Euro-jaunt …chapter seven

Once home I decided to book some short trips to other parts of Europe. Aside from three days spent in a drunken haze while on a stag party in Krakow I’d never visted central or eastern Europe. I’d also craved to visit Sweden ever since having a lads holiday in the canary islands during winter time when hundreds of Swedes go there to escape the freezing scandinavian temperatures. Their flawless skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair was enough to convince me I needed to visit that part of the world sometime soon.

I booked flights for a week in Prague at the end of May, and two weeks in Stockholm straight after. My euro-jaunt daygame adventures were about to properly begin, but so far the chance of actually having any form of sexual relationship with a girl I’d met during the day still seemed unlikely, so rather than a hotel or apartment I arranged to stay in a hostel for my stay in Prague. I convinced myself this was a good idea because it would both save money, and allow me to adjust gradually to the nomadic lifestyle that I’d contracted myself to. I also managed to convince one of the guys from Newcastle – James – to come spend a few days in Stockholm while I’d be there, which was a relief. A friendly face would almost undoubtedly be a good thing after spending nearly two weeks alone.

The day of the Prague flight began to loom over me. I had flashbacks of the one other time I traveled alone, a week in Tenerife three years previous. I’d gotten so paranoid about being by myself that I got drunk on bottles of San Miguel everyday to ignore it. The result was a bout of panic attacks that left me emotionally scarred at the prospect of being isolated in other countries again. I attempted to laugh at the thought, affirming to myself that I’d become at least a little older and more confident.
On arrival in Prague there was a freak heatwave. Walking in the shade helped marginally but it was still a barmy thirty eight degrees. With each step my craving for the cool air conditioned hostel became more and more ravenous. I looked forward to nothing more than laying on my bed with my face nuzzled into an ice cold pillow.
The GPS on my phone took me through Žižkov, a part of Prague that I later discovered as being one of the more dangerous areas. Graffiti covered many of the walls and a group of guys passed by staring at me whilst speaking Czech. I definitely didn’t feel comfortable. Approaching one of the two hot girls that I seen between the train station and hostel barely even registered in my head. I’d talked to zero girls during the day since Marbella and approach anxiety was creeping back in. As well as the approach anxiety, I still felt the uncomfortable sensation that somebody could be watching me. I blamed the strange stalker guy for freaking me out in Spain but deep down I knew it was just my own insecurities.
Finally, I found the Marabou hostel. I pressed the buzzer and heard the door click. ‘Icy air at last,’ I said to myself as I walked through the entrance and down the corridor toward the checking in desk. To my horror I discovered there was no the air-conditioning, in fact, it was even more hot inside than out, ‘2015 and hostels still don’t have air-conditioning?’ I thought. I started to question the choices I’d made, the air in the place felt old and stuffy.
“Hi there! Checking in?” said the chubby bearded man who didn’t bother to stand up from his perch two feet below the high reception desk.
“Yes, please. Is there no air conditioning here?” I asked, concerned for the response which I telepathically already knew the answer to.
“Ahh no, sorry friend, it’s broken right now, yes, you do look a little hot.” He chuckled.
I pretended not to be annoyed and handed over my card and passport for registration.
“Follow me, I’ll show you your room and where everything is.”
He showed me to my top bunk-bed. There was a skinny pie eyed man-child laying like a lounge lizard on the bunk below. He blinked at me twice but didn’t say anything. I didn’t bother to say anything either since he had earphones in, but instead gave a courteous wave which he still ignored.
After putting my bag in the locker I climbed the warm metal ladder onto the mattress and planned to relax for a half hour before venturing to the city. Sweat still secreted from every orifice while I lay looking toward the one single window at the other end of the room. Bright sunshine shone through it. While transfixed I began to notice something in my peripheral vision. I turned to look and just seen a pair of wide eyes looking at me through the wooden slats that were there to protect me falling out of the bed when asleep. When they blinked I recognised them as belonging to the guy below, I gave a friendly nod of acknowledgement. Once aware he’d been spotted my bed sharer brought his head higher to look at me over the slats instead of through them.
“Where you from like?” He asked.
On closer inspection I could tell he was around my age despite looking about fifteen.
“Uk.”
“Ahh me too.” His whole body seemed to do some kind of weird wobble as he spoke, as though his skeleton was made of jelly instead of bone. I also noticed something familiar and got further clarification when I asked where he was from.
“Bishop Auckland mate, yeah Bishop Auckland, my name’s Adam.”
“Cool, I grew up near there, but I live in Newcastle now. I’m Jack”
“Ahh fuck yeah, I thought you had a Teeside accent like. Ere, do you want a pill?”
“What kind of pill?”
“An E, I’ve got about five left. I’ve had two today already. Ey, they’re strong mind, fuckin ell, they’re good like.”
“Not for me thanks, I don’t do that any more, I used to though. I had some great night’s on ecstacy.”
“Yeah, they’re fuckin class aren’t tha. Phoo it’s proper kickin in now like. So where did you used to go clubbing at like?”
“Retro at Tall Trees in Yarm was always my favourite, but we went to loads of different club nights.”
“Ahh yeah, you like some indie music too like? What about The Stone Roses? Or Oasis?” At this point he started to dance around the dormitory singing ‘Don’t Look Back In Anger’ by Oasis while I looked on smiling. As far as I could tell there was nobody else in the room with us at the time.
“Ere ere, what about Pink Floyd, you like them too?”
“Yeah they’re one of my favourite bands.”
“Fuckin class aren’t tha! Ere av got some acid there, I’m gonna ave it tomorrow or the day after but you can have one of them instead if you don’t take pills no more?”
