Happy Birthday, Paula!

Kind of a blanc moment right now...
Maybe because the roomie hasn't been such a pain i the neck. Junior has joined us and I think now the atmosphere will change a little, or hopefully a lot.
We're going to Sebastian's house tonight, I think. Junior is still waiting for a reply. Otherwise we'll be doing bailinho at home anyway but Patricia already announced that she won't be part of it. Maybe it's for the best, afterall last weekend was MY time to stay by myself in my room.
There has been some changes. The extra bed in my room was put in Junior's and the TV is finally gone. Maybe that's why she's so upset, because now she cannot lie there watching TV in MY room whenever she likes. I must confess I'll miss two TV programmes but what the hell. Now I can be left alone in my room whenever I want.
Easter is coming and the city is gonna be empty. Patricia is traveling and it's gonna be me and Junior and a Spanish friend of his, Angela. We already invited her to join us during this period and I think we can enjoy ourselves here, all expats together.
Searching for a light at the end of the tunnel, but man... isn't this tunnel long....
I miss my Bukowski's books. I've been reading Agatha Christie (first time in my life) and I'm enjoying it, even though the book is in Portuguese.
Junior has already started to complain about his cousin, I'm just thinking the journey has just begun... The last thing I want is to be in the middle of a family conflict or something.
I haven't been to Kitsch in two weeks and God, I feel great! No more. I mean, never say never, but I'll go out of my way not to come back there. Maybe Easter, when everybody here travels to their hometowns, it will be better - should it OPEN, of course!
Junior got a CD - Favela Chic. I HIGHLY recommend it!
And I want to wish happy birthday to my sister as well.

"I've had it with these mother fucking snakes on this mother fucking plane!"

I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown...
All thanks to the roomie... combined with a massive PMS...

Yesterday was bailinho day, as we normally do every Saturday night. Afterwards Posytifka. I just couldn't do it. I stayed at home.
I had done a bailinho the day before, when we went out with Kasia and Jarek, our Polish "friends" in Krakow (at least the only ones who actually call us). Patricia and Kasia had arranged to meet and I was demanded to join them by Patricia. Kasia brought Jarek along, you know, the one that is gay and still doesn't know it. We went to this place near Rynek to have a pint and afterwards we would go out dancing. Patricia's face was depressing. Hey, I was the one who couldn't speak Polish and I was trying to have a good time. Jarek speaks English so I had to talk to him all night. I must say that he's not a person who's got the most interesting stories to tell, but fuck it! At least, as I mentioned before, they're the only ones who took the time out their lives to call us. Patricia kept saying all the time that she was hating all that and wanted to go home. I pretended not to listen.

We switched bars and finally found one to stay and have a pint. The previous two ones were not convenient, as in one we had to pay to enter and the other demanded ID, which Kasia didn't have on her.

Anyway, we got there, drank, they even played Guns (Sweet Child o' Mine) and I was having a great time. But after that they started playing Polish songs, which I'm fine with. Patricia kept repeating as if she was chanting:
"I hate Polish music, I hate Polish music, I hate Polish music"
I suggested her to go get herself a vodca with orange juice, which she did but than the complaint changed to:
"They charged me 10 zl for this, they charged me 10 zl for this, they charged me 10 zl for this"
Fuck's sake, man!

Around 1am we went home. I stopped at an off-licence for Tatras, you know, the cheap beer for bailinho. We got home, Patricia and I talked a little and she went to sleep and I carried on the bailinho until 6am or something.

Next day I was awoken by this terrible music. I must add that I haven't been able to sleep for a week because the alarm on the door keeps making this terribly annoying sound every ten seconds, which stops me getting some sleep. She decided to clean the house but instead of putting the radio in the kitchen she left it in her room, which is across from mine. But OK. I woke up, went to the kitchen and tried to prepare lunch, which was impossible because she was "sorting things out". All dishes and knives and forks were in different places... It started getting on my nerves.

