Monday, February 2, 2009
The 24 hour round trip
Ker clack ker clack ker clack, knock knock 'excuse me ladies do you have a valid ticket for this journey', 'no but give us a minute to look though our underwear and we'll see what we can find to give you, we'll pay somehow' ching chicka ching chicka ching, ker clack....
Sounds like the soundtrack to the opening of a dodgy movie. Actually it's the sounds that rudely awakened me at 4am on the overnight train from Prague to Budapest on Friday night, when two seemingly quiet Australian girls found out that their student rail ticket didn't cover all parts of Europe. Despite the moustache, the guard expected nothing improper and instead settled for a handful of Zloty, Euro's and two pence pieces. Even though they made up less than a third of the expected fare. He must have been Hungarian. A Czech guard would never have let them get away with it and would have dumped them at the Slovakian border.
As previously mentioned in another blog, I had decided to 'pop' over to Hungary to go to a shindig, and enjoy my new found status as an international party chick and all round lady of leeeiiiiiisure.
I like Hungary. The men are sort of polite when they are not staring down your top. And actually that's far more polite than in CZ when they don't stare at you at all, despite your best efforts with an industrial sized vat of concealer and assorted expensive war paint. Wonderbras are now a luxury item in this economic climate you know?
Ahhh yes, i'm back on the prowl again after my long distance international relationship went down like a balloon dog at a 5 year olds birthday party. Well, long distance is just not sustainable when you didn't really know each other for that long in the first place. But it was nice to know he was there. A bit like a bottle of Asprin. Barely ever take them yourself, but people are always asking you if you have one - especially when you don't. My tip is to ask an American. Be it over the counter pills, or men, they usually have a spare one knocking around somewhere.
Anyway, despite my new found status, I was very well behaved. Except for all those people I think I may have insulted. But I did also meet a lot of interesting folk. After the party (thanks Martin it was great) I was walked home by an exceptionally kind and tolerant man. I was very possesive of the piece of paper which had my friends address on it and was reluctant to give it to anyone. Even for a second. Poor guy. Someone please thank him for me and tell him I'm sorry.
I snoozed a few hours and then met a crowd for Brunch, where I laughed a lot. I almost considered staying longer but I figured a near state of exhaustion was probably the very best time to get a train back to Prague. Who knows who I would have to share a compartment with. Luckily for me I had a compartment all to myself. I spent a lot of time smoke proofing the room. I had a wet facial wipe covering the vent to the corridor, and a large scarf tied around the smoke alarm. But its a little hard to enjoy a cigarette when you feel like you are smoking at your mums house. It's a kind of guilty kind of school kid feeling but without the thrill. I didn't finish one.
As soon as I came back at 6.30am I showered and readied myself for a second round of interviews for a new job which I had already previously been told that I had. One interviewer was English. He seemed pretty cool. But that is no indication of anything. Why they would say I had it and then interview me again....? Is no advertising agency to be trusted? (that was rhetorical by the way).
Anyway, Just in case I think I'd better start looking for alternative options and getting a bloody good choreographer and make up artist for my first stint as a pole dancer. And when I mean pole I mean Warsaw. I think pre vodka infused men with a penchant for women who eat goulash may be the only way forward.