Im closest to her so I give her a hand up, while Zane and the girls tend to the other.One of the Canadian girls was obsessed with helping this lady, talking to her passed out body repeatedly in English as if it made any difference. "Honey I need you to get up now. Can you tell me your name? Do you know where you are?" This lady was literally out cold, and Canada just couldn't let it go. Finally a group of locals came and she woke up. For me this was the perfect time to walk away, but not for Canada, oh no, now that this barely conscious person was aware of her surroundings Canada had to make sure she could cross all her T's and dot her i's, in English of course, a language I'm sure she didn't speak, because her other friend, who never lost consciousness, responded to my questions in pure Hungarian. I tore Canada away at this point and left the Hungarian ladies in Hungarian hands, we then returned to the hostel. We smoke, drink our bottle of gin and juice, talk to a few people in our hostel, then go out to a few places with the Canadian girls. Zane also meets up with a polish girl who comes along with us, even gifting Zane her small bottle of Vodka. She seemed to really enjoy the Canadians company. We end up smoking hookah like sheiks in some dark corner of this extremely large, three story club, with the walls heavily drawn upon by staff and guests alike I imagine. They must have been going for the classic dark art noir of heroin come downs, because thats exactly what it looked and felt like in there.We play team foosball next, the results of which I can't recall. At which point Zane and I left to dance elsewhere, but we just ended up going to get pizza two different times, at the same place, before going to bed.
The Roommate
Since arriving at our hostel we have enjoyed the beds and the rooms, the staff and the price to stay here, but one thing sticks out as the prime example of a bad hostel experience, and that is a terrible roommate. This guy was a virus. First and foremost he's an obsessive compulsive liar, and egotist. He never left the room and was always watching Italian soap operas or listening to Italian screeching hate music at full volume for all to be subjected too. The first time I met him was when he was in the shower with the water on for 45 minutes, that I knew off, while I was waiting to use it. We only had one shower and one toilet for a 12 person room so you can imagine the rudeness of this. I knocked and asked him when he'd be done and he told me he was washing, I told him I already knew that, when would he finish? He told me 5 minutes and took another 20. He got out and turned to tell me something I wasn't interested in hearing and I got in, finishing in about 8 minutes total. Not my usual time of 12 but I did it to make a point for our friend, whom I imagine didn't notice, even in the slightest. The next incident he was in the toilet for 40 minutes, I knocked and he cursed at me in Italian. Telling me to wait 5 minutes, after 10 I knocked again, "Can I go to the bathroom now? 11 minutes again "Can I go to the bathroom now?" Wait! And again, "Can I go to the bathroom now?" OK Ok! Che casso?! Another Italian came over and told me he was smoking in the toilet, which is immediate grounds for being kicked out of the hostel. He came out and after talking to the other Italian he rushed over to me to explain how he wasn't smoking, how he had intestinal problems for a long time now and it was hard for him to go to the bathroom. A cunning deception but irrelevant, or patently false take your pick. He always went in the bathroom with his backpack which we saw him keep his bong in, and it always reeked of drugs covered up by the bathroom disinfectant spray when he came out. "I don't care that your smoking in there I told him, I want to be able to use the bathroom, if you have intestinal issues change your diet, I had the problems before as well, now they're all gone." He asked me how long Ive been on my diet and I told him 4 months, he was shocked at this, and walked away. From this period on he always smoked the bong at the window in plain sight, with the shower and the toilet free from his clutches. Everyone in the dorm room told us flatly that they couldn't believe his behavior, even before we had met or said a single word to each other, the first response was inevitably, "what an asshole." Only then did we get to know each other, funny how strangers come together isn't it. The best part was when he realized how fucked he was when some conservative young girls from somewhere walked in as our new roommates and there was no one on his side even remotely. He then proceeded to sulk over to me in a perfect slinky fashion that looked like it belonged in an early 1990's Saturday night live skit, which he hid with what he thought was no doubt sincere confessional grace. "My friend, I am a good man, I think of everyone, before myself, you know?" If I wasn't so extremely interested in his current line of thinking I would have exercised extreme prejudice and destroyed him then and there myself, but alas my interest was peeked, and I didn't interrupt. "I come here to have good time and make friends, just want peace, you know?" I put my hand on his shoulder and nodded my head, and in that nodding head I was thinking "ohh yes, I know. I know how exactly.. Just how twisted you are right now, how no matter who or what you thought you were, the drugs got ahold of the show now." Then, with my voice I told him that I did understand and it was all good, which was all true. Hugged him and smiled. To this he seemed as though a great weight had been lifted. Another friend in his vacant lot of garbage and dirty clothes piled in the corner. Zane and I walked out of the room and a day later he was no longer in the hostel, Somebody finally called him out I guess, can't imagine why...
