On loneliness

Last night, I was celebrating my 28th birthday. For the whole past week, the only thing I could think about was how I regret telling my friends about my intentions to throw a party on a Friday night. I really didn’t feel like partying at all, let alone celebrating my birthday and being at the centre of attention. But, by the time I could call the thing off, it was too late and they all said they’re coming.

It wasn’t the best birthday party from my point of view, let me tell you. Ironically, this morning I received a couple of messages from friends thanking me for inviting them and saying what a great time they had.

Not to be ungrateful or anything, I loved having them over and even more so now that I know they had fun. On that particular night, though, I felt more distant from them than ever. There were numerous situations when I caught myself not even listening to what they were talking about and truth to be told, I can’t recall one meaningful conversation from that night.

At one point during the party, I broke down in tears and was unable to stop it. Some people who were sitting close to me were asking me what had happened but I don’t even remember what I replied. What I do remember, though, was that it miraculously didn’t affect the overall mood and atmosphere, which I was grateful for.

Sitting amongst the group of friends has never felt so lonely. I could almost tangibly feel the abyss between me and them. It was as I weren’t even there. As if I were merely perceiving their presence indirectly, through a screen or a glass wall. And that was the strangest feeling.

Before going to bed, I almost cried my eyes out. My lungs and heart burned and felt heavier than ever. My flatmate got woken up by my howling and went to check up on me, but I couldn’t (and didn’t want to) give him a proper explanation. In the morning, he asked me what happened so I mustered all my strength and began to cry my heart out very awkwardly but was immediately disarmed with his first reaction: “Oh, that again? I thought you were already getting over it.” Okay, I gave up.

Is this age really that rotten by social media that emotions, problems and broken hearts fall into oblivion like yesterday’s posts in our news feed? Are we all condemned to living with masks on our faces, pretending to be that person others see on social media? Opposite to emoticons, likes, tweets and Instagram posts, real people still have real emotions. Our followers will never be able to replace real friends and real relations we have.

At least, that’s how it should be. But then… how is it even possible that the more I try to express my feelings and emotions to my friends, the more lonely I feel? They say it’s not good to hold your emotions in, that you should let them out, but does it help when you do and you end up being either misunderstood, trivialised or worse – not even listened to?

Yesterday, I couldn’t help feeling how our inability to listen and empathise can dig a great big hollow canyon between two people.

And those dreadful canyons make us lonely.

Computers and smart phones make us lonely.

We’re trying to cover our loneliness by working more, posting more, drinking more or shopping more.

But in fact, nothing will ever beat togetherness.

Yesterday, despite being among friends, my mind wandered to a different place. In my thoughts I was with the man I love, the only person I want to be with, the one I cannot be with. I thought about us dancing in the living room to our song. How he sang the song to me and gave meaning to the lyrics. How our noses touch when we’re about to kiss. I was recalling his scent, the funny wrinkles around his eyes, his peaceful voice.

So there, in the middle of the crowd, I went on to fight loneliness by withdrawing into my fantasy.

And amid my day-dreaming, I thought of a poem:

Meet me in the depth of time
amid the uncountable stars.

In a place that only exists
in our perfect fantasies.

Meet me there today
or in a million years

Come to me and stay
You know the way

I would scribble it onto a piece of paper and leave it for him on the pillow or I’d stick it in his pocket and wait impatiently until he finds it.

I certainly would. Were it not for the canyon between us.

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My alter ego

I don’t like labeling. I am sure many of you have the same problem as I do: you’re inbetweeners. Whenever there’s a personality category to fit into, say, introvert/extrovert, melancholic/phlegmatic/sanguine/choleric, you don’t really fit into any.

As I keep saying, world is just not black and white. Life is just not that simple. People are just not that simple. I believe there are different temperaments within each of us, and even though I do not feel comfortable with criticising Hippocrates and his categorization, it just cannot be applied to everybody.

As for me, I like to say I am an extrovert with an introverted heart. I think my love for people and their company doesn’t allow me to become a full time introvert as I would probably die of loneliness. On the other hand, I feel nervous when I’m surrounded with people for much too long and I need to escape into my world.

However, my two personalities were kind of causing me trouble. Here’s an example: I am 100% sure that if people who know only my extroverted side knew I was writing romantic poetry, they probably wouldn’t take it seriously. In fact, if they knew I was doing anything serious, I think they just wouldn’t believe it comes from the heart, maybe they would think I’m playing at something I am not. This is what I really hate about labeling people. I said this hundred times, we’re just not ONE OR THE OTHER. We might be both. Or neither.

