One Door Closes, Another One Opens

They say nothing lasts forever. This is especially true of our $600 Canon camera which had a short lived existence of only 1 month before meeting a dark and lonely death. Fuck.

Julia has covered the food. The pictures really do the talking. The only thing I'll highlight is our sources of vitamins: pickles and cabbage. Those two vegetables are disproportionately responsible for our entire vegetable intake. Needless to say this lack of roughage but increased intake of cabbage has directly correlated with a decreased routine faecal output but an increased methane output.

Lately, Julia has been giving me a hard time because I've developed a fetish for doors. In my defence, the doors here are consistently grand and intricate. Im talking stop you in your tracks kind of doors. Harsh or fair? You decide:

                  

Other than the food and hospitality the one thing that has really stood out in Poland are the security guards. ON SEGUES. In their line of work, their right to use segues is tenuous at best. Arguably as tenuous as teachers claiming they need iPads to teach. Still, the hilarity of seeing a uniformed and stern security guard straddling a segue as everybody else saunters on around them is quite amusing indeed. 

You get the picture!

As much as travelling with your beloved is hard work at times, overwhelmingly it's outrageously fun. After a night out with Julia’s cousins where we had misplaced a 20 cent piece, Julia and I were casually walking along the following day. I was quite distracted as I felt like I had a pebble in my shoe. I interrupted Julia to tell her I had something in my shoe. Immediately her astonishment was obvious as she, dumbstruck, replies that she too feels like she has a coin in her shoe. Before I can correct her, she, quite outrageously, jumps to the left of field conclusion that her family have put coins in both of our shoes for good luck. Genuine hilarity ensued!!!!!

Ostensibly, backpacking around the world and not having to work seems like some form of utopia. In reality it's not. On a daily basis we are commonly faced with afflictions such as; where should we eat out for dinner, what time should we wake up in the morning, or the more pressing issue of 'should I get a piece of cake with my latte?' Recently however, we did face a serious problem. After routinely charging our camera battery overnight and heading off on another day of decision making and gluttony we arrived, some 3kms on foot, at our first ever Scandinavian produce market. Senses burning at the sheer intensity of; the slabs of glistening salmon, the naked poultry carcases with feathered heads still attached and the glowing Aryan demeanour of the people around us. Hastily I drew my camera out with cowboy precision. I steadied my grip, began to concentrate on my breathing; aim, shoot and...blank. We've left the freshly charged battery ruminating back at our hostel. Morning ruined, we sat down to freshly baked Swedish pastries and piping hot coffee dwelling over our misfortunes. #firstworldproblems. 

*We ventured back to retrieve our tardy battery.

Generally stitch ups are confined to friends and family. With girlfriends affording a certain amount of immunity. In the absence of both friends and family, Julia has copped her fair share of stitch ups recently. We were scheduled to have dinner at another family members house in the evening. Aunty Ula informed Julia and I to get ready. Julia changed into a dress and on seeing what Julia had chosen to wear Aunty Ula scolded her; highlighting the fact that it was evening and particularly cold outside. Aunty Ula demanded Julia choose something more appropriate but Julia chose to defy her. So we set off outside, Julia in her dress. Halfway into our journey on foot, I use my limited Polish to blatantly lie and tell Aunty Ula that Julia had complained of being too cold. Aunty Ula immediately turned around to Julia, berating her and unleashing some stern and scornful words. Julia, laughing at having been completely stitched up by her clever boyfriend, attempted to defend herself and diffuse the situation only for Aunty Ula to continue chastising her for her inappropriate attire. Meanwhile I struggle to contain my sheer joy at the well executed stitch up.