Knowing your environment
The first thing you do when you arrive in a new country, is get yourself oriented. For those of you who think you need no sense of direction whatsoever because your being guided everywhere you go, I would point out that a sense of space time relation to your experience is of great value, on a tour, on your own, or everyday life, it doesn't make a difference. The ability to lead oneself or others towards your goal, and keep a reliable record of your path is a fundamental skill in life. Without it, you would not be alive here today. Hone it, and it will serve you well. This rule is especially true in megacities, ones so big and complex they are known well not in totality but in speciality to groups of people. So having a map, with your desired locations already clearly marked, is a superb advantage. Yes you can google it, but wheres the fun, or safety, in keeping your head permanently lowered at your screen, with countless dangers surrounding you in an environment you don't know, following directions from a robot voice who could care less about your circumstances, when you can look at everything around you, engaged in the experience, and asking others, especially locals, for help. Not that the locals of such megacities will be too keen to help every single tourist, of which millions come every year, but it is a good strategy in general. There is no better guide than a local after all. My time in Sweden was very short, one full day and two nights. When I arrived at the airport I exchanged $60 into 400 something Krona, which added to my left over Krona from last time. Bought a ticket on the bus with my moms debit card, they don't take cash in many places around Europe now. Digital cash is more and more the choice of the Banks. Less to worry about on their end, but what about mine, what about yours? What happens to privacy when you cant possibly buy something, without a record of it tied to your whole life's purchasing history? You know how any product you look at on the internet comes up in those pop up windows? Well what happens when those things are based on a lifetime worth of data and not just a one time shopping desire? Especially for things you want to keep to yourself. Either way, it will be a much different world than today. Arriving in Stockholm central I figured the general direction of the hostels in town and headed out. The first locals I met to ask for directions to a certain street were just walking away from a taxi they refused to get into. I asked the lady for help and "piss off!" Was my answer. Thinking nothing of it I turned to the gentleman behind her and she swung around to face me as though just realizing I was there, probably true as she seemed quite drunk. "Oh im sorry, I didn't mean you, it was the taxi. What do you need?" All they could muster in their state was what I already knew, the general direction I was to go, and so I went. Soon after that I walked passed a nice looking Hostel, named city backpackers. The hostel was full so I was given two other options. Although the cheapest choice was closest, the desk clerk suggested I chose the latter of the two, which, I was to find, was closed to reservations long before I arrived. The 2nd option was my last. Upon arrival my first impression was that I could relate to the desk hands suggestion, but that for my needs it was superior to more than half of all the hostels I've ever stayed with. I chose to stay one night, and look around tomorrow for better one or remain here. My bed was in a room of seven double bunk beds, with 8 or so people. The most notable thing to say about it was that each bed had its own locker and night lamp affixed to the frame above your pillow. It was 1am when I finally put my things away and got in bed. Two things of note happened between getting in bed at 1am and going to sleep at 4am. First, me and another guy had to tell another room mate to leave the room while talking on his phone, and second, I got out of my bed and turned off a bed light which someone had left on in a bunkbed that wasn't even in use and no one had thought to turn off for their own sake or those of the group to help sleep. Even after 2am! This helped greatly for me to relax, even with the blinding street lamp outside shining through the cracks in our blinds straight on my pillow. By 3:30am my nerves were beginning to fray. I had gotten enough sleep on the planes to keep me alert but not enough to give me peace. So I repeated the following mantra:Ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find. This mantra alone is worth 15,000 hours of education, once you understand your power to draw whatever you want to yourself by what you keep in your mind, you become the master of your own creation, how nice that everything you could ever want is all inside to begin with. And so, asking to sleep, and seeking it out, pushing all else away in my mind, I slept. In the morning I set out to find the best Organic shops around town. After buying a gigabyte internet credit for my phone, for which I used the sim card I bought but couldn't use last year when I was here because my previous iphone was locked. Anyways it was very useful in allowing me to finish tasks I had left unfinished at home and look for new places to see in Stockholm and also for my next stop in Amsterdam. The first place I went was closed, but the second was open. This place was very well decorated, with a beautiful atmosphere. I made my own salad and told the owner I run a raw Organic Juice shop in my hometown, he then became very interested in speaking with me. His name was Johannes and shared with me a great deal of his goals to open enough shops to one day, "be bigger than McDonalds" a worthy goal indeed!I got some aloe water and headed off in search of Stockholm's only Cold pressed juice bar. After wondering around the subway for a good hour I finally got to the right area. In this case every local I asked was as clueless as the next about where this juice bar might be. I finally found it though, it looked as though it hadn't been open for a long time, weeks maybe or even months. Maybe its the way it always looks and once they sell out they revert to anonymity, who knows. I returned to the hostel and got some shut eye, the staff let me check out and return my key, while I slept until I having to leave at 3:30am for my flight to Amsterdam, Europe's capital city of legal drugs, sex and mayhem...