“I think I’ll pass but thanks for offering.”
“No problemo my mate, just let me know if you change your mind. Ere it’s fuckin class Prague innit!”
“I don’t know, I only just got here two hours ago.”
“Ahh yeah yeah, well, I’ll tell ya, it’s fuckin class, I’ve been here two days and have another four left. Took a week off from my factory job to just get away from all the shit back home.”
“Shit back home?”
“Yeah, just shit with me Mam and Dad and tha. Ere do you think I’m weird?”
“You’re different, but that’s good.”
“I’m fuckin weird aren’t a? I don’t mean to be, but everyone always tells me I am.”
“Well who’s to say what’s normal.”
“Fuckin yeah, I suppose you’re right there like. Ere you wanna come to a brothel with me tonight? There’s one at the bottom of this street, they’re not mingers either, fuckin gorgeous some of them, only a hundred quid for an hour.”
“No thanks, I might be meeting friends in the city later.” I lied.
“You know people ere like? I wish I knew people ere. These pills are fuckin class by the way. I think, I think I’m gonna go for a walk outside, I can’t stand still, you wanna come?”
“No thanks, I’m going to try and have a nap.”
“No worries mate, no worries. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Despite the fact he was a raving lunatic I liked him. Maybe it was because we bonded over Pink Floyd and where we were from but he had charisma.
Less than one minute had passed before he burst back into the room like a tornado. “FUCK THAT!! Thought I was gonna melt out there!”
The door barely clicked shut before it opened again and this time a German traveler came in to collect his phone that had been left on charge.
“Hello mate! I’m Adam, this my pal Jack, where you from like?!”
The German took one look at Adam, muttered the word “Germany,” almost inaudibley, and then scuttled back out of the room with his phone.
“He wasn’t very fuckin sociable was he. Ze fuckin Germans. Anyway, I’m gonna grab a beer and sit in the common room. Tara.”
I lay there contemplating whether the hostel was a good idea afterall. There was no air conditioning and I was sharing a bed with drug induced psychopath. I didn’t even leave the hostel again that day, falling asleep early, and then being awoken early morning the next day by someone’s alarm going off. I remember hearing Adam’s voice again, “Ere there’s people still tryin to fuckin sleep in ere!” If the alarm hadn’t woke everyone up I was sure his outburst would have.
After breakfast I agreed to walk to the city with Adam. The drugs had wore off but he still walked as though the top half of his body was not attached properly to the bottom half, his legs seemed to walk thirty centimetres ahead of the rest of him.
When we reached the city he went off to do a city tour he’d paid for back at the hostel. I walked around hoping to see some girls to talk too. Wearing a black t-shirt and jeans I only managed five approaches before wanting to go back to the hostel. The heat was punishing and paranoia still persisted during each interaction. In my mind I blamed the weather, but being watched in Marbella had flicked some kind of switch and now I constantly felt people were trying to listen in. It was ruining my vibe.
Being back at the hostel allowed me to feel relaxed, it became my comfort zone and I spent the next three days barely leaving the place, looking forward to each time Adam would come bounding into the room like a lost puppy.
“Right! Today’s the FUCKING day! I leave tomorrow and I’ve got three fucking acid are you gonna share them with me or fucking what!?!”
“Adam, I can’t take them, I’ve never even tried mushrooms.”
“Fuck mushrooms! This shit’s what you want for your first trip!”
“I’d love to but I’m gonna give it a miss, sorry mate.”
“Fuck it then, I’m taking two together.”
“You sure that’s a good idea, I mean, what time you going to bed? It’s already 10pm.”
“Don’t worry about that, I’ll be fine.”
He left the dormitory to go sit in the common room and after half an hour I fell asleep.
I dreamt there was an earthquake, huge chunks of land mass were breaking apart leaving gigantic chasm’s in the earth, and from within the pit of darkness a huge green snake the size of a train came hissing toward me from the deep. Suddenly I woke up with a start, noticing my head was getting jostled around on the pillow, and from within the darkness of the dormitory I could hear someone extremely close to my ear, “Psssssssssst!”
I turned to see the faint outline of Adam’s head while he continued tugging on my pillow.
“Are you awake?” He asked.
“Well I am now, what do you want?”
“Ahhh, sorry, sorry, I was just wondering if your awake.”
“Adam what the fuck mate, you can’t just start pulling on my pillow when my asleep.”
He didn’t respond. I clicked my phone’s backlight on to try and figure out what was so important for him to wake me, but he just stood perfectly still staring blankly at the wall with a vacant expression across his face and a gormless open mouthed jaw hanging down. Realising he was hallucinating I waved a hand in front of his eyes to snap him out of it. “What did you want?” I asked him again.
“Oh, I can’t remember now. Fuck. Oh well, just go back to sleep pal.”
Getting back to sleep became a laborious task. My imagination ran riot with thoughts of him doing something stupid through the night but eventually I drifted off.
When I awoke Adam was gone and a feeling of emptiness washed over me. ‘It’s time to get over this otherwise I’ll be stuck with cabin fever for the next two days,’ I told myself.
Spurred on by my little pep talk, I leapt out of bed and jumped in the shower before heading to the city centre.
I threw myself into conversations with strangers. Girls, grannies, shop assistants. I needed to get over the social shyness and speaking to as many people as possible was the best way to do it.
I had minimal success. But after talking with intent to more than ten different girls each day I finally got a date. Her name was Daria. Russian. Blonde hair and an almost six pack judging by the revealing crop top she was wearing. Her English was good, we chatted about many things. She reminded me of a young Scarlet Johansen. But without the alcohol to trigger the caveman in me I wasn’t able to escalate confidently enough, and so nothing much happened. I still had a long way to go. ‘Maybe something monumental will happen in Sweden,’ I thought. I had high hopes but only the pick-up Gods would decide.