I prepared lunch and stayed in the kitchen watching my Foo Fighters DVDs. Both Hyde Park gig and Acoustic. It kinda cheered me up a little but not enough to go on to do bailinho. I stayed in my room while they did it (they invited Tomek, a friend of Junior's) and kept coming for my CDs. They went out afterwards and this morning Patricia told me that it wasn't fun at all, only the bailinho.
"Fernanda, we missed you there because you're 'the queen of bailinhos'..."
Queen of the fucking highway if I could...

Yeah, I guess when it becomes routine it is like this. I think that's why I'm never getting married...

"Posing as girlfriend for homossexuals"

No... It wasn't like that... I'm just quoting Sienfeld, as I was kinda hired to be a companionship here...
But first things first.

Wednesday night. Watching TV, lying in bed and unsuccessfully trying to find a good programme. Suddenly a phone call (I had almost forgotten the ring of my mobile...). Carolina, who worked with me at Silvios, was doing a backpacking and would arrive in Krakow the next morning. Great! Let's meet!
We met the next day and walked around downtown (Rynek). I took her to have Pierogi, which is one of the traditional Polish dishes and afterwards we went to Karziemisz. We were going to have a pint at Kolory but then we found Junior and Patricia at Alchemia. Patricia was having a "date" with a girl we had met a few of weeks before at Kitsch. Of course it wasn't a date, but we still don't know if the girl is lesbian or was just trying to be friendly. Patricia didn't want to be alone with her, so Carol and I stayed there. After she arrived we went to Positifka, I saw the guy that I had found cute the other day, but nothing happened, of course.
We went home and did a little bailinho. Junior showed up and we decided to go to Kitsch (dahhhh). I told Carol that maybe she wouldn't like the place because it's kinda... eh... dirty. She said she wouldn't mind because she hadn't done any parties yet.
Thursday is the best day to go there, it isn't crowded, there are no turists and you can have some fun, although I spent the whole time trying not to look around because of Damian. He didn't show up anyway.
Junior had the most fun. I was kinda drunk but it wasn't bad either. We went home around 4am and I had to be prepared on Friday for the "task" I had agreed to do.

Suzana, the woman who Junior lives with and who is married to a famous Polish writer invited all of us for a dinner party at some expensive hotel. Her friend Sandra had her two nephews over and was trying to get rid of them for the night, because the guys were always in the house. So the task was to have dinner, become friends and take them out afterwards. That was I was told...
It turned out that Junior and Patricia declined the invitation and I was the one in charge of the job. Man...
I met the guys, one was her nephew Fabian (ugly) and his friend Wilko (reaaaally good-looking). They're both from Germany and are 21 and 23 respectivelly. But they started talking to the hotel manager's girlfriend and there was no way I was able to butt in. Suzana and I changed places at the table for me to be 'closer' to them, but no success. Eventually the woman left the table and Wilko came to sit in front of me. We started talking. He's half-German, half-Dutch, is majoring in Computing Sciences and is a musician. The other one is studying History and is also a musician. The guys were nice, Wilko of course being niver that Fabian.
We drank a lot of Zywiec, laughed and all. But the problem was that the guys had already made plans to go to this place, because next day they would come back to Bonn. I asked if I could join them for a pint they said ok, but the place was kinda "rock and roll". I said: 'beautiful', but then they said is kinda 'heavy'... Hey, I was determined to complete my task, so we left the hotel towards there.
The place is called Tower and it's very close to Rynek. As we were entering I could hear the 'heavy' sound. Man, it was totally heavy/trash metal, with half a dozen Polish people banging their heads. Oh my God, I thought.
I went to meet them at the bar and they had already bought me a beer. Jesus Christ. Fabian asked:
"Table or disco"
"Whatever"
"Disco"
Man, I don't think I can put it in words. It was surreal. I'd never been to a place like that before and I wasn't enjoying it, though I didn't wanna go home either.
I drained that Zywiec and went for another one. And another, and another. No effect. I think it was non-alcoholic or something.
After a while I asked if they wanted to hang at the bar for second and have a smoke. We went but Fabian kept going and coming. Wilko stayed and we talked, but nothing more...
Eventually I said I was leaving, took a cab and went home. The guys are alright, Fabian gave me his contact. Maybe a place to crash whenever in Bonn.