For this reason, I decided to create an alter ego. A person who exists only within me, but is unknown to the people who know my physical self. I have been really happy for the last few months for I have been writing a lot and realised this is the only thing in the world I want to be doing. So I decided that Katka will be writing commercial texts – the ones I do at work – for money and Primula will be writing just for pleasure. Katka is the extrovert nobody takes seriously and Primula is a thoughtful, sensitive, emotional and introspective being without a physical body, for she lives inside someone else.

All in all, I created Primula to put a name to my introverted self. And switching between personalities feels so good. When I want to be her, I switch my computer account, instagram account, close the doors of my study and focus only on her thoughts and feelings.

If you want to, you can check her poems.

Keep writing and dreaming up wonderful stories. ❤

Love,
Katka

Grateful to the moon and back

Part one.
JUST ANOTHER LOVELY DAY

Today was just another ordinary Friday and yet, it was special in a way. Why? Maybe because it was the ninth of September – 09/09 – or maybe because it was just another lovely day. And you gotta appreciate it (no matter how trivial it might sound).

I had lunch with my colleague and a very good friend Juraj, had a lovely satisfying burger and a really great chat. We were sort of nostalgically reminiscing about the past year, that is, the time since we met in this startup we both work at. In short, it was a year that changed my life. Not only I met all these amazing people who have deeply influenced my personal development and shaped my opinions, but I guess I’m actually starting to like myself. And that is definitely something of great value.

After lunch, me and Juraj parted and I went to my other work. Currently, I work for three startups, but switching “only” between two offices. The other job I have is equally great. It’s me and six other guys who I get on really well with. We had a real fun today, we were laughing a lot together. When we went for a coffee, we talked about a really good energy that flows around the world today. We couldn’t really explain it, but today everybody just felt GOOD (if I was to put a soundtrack to this day, it would be a choir singing “Oh, happy day” – however cheesy that is).

When I came back home from work, I met with my housemate for just a couple of minutes before he went out. This is yet another amazing person in my life. I could never say one negative thing about him, except for how messy he is and how clumsy he is and how he cannot hang clothes properly, etc. But, hell, those things don’t matter one bit. I love him and he’s a great guy. I was gonna go out as well, but in the end, decided to stay home and it’s only great that I have. I had a sudden kick of creativity and was writing poems for a couple of hours and it felt so good.

Part two.
WHEN YOUR JOB IS NOT JUST WORK

Then, I don’t even know why because I don’t normally do that, I started to read my old blog posts from before I got my first creative job – in July 2015. Reading them was fascinating because I could clearly see the development not only in my writing but in my personality as well. In a nutshell: there was a time when I was unemployed and writing was my hobby, followed by a dark period when I was working for one of the biggest corporations in the world. After they fired me (thank god!) I was unemployed again but desperately looking for a job, lacking money and went through this phase of depression and insomnia. And then… there’s the last 13 months.

I found out one funny thing. The only time I was creating blog posts that sound like me (as I define myself) was the first period – of me being unemployed but not really caring that much about finding a job. And the only time I hated what I wrote was the two dreadful months in this corporate world… (yeah, I only lasted for two months haha).

And it’s funny how reading these blog posts from this dark period now makes me oh so grateful for what I have. Only now I realise that I’m actually living my dream. I’m living the life I wanted back in February/March 2015 but I didn’t think I’ll actually get there any time soon.

Let me quote myself from my blog post 180 degrees from February 4, 2015:

“Speaking about time, it seems like I don’t have time to spare for good many other things: the worst being writing and blogging. Now my day ends at time when it usually only started. At 11 pm/midnight I used to sit behind my desk and write. Now I am preparing for bed. At 3 am/4 am I was reading through what I had written that night and considering calling it a day. By that time now I am in the realm of dreams. I am no longer a night owl, who loved when the house got silent and the thoughts got loud.”

-> I felt utterly sad and depressed like a bird in a little cage. A bird that isn’t allowed to fly might as well not be a bird at all. I felt like this poor bird and this job was ripping my wings off. I couldn’t be a night owl anymore. A 9-5 kind of job was killing me slowly.

Here’s another one from the same blog post:

“Now I’ve got a full time job and it’s paid so I had to make blogging only my hobby. That makes me sad. I only now realised why so many people want to blog for a living. Because to have a full time job and to blog for free means to choose between the two. It is a Sophie’s choice isn’t it? Money or freedom. Wouldn’t it be great not having to make that choice?”

