Just arrived back in Dublin after the big Eurotrip...and I'm already pinching pennies for next year's trip! I'm going crazy to get back to Germany especially...SIGH!
Reminiscent of the kindly Irish boy in Prague who offered sanctuary in his unreal, 'The Dreamers'-esque apartment, complete with weed and wine and whispering.
The Danes are transfixed by red lipstick..?
This reminds me of the hostel window that I had to smoke out of in Amsterdam, SMACK BANG in the middle of the red light district (no exaggeration), where everyone below would watch me and ask about prices, much to the English boys' delight (''Virgin, virgin, ten euros. Tight for cash? Tight gash!''), to the extent that I had to call down ''I'm not a prostitute! I promise!''.
The Tent in Munich can light some bonfire, let me tell you.
Everyone in Frankfurt seems to gravitate towards a girl in a band t-shirt, if only to tell her that she 'keeps it real' like no other girl (still a mystery to me).
The phantom beach! Never to be found!
Swollen morning lips are a good souvenir.
One must always got to bed FULLY CLOTHED, in pajamas that cannot slip off or tangle around one when one shares a dorm room with 11 boys.
There's a Hitler Youth cut...if only he were blonde and had a Bremen accent..
Move to Germany.
Desperately trying to train my hair in preparation for the big shave after the debs!
Memories of Munich and the beautiful, Hitler Youth type (the haircut not the ideology), his hobo beer and broken french baguette in the back of his little blue Renault...
Snoozing just for a second with 'The Russian' against the wall of an icon shop in Dubrovnik at 4am.
The travel companion getting really really palatically drunk and waking up with gushing gums.
Singing Ludacris, Jay Z and Chumbawamba (and teaching Irish drinking games) with strangers on Berlin's S Bahn as we navigated the treasure hunt/ pub crawl.
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