On Saturday I was pretty beat. I wasn't gonna go out but then Junior arrived with beer and said we shoud do a bailinho and meet his friends at Positifka.
That place is great. Music is fantastic, London hits and things from the 80s. I couldn't stop dancing, not for a moment. Around 1am we went to Coccoon and I kept on dancing. And dancing, and dancing and not drinking because I didn't have any money. Whatever, I danced all that Electro and it felt like I had ten Duracells stuck up my ass. Patricia of course wasn't enjoying and wanted to go to Kitsch. I said: '4 o'clock'.

We went to Kitsch. Same shit. Packed with turists. Bartek was there and Damian wasn't. I think this guy is never showing up again. Escovado was there, bitter as always. Patricia had met a guy while I was at the bar buying a beer. His name is Krsysztof but he doesn't look Polish at all. He looks Spanish, he even speaks Spanish, I don't know, maybe half-half. He was pretty good-looking and spent almost all night with us. Patricia got his number but she's a dumbass and I don't think she's calling him. If only he was into me...
We went home, Patricia went to sleep and I did a chill-out bailinho. Junior called and came over for a last cigarette and to crash.
Man, Positifka... That's the place to be.

"Before I fall to pieces"

The title is kinda self-explanatory...

I wanna scream!!!!!!!!!!!

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRR

Man...
I wanna speak English! I wanna talk to people! WHAT IS WRONG WITH EVERYBODY?????
Saturday was the last time I went to that bloody Kitsch. No, Damian wasn't there, which helped a little, but that place isn't for me. It isn't!!!!

I started bailinho a little earlier so that I could listen to my Brit bands, because neither Junior nor Patricia like them. Well, they don't know the music and are not willing to make an effort to listen to them either. But ok, when Junior came we started listening to Electro, which was also good.
We drank and danced and drank and danced. I don't know, I wasn't in the mood and I knew I needed a lot of RedBulls to keep me going. Patricia is always the last one to start some party. For Christ's sake that girl has a real problem...
Well, we invited Pawel to joins us in our chill-in, but he said he would be waiting for us at Plastik, the new place they wanted to go. Invariably we got hammered. Double, triple hammered. But the problem was that Patricia'd never gotten as drunk as we usually do, but there's always a first time, right? Right. And last Saturday wasn't the best day for her to get drunk, believe me. I was in a terrible mood and on the verge of hitting somebody.
We went to Plastik and the place wasn't full, but I was willing to stay there for a while before going to Kitsch. As soon as we got there I started feeling sick. Puking sick. I went to the bar and asked where the bathroom was with the barf stuck in my throat. Had I said one more word I would've covered the bartender in RedBull and vodca and beer. I ran upstairs and cut the line and didn't care, people complained but I thought they would prefer waiting a little while instead of watching the scene right in front of them. I puked and felt better.
We met Pawel and he said he would go to Coccoon. Neither of us wanted to go there, but then they decided to go to Kitsch at that moment, and it wasn't even 0:30am. We'd never arrived there before 3am, never! But ok, we all took our things and went.
On our way there I was already sober, but they weren't. Patricia wouldn't shut up for a second, she simply wouldn't shup the fuck up and I decided not to say a word otherwise I would've killed her, I think. I don't know, when I'm drunk people around me usually are as well, so nobody cares, and seriously, I don't think I say that so much shit as she did. It was unbearable and they noticed. I just asked to be left alone for a while.

