As one might guess from yesterday's post, it was a bit of a wasted weekend. After my do-gooder antics the week before, I spent most of last week alternating between earnest conversations about Belarus with family and friends and trying to amuse myself and not get panicky and depressed when left to my own devices. Part of it I'm sure was due to the antibiotics, the general DTs and the tick borne encephalitis that I didn't have, and part of it due to the culture shock I'd had and the natural time it will take to readjust.
I needed a break. I'm just not that good a person, and there's only so long I can keep up the pretence. So on Saturday I decided to indulge in one of my more wasteful pursuits, a spot of retail therapy. The last thing I need is more clothes and shoes (I have a bit of a flip flop fetish) but I merrily bought rings around myself for the morning, convincing myself that the cocktail party I was going to that night (see previous post) and the wedding I'm off to in Italy next week would be very posh affairs, and that lovely new clothes will hide a multitude of sins. Laden with bags and cranky with hunger, I called it quits at about 3pm, hailed a taxi (if you're going to be self-indulgent, why not go the whole hog?) and grandly stated my destination. Almost immediately we hit catastrophic traffic, so I decided to while away the time by talking shite to the driver. I'm about as imaginative as your average taxi driver when it comes to casual conversation, so when he opened with the weather, I countered with the traffic. "But" says he, "are you not marching today, love? I thought all of you types would be out, no?" "Marching?" "Yeah love, you know, pride, an all tha..."
I needed a break. I'm just not that good a person, and there's only so long I can keep up the pretence. So on Saturday I decided to indulge in one of my more wasteful pursuits, a spot of retail therapy. The last thing I need is more clothes and shoes (I have a bit of a flip flop fetish) but I merrily bought rings around myself for the morning, convincing myself that the cocktail party I was going to that night (see previous post) and the wedding I'm off to in Italy next week would be very posh affairs, and that lovely new clothes will hide a multitude of sins. Laden with bags and cranky with hunger, I called it quits at about 3pm, hailed a taxi (if you're going to be self-indulgent, why not go the whole hog?) and grandly stated my destination. Almost immediately we hit catastrophic traffic, so I decided to while away the time by talking shite to the driver. I'm about as imaginative as your average taxi driver when it comes to casual conversation, so when he opened with the weather, I countered with the traffic. "But" says he, "are you not marching today, love? I thought all of you types would be out, no?" "Marching?" "Yeah love, you know, pride, an all tha..."