-> This rhetorical question makes me smile today. I remember this poor Katka, writing it and genuinely believing that THIS will be her life. Working for a company she hates, going to work that restricts her freedom. I honestly never ever, not even in my wildest dreams, thought that I will ever be making money with writing. And what was making me so sad then, makes me so happy today.

And the last one:

“Writing is something transcendental. You enter a whole different world. When you write it’s just you and your thoughts. TIME and SPACE is essential for entering this magical transcendental world. It’s really hard dealing with contracts, communicating with business partners and answering their emails while keeping your thoughts clean to write at the same time. Those worlds are poles apart.
Writing is freedom. To be free in lifeto do what you loveto keep your thoughts clean is the greatest priviledge. I am hoping one day I will become this free.”

-> My job then, and my personality were worlds apart. That wasn’t me. By the end of the blog post, I expressed my humble hope – to be free and to keep my thoughts clean. I remember exactly how I meant it. I thought then, that my thoughts were somehow spoilt by that money-and-success oriented corporate world. It was just pure brainwash. A soul-devouring job. I remember every time I came back home from work, I was just staring into a white wall and couldn’t even produce one good thought that would be worth of writing down. It was simply impossible for me. I couldn’t escape to that transcendental world because my thoughts were just not clean.

There are some other blog posts, such as A Sunday 11:59 pm quote and Life in a rabbit warren that reflect my dislike of this place.

To me, money was never a motivation. My motivation is to be satisfied with the way I live my life. And my current job makes me love the way I live which makes me so happy I could die.

Part three.
PEOPLE HAVE THE POWER

Today I thought about people a lot. I am an extrovert with an introverted heart. I love people. They recharge my energy whenever I need recharging. When I am among people, I enjoy their company, I love to have a good laugh. When I’m alone, I like to think about them, about me and relationships in general. I love being a lone wolf as much as I love company.

People are the best mirror to you. If they like your company even if you bring no material benefit to them, you know you’re doing something right. I sometimes think about famous or successful or rich people and I feel genuinely sorry for them. If I was famous, I wouldn’t know whether someone is my friend only because I’m famous or because he genuinely wants to be my friend. I think that’s why many rich and famous feel so lonely, depressed and sad. They hide. They go crazy because even though they love their jobs, they just wish to be that no-name person again. To go back to this sort of age of innocence. (I honestly don’t know, that’s just my assumption.)

My best friends are those who I can bring no other benefit to, except being a good friend. My best friends are those to whom I cannot give anything else except my love and joy. And that is actually a greater wealth than money.

Having a value as a person. Priceless. (As the famous commercial goes.)

People will give back to you what you give to them. You mirror each other, without you even realizing it. You shape each other. That’s what’s the most fascinating thing about friendships -> the reciprocity. You don’t realize how much the other person affects you.

I am 100% sure that I wouldn’t be the same if I hadn’t known some of the people I met in the last year. Isn’t it amazing? Just by meeting someone, your life may change, you may change. The energy that you exchange with other person is enormous and has a great impact on you both.

My father says: If you live in a way it improves someone else’s life, you know you didn’t live in vain and you may die in peace.

Imagine great people like Nelson Mandela, Gandhi, or Dalai Lama. Or writers, like Tolkien for example, or Rowling or Hesse or Kafka, whose books influenced millions and millions of people. I can’t even imagine how it must feel to leave such a trace.


Today, me and Juraj were talking about religion. We’re both atheists. However, I’d say we’re atheists in the systematized notion of faith. I definitely believe in something. I just don’t want to believe in some abstract externality who I subordinate to. Why would I do that? Isn’t this my own life? My own couple of decades? I want to believe in physical people around me and in physical, tangible things around me. As for the abstract, I believe in the metaphysical energies and powers that flow in between these physical beings. If religion means to believe in something abstract, transcendental, then I want kindness to be my religion. After all, isn’t the ultimate goal of any religion to make you a better person? (And often, it does the exact opposite, pardon me.)

And speaking of becoming a better person: Today I was reminiscing about the past. I read my old email application I sent to my boss – now my friend – who hired me for this job.

I felt a sudden need to go to him and hug him for that. (Although I know he’d feel a bit awkward if I did.) He saved me. My first writing job. Ever since, my life has taken a good course – I have become a freelance content writer for two other companies.  And thanks to him, thanks to this little coincidence (because I found the job offer by coincidence) I met people who are now my dear friends. They inspire me every day and make me a better person every day and I will be forever grateful to them for that.