We entered Kitsch. It was full, fucking full, more than too full, not walkable. And they were all tourists that didn't give a damn. We left our coats and went to the bar, I bought a beer and they didn't. Music was crap. People were strange. I saw Bartek, he was the only one I knew there.
Junior decided to go to a gay place, don't know the name, so it was only Patricia and I, but by then she had already calmed down. We stayed at the bar and a Potuguese guy came to talk to us and introduced a friend of his, Joao. This Joao guy was pretty nice, but ugly. We started talking and I coudn't understand a word he was saying. He was amazed at how a Brazilian girl couldn't understand him, I would look at Patricia and she translated everything. He was loving all that and it was the only moment we had some fun. We talked about soapoperas, football, differences between the two countries. I taught him some Polish. I would use the gerund, of course, and we kept correcting each other. He said that in the sounth they use gerund.
I said: 'You guys from Lisbon should use the gerund as well'
'But we don't use it!'
'But gerund is gerund!'
'I don't like the gerund!!!'
It was unbeliveable. I was fucking with him and he was serious about all that. Patricia and I couldn't stop laughing.
Eventually they left and once again it was only the two of us. We tried to dance a little but it was impossible. She wanted to go home and I said we would go after my beer.
I went to the bathroom. The line was endless and the floor was filthy. I decided to "cut" the line and use the stalls near the cloakroom because there's always fewer people there. I was waiting and one guy started talking to me in Polish. I said I couldn't speak the language and we spoke English. His name was Michal and he said he worked in construction, but wether as an engineer or a bricklayer is the question. He was good-looking. They called my number and I went into the stall. It was disgusting. Somebody had left this huge turd there and the floor was flooded in piss. I lifted my pants to my knees and went for it. Awful. When I left he was still waiting.
I went: 'Hey, I'm with a friend at the bar having a beer, do you wanna join us?'
'Yes, I think I'm having one more beer'
'So see you there'
'Ok'
I'm still waiting for him to show up. I got pissed off. Hey, HE started talking to me, I was just being friendly, wasn't asking for marriage or anything, but once again got stood up.
I drank my beer, we went home and did a bailinho until 7am.
I'm starting to get a little fed up with everything...

Lesson never learnt

As you can imagine, the guy hasn't written. I don't think I can put in words the way I feel right now and have felt this whole week. A dumbass. A dumbfuck. Stupid. Idiot. Asswhole. Shameful. You know those old cartoons when the character falls in the pond and a sign of 'ass' sticks out of its neck? That's probably the best picture of me right now.
And apparently I don't seem to learn the lesson, ever. Tonight they all want to go out, we're doing a bailinho at home, then go to this new place called Plastik. But this place is kind of a chill-in place, so it finishes around 1am or 2am and after we only have one option: fucking Kitsch. Fucking Kitsch! Seriously, I hope something happens and he doens't go. I don't know, a bad sandwich or something.

I've had an awful week. Everything seemed to have gone wrong with me.
We are so stupid, no? We spend our precious time trying to make people who don't give a shit about us enjoy our company, you know?
I'm sitting in this bar at Rynek with my lap top and there is a guy sitting at the table next to mine, with the SAME lap top, also drinking Zywiec and smoking Marlboro. Not only is he not giving a damn, he also came to my table asking if he could use the outlet I had my computer plugged so that he could charge his battery. He's Polish, good-looking, but trying a conversation would be useless.
I'm sick and tired of watching everybody pass by, I wanna be part of it! New York, New York!

But again, I never learn the lesson.
I don't know, I think I'm mentally exhausted of everything around me, of only meeting complicated people, of always finding an obstacle in my path. At least music in this place is good.

Kinda fed up. I wanna be with my friends an tell everybody else to shove it.

