Lonely In The World —Kosice — 05.04.19
By: Lonely In The World
Tags: Vacation, Travel, Divorce, Ireland, Morals And Money

What am I carrying around with me? you ask. Well I have two backpacks, one is a large camera bag that I’ve taken all the camera compartments out of making it a really expensive backback that I lug around my clothes and toiletries in. And the other is a general back pack I keep my laptop, camera, chargers, dildos etc in. Carrying the two together for a distance is a pain in the arse but I do like the split. If I was to recommend a bag I’d go with an Osprey with a zip that goes all the way around the bag and has a detachable ‘day pack’.

But I don’t have that so this morning I saddled up the bags and made my way to Poprad train station. No chorus of gypsy angels to serenade me when I arrived, unfortunately. A ticket on an Inter City train from Poprad to Kosice cost €6.10 and took an hour forty. That price includes a bottle of water, thank you very much.

The train stations all have these two logos and I’m not sure which represents what but I think they both represent trains. I like the one on the left more.

It’s a cathedral

Kosice is Slovakia’s second city (after Bratislava) and home to… Ah I can’t do it. It’s a city with some old shit in it. I’m only here as a stop over on the way to Belgrade. That isn’t to say that it’s not a nice looking place, it is. And it has cafés and bars and shops and trams (trams!).

And an art gallery called Kunsthalle (more like kunts-halle amirite?). There was an exhibition of new media and game art from local students which was sort of impressive. There was a wooden box and a video of a woman shouting into it so I skipped right past that. There was a chair with a light shining on it, full marks to the genius who produced this. There was an interactive thing with Kinect sensors that processed an image of you and projected it onto a curtain while playing music which I’m fairly sure is a plugin for Ableton just projected onto a curtain… The coolest thing was a load of them railway station signs, the ones where the numbers and letters and names are on individual boards and they flip over… Anyway those things all hooked up and laid out in a hall. When I got to the other side of the wall they all flicked on in a cacophony of flicking and loud whirring — didn’t see that coming. F-.

It’s a rich people retreat

Across the road was a Church of Scientology. Say what you will about the old Scientologists but they run a tight ship. Serious property portfolio. Aggressive membership retention. David McSavage isn’t just a great comedian, he’s a brilliant CEO. He took that stinking heap of hippies and turned it into something to be proud of. Twitter or Uber or another one of these tech giants should give him 24 months at the helm to turn around their ailing fortunes, I’d say he’d do a great job. Live long and prosper, David you mad ol’ bint.

What else happened. I saw a fella with an O’Neills bag. I saw some Australians. I gave a gypsy a banana. I bought a box of fags from a Greek man. Had a walk through the park. Nice park. Loads of kids and their parents. Lovely. Yeah, Kosice is a nice city and the weather helped. Not much else to say really. I suppose it doesn’t have a name for itself which is probably for the best because then it’d just be thronged with a million more people like me going around taking photos of weird stuff.

Tonight I have the luxury of sleeping in a hotel room in the Hostel Bardo. It reminds me of one of those hotels/halfway houses in the movies in New York where there’s a guy in a reception booth looking at porno mags and everyone just comes and goes. There’s a place in the world for these sort of kips as well. Cheap room, cheap rates, rates go down the longer you stay, the longer you stay the less likely you are to leave.

We need to start building a few of these bad boys at home. Fancy airport accessible four star accommodation is all well and good but it’s going to do the square root of fuck all for the tidal wave of broken divorced men that is coming down the pipeline. Oh mark my words if the cronies in charge keep going the way they’re going of ameliorating all of our country’s pride and traditional values people (read: women) will be able to file for divorce online easier than booking a cinema ticket. And all those mega-mortgages, what’s going to happen to them now that Daddy has to live somewhere else? Well they still have to be paid, dummy. So Daddy is stuck paying a death-mortgage for a shit box in Naas, support payments to his ex, love/hush/guilt money to his obnoxious and obese Dipster (Dublin+Hipster, like it) kids Uisce agus Drámaíocht. Where the hell does poor old Daddy get to live in that fucking sinking coffin ship of a city on the few shekels he has left?

Well good sir, step right up to the Delighted Hostel. Twenty a night please and you have to make your own bed. Rates reduce by weeks booked in advance. There’s a kettle and a toaster but we had to get rid of the ovens after a floor of former tenants stuck their heads in them. Sore losers ruining it for everyone else, but arrah God help them. Ah sure, love, put your bags down there. Some house rules. Money up front every Sunday evening, crisp notes only. Come to me with granny change and you’re evicted. No bringing in spirits from outside, you can buy as much as you want from the off-license in the bar on the first floor. Here’s a coupon for your first of many whiskeys. No women, men, trans, half and halves, four by fours or sex robots, androids, gynoids or electronic mastubatory devices of any description inside the premises. If you need to give something a squirt do it in the alley behind the building the one, I don’t really foresee that being an issue anyway, d’you love? Absolutely no drugs UNLESS I CAN HAVE HALF HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Where was I. That’s about it, glad to have ya and absolutely Delighted you’re here. Check out is flexible, hun.

Fucking money spinner.

And that was my day.

Peace.

Lonely In The World supports itself by freelance graphic designing. Give me a whirl www.thisplusthat.ie.

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