I can be myself. I can write. I can be creative. I can be a night owl. I can wear whatever I want. Wake up whenever I want. Laugh and cry whenever I want.

And only today I realised I haven’t been grateful enough. Only today when I read my old blog posts, I was like: Shit, Katka, how even dare you not appreciating what you’ve got? This is what you wanted and you’re procrastinating at work? You’re slacking off? You’re making all these excuses of having a creativity block or a burn out syndrome?

I should be more grateful for what I have.

We should be more grateful for what we have.

And we should thank and love the people who helped us on our way.

(I really do think that literally NOBODY is going to read this. 2032 words. Anyway, this blog post is more for me. I just want to leave this here for me.)

The day Bali made me cry

This post is about our last day and night in Pemuteran – a village in the North West of Bali. 


I woke up to knowing this is our last day in the North, the second place in Bali I fell utterly in love with. I remember hating the thought of leaving Ubud as much as I hated the thought of having to leave Pemuteran.

Leaving all this: taking a shower under the stars, sitting on the porch while looking at coconut palm trees and Frangipani flowers, eating breakfast that Kadek prepared for us every morning, watching the incredible beauty of sea-life, being among the kindest people I’ve ever met.

So, this morning is no different. Kadek cooks us some eggs and toast for breakfast, makes us Balinese coffee and a fresh pineapple juice. He’s set the bar so high I am wondering whether I’ll ever again enjoy my breakfast.

We spend the day on the beach. We just lie around, swim, drink fresh coconut water, you know… tough life. Just like the day before, I went collecting the trash the sea washed up on the beach. I was picking one piece of litter after another and bringing it to my little pile close to where we were sitting.

I was just thinking how awesome it would be if I had a plastic bag so I don’t have to do it one by one. Then – magic happened. The sea just washed a plastic bag up the beach. Thank you sea.

You know what they say: If life gives you lemons, make a lemonade. I created my own saying: If you want to collect trash from the sea, the sea will provide you with a plastic bag.

I felt it all falling into place: For almost every piece of plastic I picked up from the sand, there was a reward – a beautiful sea shell or stone I wouldn’t notice otherwise. Thank you beach.

The beach and the sea of Pemuteran recharged me with so much energy it still keeps me high-spirited up until now – more than two weeks after.

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Later that afternoon, Kadek leads us up to the main Hindu temple on a nearby hill. Wulan, a little 10-year-old daughter of our host Juli comes along with us, too.

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Every once in a while, a little temple crosses our path. Kadek kneels before it, burns a scented stick, puts little presents inside a little box – offerings to gods – and recites a short prayer. Seeing him fills me with peace.

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We’re absolutely exhausted, the path is quite steep and the air is hot and humid. We’re almost out of breath. Every temple Kadek stops at is like a redemption for us – we have an excuse to rest for a bit, drink water and look at the view over Pemuteran bay. With our tongues sticking out like dogs, of course.

When we get to the temple, Kadek takes out three sets of sarongs – traditional clothes that people wear to temples – and ties it around our waists for us. In the meantime, he talks about the temple we’re about to go to. It’s a sacred place for them, it’s called a “chair rock” in Indonesian because it’s built on a chair-shaped rock.

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To be brutally honest, the temple was… well… nothing much. It was basically a cheap construction built on a rock, iron pipes and wooden planks randomly assembled and nailed together so they create a steady construction. There was practically nothing inside. On the edge, there was a small altar with a statue. Still, it was probably the most amazing temple I’ve ever been to. It was beautiful in its ugliness. It was an amazing representation of what religion and faith should be all about. About spiritual moments. Humble altars that bring out the beauties of the mind, not the material riches.

When Kadek is finished with his prayers, we go a bit further to the edge of the hill to watch the sunset. Kadek takes off his shoes and walks barefoot, just like he always does in the homestay. I smile and think about it either as a nice statement of shoe aversion or declaration of freedom and love for nature at the same time. When we get to the hill, we sit on a rock and wait. In the meantime, we ask Kadek whether he’s ever thought about going abroad, trying out luck somewhere outside Bali. Apparently, he’s never been to any other place than Bali and I think it’s only good he hasn’t. I’m afraid the outer world would spoil him.

Kadek is a pure soul. He always wears a smile on his face. His smile is sincere and spontaneous. He doesn’t have much, but he smiles. He’s got his life. Nature. Good job. Family. Friends. Isn’t that enough? (Why don’t we smile more, then?)