No more putting up with shit - Vol.2

What an awful night I'd had. I was in bed and had this huge hangover and all I could picture in my mind was that image of him saying 'no'. What had happened to me? Was all that worth it? Was he worth it? I had screwed things up big time. Maybe he is really troubled, maybe something happened in the past for him to be like this (but he's only 20, so I don't think he actually had time to be hurt). Maybe he's just the ultimate typical Polish guy, who you have to meet when you're ten to get married when you're 30. I was lying in bed, looking out the window at the trees, or what once were trees, the gray sky. I sent Seweryn a message saying that I was gonna go that night and if it was ok to get there after 8pm. He replied saying that there had been some change in plans and Marek couldn't put me up for the weekend. He apologized and asked if it was ok for us to put it off for the following weekend. What could I say? No? I said it was ok, even though it wasn't. I was looking forward to embarking on that fucking train and going to the capital and for once not being able to walk two blocks and go to Kitsch.
On Saturday we arranged to have a little bailinho in the house, Junior would go to Coccoon and Patricia and I to Prozak afterwards. Patricia was out for the afternoon visiting a friend, I went to exchange some money, went to the market and bought some food. The weather was terrible, raining all the time and not cold, I was sweating with that coat and scarf. My hair was awful, I had just washed it and now I was out in the humid weather. I bought ham, cheese and chicken at the counter. Bought a couple of RedBulls (actually the cheapest version, Tiger). Made my way home holding those heavy cheap plastic bags with one hand and the umbrella with the other. I cooked, it was delicious. Every time I make my Chicken Krakow it gets better and better. I watched some TV, a really good documentary about prisions in the USA, some news and then when to the kitchen to have a beer. I listened to Myslovitz one hundred times, this time the whole CD. Myslovitz is my favorite Polish band. I listened to that album and started going crazy about getting old. I started feeling desperate and really going mad. I smoked one cigarette after the other and drained that Warka, which was cold but it's not so good. It's cheaper than Zywiec, though. Patricia came home about 7:30pm and Junior arrived at 9pm with booze. We listened to music, to everything. From Pet Shop Boys to Electro, from radio to Madonna, from Gorillaz to Femmes de Paris. We drank everything. We were hammered. Junior kept jumping up and down, Patricia was dancing and draining combo nbr 2, they both had the happiness pill, I didn't. I'm not into pills, I'm into combo nbr 2, which I also drained.
At 1am we all went to Coccoon, Junior wasn't feeling ok and I had puked at home before leaving. I was feeling better by the time we got there. We went to the smaller dancefloor, stayed for a while and then moved to the bigger one. On our way there I fell down the stairs and a guy that was sitting just kept looking. Patricia and their Turkish friend helped me to stand up, Junior didn't even know what was going on. We danced for about two hours at Coccoon, with me all the time asking Patricia to go to Kitsch. She kept saying: 'at 4 o'clock'. At 4am I asked to leave and we did, took a cab and off we went to Kitsch. Patricia only agreed to go there under one condition: to go straight to the dancefloor and STAY there, not at the bar.
We went there but we had to buy beer first, so we went to the bar and, of course, he was there but didn't see me.
We met Bartek, danced near the stage, music was dreadful as usual.
Every time I went to the bathroom I would stand behind the door and slowly stick my head out, almost like a spy, to see what he was doing. If somebody at bar saw they must think I'm a really, really sad girl.
Patricia had met two Spanish guys while I was out pissing and checking up on him. One of them, Jose or Diego or whatever, wanted something. I just wanted to kiss in the mouth, that's it, just a fucking kiss, but he wanted to get laid. I said that I couldn't because I was married to a policeman who worked in Katowice, but I could kiss him. He said ok. I told him to wait one second and went to say hey to Damian. He looked surprised and said: 'I thought you were in Warszawa'. I said I didn't go and he was going to say something and I said: 'Alright, just to say hey'. The Spanish guy and I went to check our coats out. Patricia wanted to go home anyway so we all went to the cloackroom. After putting my coat on I told Patricia to wait a moment. I went after Damian.
I asked if he was staying longer and that I wanted to have a beer. He said he wanted a beer but he didn't like when women bought him drinks. I asked what the problem was and he agreed to me buying him a beer, as long as he could buy me one at the rock and roll place he promissed to take me. I told Patricia that I was staying and SHE had to tell the Spanish guy I wasn't going with them. She said the guy looked for me in the place and I don't know if he saw me with Damian or not.
Well, we stayed there until almost 8:30am. Bartek kept coming and going. We didn't talk anything, say, deeper. He asked if I was still mad at him. I went all: 'Why should I be mad?' He went all: 'Because of the other day.' I said: 'I was drunk'.
He told me he had smoked pot before going to Kitsch and that he was starting to feel kinda sick. He walked me downstairs and told me he would send me a message on Monday about the place he would take me. He hasn't written yet and I don't think he will. And even if he does I can't go out because I'm sick. I wish I could erase his number from my cell phone.

...I just did it...

