That early Sunday morning at 6am my next Blabla-car picked me up.
The mini-car (grey, the car was grey) could only fit my backpack after some serious Tetriss-ing and I got squeezed between their roadtrip of testosterone, booze and The Prodigy. They were the type of guys I would not trust the tiniest bit when in Belgium: shaven heads, sport trousers and faces that clearly had lived a bit too hard on 90’s parties.
Nevertheless, one of the guys wore braces and it is generally known that someone who cares about their dental appearance is to be trusted, so I gave it a try anyway.
On top of that: the toughest looking guy was a TV celebrity for children's programs. His eyes were shining when he was talking about planting trees with kids to save the environment. Say, whut?
We went to a concert of The Prodigy that night, but I had forgotten how bad those guys were.
I planted myself in the kitchen of their rented apartment, shove my teaser under my pillow and called it a night.
The day after I walked for almost an hour in the burning heat to find my hostel. I was excited to meet my room-mate, since I decided for myself it was time to get social.
I was ready to meet some other travellers, instead of going too local and end up with people who are considering to steal my organs.
Turned out that my room mate was over 200 years old and did not like to wear clothes.
So, I overdosed on ice-cream.