The Lost Days

The next three days or so were a pleasant introduction to the zloty, which has a current exchange rate of 3.5 to 1 American dollar.  I could just go around converting prices at the supermarket all day.  I've been living in two of the most expensive areas of the US for my entire life, so this really does excite me.  I meet my flat mates, a Chinese and a Turkish girl.  They're nice, but it's a little difficult to communicate with them.  It's difficult to meet people in this dorm because although it's large with close quarters, the layout reminds me of a housing project.  Two rooms adjoining kitchen and bathroom completely cut off from the other sects of the floor.

I read quite a bit.

I meet another American student, Klinton, but through facebook, not the chancing grace of dorm life.  As far as we can tell we're the only new students who've arrived thus far.  I confess that I've seen Rynek, but haven't been out to bars, so we waste no time departing with my roommate, Nicole.

Polish bars=  American 90s pop music + high alcohol content - gay people (apparently they don't exist here, like dryers.  Nicole lets us in on some of the perils of Olowek, such as a lack of dryers.  In fact, I'm starting to doubt that the country as a whole believes in them, they're like fairy creatures.  Even if they do exist, what's the point right, we could just let our clothes dry in the fresh sub-freezing Wroclaw air.  We're also warned about the showers of puke every morning from the balconies.

There's also a lock out time, 2-3 in the morning, I don't know, just to fuck with you.  Trams stop running at 12 and start up at 4, so you either have to come in early or stay out late, fair enough, there's night buses too.  Due to this fact we decide to leave around 12am, but since we started at about 7, our mission is rightfully accomplished.  I leave some drunken facebook messages, eat potato chips over my computer and pass out.

I dream of orange juice and wake up to drink some, and then some more, and then some more, until I have to projectile vomit from the kitchen to my toilet.  I became that girl, fuck, maybe I should've just used the balcony, then atleast i wouldn't have to sop up the orange vomit.  Note to self.