No more putting up with shit - Vol.1

Ok, I guess it already started. I don't know why I always, ALWAYS have to like the troubled guy. It's unbeliveable. I must certainly be this huge magnet for wirdoes or guys that don't even know I exist.
It all started on Thursday. Junior, Pawel and I arranged to meet at Kolory at 9pm, have a few beers and then afterwards Kitsch. Junior had invited a couple of classmates, both from Egypt and ugly, to join us. They spoke Polish and their English was awful, I mean, they could speak English but the accent was unintelligible. A lot of good-looking guys there, some gay some not. We had a couple of beers and headed towards Kitsch. The weather was shitty, raining and not that cold, not that warm... We got there and ordered drinks, Junior and I had vodca and RedBull, one of the Egyptians didn't drink alcohol. We went to the dancefloor, music was shit and we started dancing. The two guys didn't like the place at all, there were a few gays and lesbians there. The guy who didn't drink alcohol just leaned against the wall and stared, looking kinda scared. The other one bought us drinks, I went for beer, Pawel vodca and orange juice and Junior wanted vodca and RedBull but the guy brought him vodca with pineapple juice, which Junior hates. He drank it all anyway.
We kept on dancing but the two Egiptian guys weren't having fun at all, they were just standing there. I asked everybody if they wanted to go to the bar for a while, they agreed. To my surprise, who was sitting at the counter??? Yes, Damian. I told Junior he was there and he came to say hey. We talked a little and then went to the counter where his things were. I completely forgot about Junior, Pawel and the guys. Completely. That's typical of me, though. He said that that was the first day he was going out after our "date" on Valentine's Day (I doubt it) and that he had seen his parents and that he had to stop going out for a while and that he had to study... That he wanted to wake up at 5am and go running or biking. That he wanted to start a band playing the guitar and doing the vocals. I was just drunk and listening to all that crap. I didn't mind, I was loving it. The little bitchy friend of his all the time kept coming and smoking cigarettes and he was all into her... Junior and Pawel kept going dancing on the dancefloor and coming back after half hour. One of the times I went to the bathroom I just heard somebody calling: 'Fernandaaaa!!!' It was the gay guy I always meet there, but I obviously couldn't remember his name. I looked at him and said: 'Ehh... Andrzej?' And he was all: 'No, try again, it starts with B.' I went all: 'Barthhh...olomeu??' He said: 'Almost. Bartek'. I apologized for not remembering his name and told him to go to the bar after checking his coat in the cloackroom.
I went back to talk to Damian. I was drunk and I wanted to kiss him or at least try to figure out once and for all why he was doing that to me. Of course, I don't remember one third of what we were talking about, I have just flashes of what may have happened. I remember that I had my hands all over him and saying that he had great muscles or something, holding his legs, I don't know. He went to buy him a few shots of vodca, three or four and we kept talking. He said that he was feeling better and I asked why and he said that it was because of me. I say it was because of the vodca. I really don't remember how the whole conversation started, I just remember asking him why he kept sending me text messages for three weeks and he said because he liked me. I said I liked him as well, but then he said that he didn't know what the problem with him was, that he was shy and romantic and things had to happen slowly. I got pissed. What a wierd country. Some wierd people. Some wierd guys. What was the matter with one little kiss? I think if they kissed more often they wouldn't be so fucking uptight.
I had run out of money, Junior and Pawel had long gone and I decided to leave as well. I grabbed his face and kissed him in the cheek. Then I tried to give him a little smack, and he said no. NO! I looked at him in disbelief and said: 'Oh my God... oh my God...', grabbed my purse and left. I left that place overwhelmed. I couldn't believe I'd been rejected by a 20-year-old Polish boy that loved Brazil and was all troubled. That knew nobody in that place apart from that little bitchy of his. That he was all wierd and maybe that's why nobody talked to him.
I went home and must have listened to Myslovitz fifty times. Even though I closed the doors Patricia was able to listen and she said that she thought a hundred times about getting up and ask me to turn it down. I told her the next day that had she done it I would have probably punched her in the face.
Seweryn had called me on Thursday afternoon inviting me to go to Warszawa. That was all I needed, to leave this city for the weekend and try to forget all about that shitty night.

(To be continued)