Another day destined to be boring that turned into anything but.
The day began ordinarily enough with a trip to the restaurant and to the beach and then to the supermarket. That’s when things got weird (weird seems to follow me).
I was with my Serbian partner in crime, sitting on a bench underneath a tree when a stringy old man joined us. He was approximately 60, but perhaps he just looked that old because of the missing teeth and stringy hair. He was incredibly skinny and wrinkly, his skin leathery from too much sun for too many years. He wore blue, sporty beach shorts with red on the side and nothing more.
We were speaking about airports when he interrupted.
First, he wanted to know if we were speaking German. My Serbian friend replied in Serbian that no, we were not. He then asked if we were speaking English. She responded in Serbian that in fact we were. He replied that no wonder he didn’t know we were speaking English; he doesn’t speak English!
Then he started asking about our nationalities, if we were Serbian or American.
I realize that none of that is particularly interesting. The interesting bit is coming:
“Is she single?” he asked my friend.
She said I have a boyfriend.
“How old is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is he from and how old is he?
She replied, “I don’t know.”
Then he asked her a few questions about where she was from in Serbia.
I couldn’t quite bare to look at him, so I didn’t. I let her do all the talking (not like I could communicate with him anyway).
At the time, I had no idea what he was asking her (the conversation was translated for my benefit later), but decided that she had been talking to him long enough and declared that we were late for meeting her sister.
We walked quickly, but not too quickly. We didn’t want to raise suspicion.
In a few minutes, we were at the hostel. I unlocked the front door and we walked upstairs to the second door.
I turned the handle. It was locked. I tried both of my keys without luck. We decided to see if we could find Pero. We found him and he made a few phone calls. We returned to the hostel.
Pero joined us a few minutes later.
We took turns ringing the bell, yelling out “Mack!” and knocking on the door. The three windows in the hostel were open, so my Serbian friend (NOT my special Serbian George) walked around front and started throwing things through the window trying to hit Mack (the Singapore dude that was in the hostel sleeping). We yelled and yelled and threw everything we had (including several pairs of shoes and a pair of flippers that had been in a hall closet). Finally, Pero scaled the wall, climbed through one of the open windows, and tried to unstick the door from the other side. After trying 3 or 4 keys and almost tearing the handle off the door, he was able to open the door and we were able to get in to survey the destruction.
Notice the yellow flippers and water bottles and random shoes...
Funny enough, Mack wasn't even in the hostel... no one was. We thought Mack (the newest arrival from Singapore) had locked us out, but it turns out that the door stuck on its own.George arrived a few minutes later. Our afternoon wouldn’t have been complete without him! He is my most favorite Special Serbian, you know. He exhausts me. I have to focus so hard on what he is saying, and to be polite I look at him. I am completely exhausted even now writing this post.
George spent hours at the hostel today. He is actually staying at the 2nd hostel, but for some reason spent the whole day sitting on the bed in the common room (yes, there’s a large bed in there, bigger than the room itself!). I was trapped at the dining table between George on the bed on my left and another Serbian man sitting on the couch on my right.
Can you tell how I feel from the expression on my face??I was trapped. I had started making my dinner minutes before George arrived, so during the cooking, eating, and cleaning portions I was obliged to remain in the dining area.
To amuse ourselves, we took photos of George without him knowing to try to capture the popping eyeballs.
I must be an excellent conversationalist because as soon as he walked in, he started talking to me and didn’t stop until I finally was able to leave after about three hours or so.I typed an SOS into my keyboard. “My eyes are glazing over.” No one answered my cry for help. I’m not sure they knew what to do or how to go about rescuing me from his clutches.
George and his sister discuss me often apparently. Did I already write about how George told me he talked about me at dinner with his sister? Apparently, they talked about me again today. They came to the conclusion that I appear more European than American. And his sister sends her regards (which is nice, especially seeing as I still like her and George has become overwhelming). I think he would be a decent guy in small doses, but he doesn’t understand when enough is enough and that sometimes, space is a good thing.
Pero had misplaced his keys (I have since found them), so he asked George for his key. I am sure he was sad that his hard-earned key disappeared before he’d had it in his hot little hand for than 20 minutes.
At about 10PM, I escaped. Several of the hostel guests were leaving to take walks, so I slipped out the door.
I walked around town taking photos in the dark playing with the exposure time. I think the hpotos I took the night I arrived turned out better, but these are good too.
I felt safe to return an hour later. I hate how I have to calculate when I can return. I hate how nervous and jumpy I am here in Kotor. I should be calm and relaxed, but I am so stressed all the time and it’s most definitely because of the workers.Off to bed. I’m exhausted. You have no idea how tiring it is to avoid someone so… frustrating. And how awful it is to be trapped by said person for multiple hours and be forced to converse.
No comments:
Post a Comment