He’s kind, helping, genuine, grateful. He’s an ambitious and hardworking person in a place where hard work does not really support the ambition. He hates shoes. He likes to just sit and think. Simple things. Simple life.

The sun is setting over the Pemuteran bay. We don’t talk much. We’re just sitting on the rock, serene and harmonious, watching the sun going down. Just like it goes down every single day but it will be a different sun for us tomorrow.

I notice a tear running down my cheek. Happiness. Pure happiness.

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We go down the hill feeling tired, happy and … hungry! Down in the village, we choose a random, nice looking restaurant and settle in. They tell us there’s going to be live music later on that evening. Nice one!

The waiters bring us food. It’s delicious (no surprise). We drink beer (it’s delicious). The waiters are super nice to us (no surprise again). For some reason, we’re very silent. We’re breathing in the atmosphere, breathing out satisfaction.

Then the musicians start playing. The band is six young and hot Balinese guys playing with such energy and joy it just makes you smile. After about the third song, my emotions start spilling out in a form of a second tear. Bali made me cry out of happiness twice in one day. Thank you Bali.


The night ended up in a bash. There was a woman – Amanda – who in about half an hour made everyone in the bar dance. I was feeling a bit self-conscious at first, me not being really that keen on dancing. But hell, that night the whole bar danced like no one was watching. Barefoot, sweaty and happy.

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The guys were amazing, making up lyrics on the go, forgetting the playlist, playing whatever songs their hearts and our hearts craved at that moment. Beauty. Love. Perfection.

Thank you so much Pemuteran. Terima Kasih Bali for all.

I don’t care if I’m being too sentimental. I needed to get it out of my heart. ❤

Glitter and Tears

The reason why I don’t blog much these days is that I am writing a book. Haha. No shit. It’s called “Glitter and Tears” and in the future, I’d like to share bits of it on my blog. Before I do so, however, let me introduce this little attempt at a book of mine.

Why “glitter and tears”?

The title not only represents the two poles of the main character’s personality but of life as it is. I often think about how sad it is that the world is black and white. You’re either happy or sad. Healthy or sick. Good or bad. Alive or dead.

But I don’t think the world is black and white. Or should be. It strives to be full of colours, only us – people – turn it either black or white with our one-sided thoughts. For more than a year now, I’ve had this thought in my head. If everybody has a purpose in life – a trace he or she leaves on this planet – what is mine? Usually, our genetic codes, beliefs, thoughts and memories remain embodied in another person – our child. But I don’t believe having children and helping save the population is our only purpose. We should also attempt to make a change. And if I was to contribute to a change – it would be the change of people’s black and white thinking.

I want to do so via this book.

The main character’s life, in fact, is black and white. She suffers from the bipolar affective disorder, she’s bisexual, has both feminine and masculine features, her whole life revolves around extremes. 

Her life is like day and night. During the day, she’s worried about the night, at night, she doesn’t see the day coming. In the night, she’s wallowing in the darkness unable to get up and turn on the light.

People tag her as weird and unpredictable. Being happy and cheerful one time and sad and miserable another time makes her look immature, unpredictable, unstable, pretentious, deceitful, suspicious, fake… And yet, she doesn’t let her bipolarity define her.


In a nutshell, it is a story about a girl who fights stereotypes, judgements and close-mindedness by living a life on the edge. It is a story that is – just like her life – both amusing and fun but also painful and sad. But more than anything, it is a story about finding love. Not only a romantic kind of love but love in the purest sense of the word – love as the fundamental principle of the human race.

I do not know whether I’ll ever finish it. I don’t know whether someone will ever publish it if I do. But if the book ever hits the shelves of bookshops, I think it’s only good it will happen in Slovakia. Because I think that people here need a scapegoat. Someone who would challenge their moral philosophy. Someone who would sacrifice their reputation to open their eyes. And I want this to be Mila, the main character of the book.

To be or not to be yourself

“Togetherness has a price: the loss of individuality.” Edvard Munch

I’ve been in a relationship continuously since I was 17. Not with the same person, of course. In the course of 9 years, I had maybe 7 boyfriends. I was jumping from one relationship to another, was never single for more than a month or two. Relationships were so easy then. Since my average relationship lasted for about 6 months, I can say I was constantly switching habits, people around me, hobbies, languages, lifestyles…

Up until last year. After 9 years I practically forgot how it feels like to be single. To be myself, just like I am. To do as I please, not having to take anyone else into account.

