London 1.1

I´ve been in London for something over a month now. At first, I wanted to write about it all – the first day, my 18th birthday just two days later, one week in. It´s only been a couple of weeks, but I feel like I´ve aged a whole century. The weight of change has nestled upon my shoulders. But still, somehow I feel lighter. I´ve known for a good while now that I am not a small kid anymore – I´ve aged, yes, but still, I am not old just yet.

I feel like it´s been months since I´ve been here. Not in lousy way, nor exhilarating. Just a heavy aftertaste of  having so many thoughts and feelings in a span of a very short time. First days I doubted, unnecessarily sharing aloud to people who did not necessarily deserved to know – “why did I even decide on this?” “Would I have not been better off at home?” even though I knew the answers to both questions even before opening my mouth. “Because you would never forgive yourself.” goes the first one. The second one is a bit simpler, but still resonates heavy : “No.”

Sure, I could be beside my family everyday and my friends would be only a phone call away. But my nerves would snap like a rubber band with my mom constantly getting on them, and how could my head not explode with my sisters  constantly gushing over things I´d rather not occupy my brain with? I love them, but I needed a break. And couple of years back, the idea of taking it over an ocean seemed absurd to me as well, trust me.

As for the situation with my best friends – ah, I miss them all so much. But I was very well aware it would not still be the same even if I had stayed. There are constantly changes in life, big ones, small ones, everyday changes and we´ve been submitted to them quite a lot throughout this past year. Some of them split their time differently now – three have boyfriends,  one is graduating and applying to universities on top of it. The rest of us is already there, studying our asses off, some more, some less. It all depends on the level of laziness. I feel like I tend to excel at this, but maybe we are all sharing this same feeling. (That we are all the lazy ones, not that they all think I´m the laziest.) We are out here experiencing new things and making memories with other people. But if we can still get excited to tell each other about something great that happens to us, and we can still spill our hearts out to each other, we´ll be fine. And I know we´ll be fine. That is why I´m only currently worried about when the next email will come and I am looking forward to sitting down over a drink(or you know…five) and getting drunk for a reasonable price.

And that is another thing I miss from back home – cheap drinking. Where after three beers I did not have to starve for the same amount of weeks. Where the bar route from behind the table to the toilet would always be strangely hilarious after two rounds of special price vodka. And the morning after you could cry for many reasons, but rarely because you drank  away one spontaneous low budget weekend trip to some European metropolis. Also, I miss good old hard Slovak  liquor – which tastes as strong as how shady the nameless label looks like. Where in a pub every shot of it costs one round euro but hold up! why not straight up buy the whole bottle? That way we can get wasted AND save some money! That´s some smart central European thinking for ya. You Brits are still going to call us eastern Europe, you don´t care. But even though the love of drinking brings these regions closer together, we are not the same thing. You should know, with your drinking culture so deeply embedded within, and still, you can spot a drunk Brit miles away. He is tottering and shouting gibberish at the top of his lungs while us central-ers and easterners are sitting at the table shaking our heads. Maybe it is because your liquor is expensive and, pre-mixed already?! Excuse me, but I am not willing to spend 12pounds on a bottle of original Smirnoff Ice. First of all, Smirnoff is an abomination even for half of the prize (hear us central-ers and easterners scoff in the distance), the artifical lemon flavour would be alright but it´s 4.5percent?! After downing down a bottle of vodka ya girl would expect to regret almost any other life decision than just spending money on that said bottle. On top of that, I miss getting some bottles, gathering around in someone´s flat and well, getting wasted. And there´s this lovely atmosphere in the air because you are amongst your own and talk stupidly and laugh at everything and even puking feels more comfortable because you´re almost like at home. I think we all get the sense that in that case it´s more about the people than the drinking. But still, it´s a bit about the drinking as well. The alcohol helps loosen everything up a bit and makes it so much funnier for no bloody reason. Damn, I think this is what I miss the most. I need to find me freaks like that around here. But what I will give you is the idea of dressing up for pre-drinks. I sure like to twirl my head flirty to a sound of some RnB song for the span of ten second snapchat story, admiring my sharp winged liner and swinging hoop earrings. My hand with long painted nails wrapped around a glass of wine, giving the camera the look cause yaas girl I look good!

But enough of alcohol-infused talk now. Or I might get a serious craving and pop into the freezing cold to spend six pounds for a bottle of wine in Tesco, which I would normally not even go for back at home. Desperate times call for desperate measures I guess. Whatever makes me dizzy.

If I were to make a list of things I miss the most from back home it would go like this – 1.my friends, 2.the alcohol, 3.cheap charity shopping. The last two may interchange, depending on the state of mind I´m in. The first one will always stay put though.

There is one more person I miss – I think about that boy every single day. Or I think more about the ways not to think of him. It is not a particularly strong feelings I hold for him – though it sure is something, still. The only way I can describe it is that I am so looking forward to feel his hands on my lower back, his nose pressed against mine. I am looking forward to coming back home for a month, but I know it´s only a pit stop. I´ll be looking forward to being here as well. Even though I am never satisfied and I dwell on all the little odds and sods, somehow I will make this work. Rather than being trapped between two countries, two languages, I´ll summon all my will and creative energy to power through and to quote the iconic figure of our childhood – Hannah Montana – I´ll make “the best of both worlds”.