More hungover morning. I got up at around 7, nonetheless, and washed and had a coffee, and sat in the hostel living room. I'm pondering how much of this I want to write out here. Non linear it is, then.
Last night I'd gotten back, exhausted, and thrown myself on the comfy sofa to use my phone, and peddle my thoughts. A boy was sitting across from me eating microwaved potatoes, and we started talking. It turned out his name was Maks, and he was from Kyiv. The conversation picked up even more, and then a Portuguese guy called Ed joined us, and then a Polish girl called Kinga, and we spent the entire night sitting there and chatting. I can't even remember what we talked about, anymore. I remember snippets, but I'll keep that in my own diary, thank you very much.
One of us decided we should go out, and we did. We saw a patisserie store, and Maks turned to me, and said - point at any cake, and I'll tell you how much cheaper it is in Ukraine. I was deeply amused.
The next morning, back to me and my coffee, and everyone was queuing for the showers, which I'd managed to avoid as I'd gotten up a bit earlier than everyone else. I saw M again and said hi to him, and then met a Polish guy, called Adam, who was a dentist my age. He was in his boxers and waiting for the shower, and he sat next to me, and we started talking about gums and tooth decay, and that was all I wrote.
I went out and did some more walking around, and all of a sudden it was lunchtime again, so off it was to my favourite Milkbar Tomasza.
Of course it's this, it's always this.
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