I’m A Tourist, Get Me Out Of Here

We drove for a day and a half to get out of Italy, eventually arriving in Austria. Somehow “birthplace of Hitler” seemed more appealing to us than “crimescene and beligerant turdfest Italia”. 

the plastic cover for our broken window, propped up with a bit of carrot.

I sobbed in the passenger seat when we realised it was nether financially viable nor safe to take the long route through Greece with a broken window. I just wanted pistachios and souvlaki and gatakis and skeelos. With the main reason I came on this trip a write-off, I almost wished I could teleport back to my normal, secure bedroom. Italy left me with a lot of mosquito bites and I look like I’ve grown extra elbows all over my body. 

Nevertheless, Austria is gloriously German and everything is green and wooden and traditional. I asked Josh to remind me what the place we found to stay was called and he replied, “I dunno, Felch-something.” I recognise words here, although we are actually in Ferlach. You can smoke indoors here, and look up at the mountains.

We took an afternoon trip into Slovenia and saw Lake Bled. If I get my fourth period here I swear, the universe will officially be proven as a collossal joke. Here is the only island in the country, and a mean looking swan. It’s pouring with rain, which is unfortunate since all or waterproofs were stolen. We waded into the cold water and laughed at our misfortunes. 

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