Now, the tables turned. After one and a half years of being single, I can barely remember how it felt like being in a relationship. I guess a lot of things changed since my dating era. The world has changed. I changed. Relationships are not as easy now as they used to be.

People often say that a perk of a single life is that you can find yourself. You can discover your true self. I don’t know now whether I wasn’t entirely myself during my years of being in a relationship. But I get now what people mean when they say that.

Right now, I feel entirely myself. I feel like I don’t have to be a better version of myself just to please someone else. I know what I want and what I don’t. To a fault, so it seems.


You know how people are. You’re a human, too. We always want the thing we don’t have. And when we finally get the thing we wanted, we long for something different. There are days when I feel extremely lonely. Days when I long for a relationship. But you can’t hurry love, right?

Sometimes, it seems to me that people around me are more concerned about me finding a boyfriend than I am. My friends tell me: Go on a date or something. Find someone on Tinder. So I tried but there’s always a problem. We never really clicked with the guy. Either from my side or his. When the latter happens, my friends come up with the most elaborate theories why the guy didn’t like me. “Try less lipstick, lose the baggy clothes, don’t wear black all the time – wear something more cheerful, cut down the amount of wine, fags etc., put on something sexy, skip the turtlenecks, don’t let him know you’re interested, be reserved, don’t laugh that much… And like I said in my previous blog post: Don’t show emotions!” Tired? I am.

All in all: Be what guys want you to be. 

I can’t remember whether I used to change for guys back in my “relationship era”. But I guess I must have, otherwise they wouldn’t pursue me the way they did then. And since all the 7 boyfriends I had were different, I guess I must have adjusted to suit whatever personality they had and lifestyles they led. I lost my individuality. Or maybe up until then, I never had a personality of my own.

This reminds me of one of my favourite quotes:

“They made us believe that each of us is the half of an orange, and that life only makes sense when you find that other half. They did not tell us that we were born as whole, and that no one in our lives deserves to carry on his back such responsibility of completing what is missing in us: we grow through life by ourselves. If we have good company it’s just more pleasant.” John Lennon

I was the half of an orange. At times, I felt like a freshly squeezed half of an orange, turned into an orange squash.

And now that I’m the whole thing, someone’s trying to cut me in half again. I won’t let it happen. This one and a half years taught me that I’d rather walk through my whole life on my own than to let somebody restrict my hardly attained self.

Take me in my black and grey unsexy clothes, with my good and bad moods, my emotions spilling over the banks, grunting laughter, clumsy behaviour. Or not.

This is the package, love it or hate it. I might love or hate yours just the same.

Destiny street

Bratislava, the city I come from and where I currently live, is a capital of Slovakia (in case you didn’t know, which I wouldn’t blame you for one bit). Despite that, living here sometimes feels like living in a village.

Why? Well… The city center is really small, you can get everywhere on foot in less than half hour, I can’t go out without meeting someone I know by chance, everybody knows everybody – at least so it seems… And my life in Bratislava sort of revolves around this one street – Grosslingova. If it was the street I live on, it wouldn’t be weird at all. But I don’t. I live quite far away from there (but then again, define “far” in Bratislava).

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When I was little, I needed a math tutoring for I’ve always been a mathematical anti-talent and this math tutor of mine lived on Grosslingova street. I went to high school and my undergrad college here. I met my first great love as well as many good friends on this street. My third boyfriend lived on this street, too. So did my ninth boyfriend. And guess where my new workplace is located?

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A peek through the fence of my high school. The building was built in 1908, together with the “Blue Church” in the background.

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Then…

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And now.

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My “alma mater”, Bratislava liberal arts college, where I did my bachelor’s.

And it’s not even some very significant, or busy street. It is in the city center, yes, but it’s a quiet, mostly residential street. Despite that, there are many cool places. There’s a flower shop, tea shop and a beautiful tailoring shop owned by father and two sons. There are maybe four hipsterish cafés and restaurants, one of which is called “La Cocotte”, which is a super cool pun – if spelled differently, “cocotte” is a Slovakian swear word. There are three bio/vegan shops – one of them right next to the butcher shop. And yeah, three schools – two of which I attended.

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A long time ago, there was an orphanage in this building. It’s completely overgrown with ivy and it’s one of my most favourite houses on Grosslingova.

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I know every corner of it. And so many of those corners bring back fond memories.

I hardly think it’s a coincidence that I keep coming back to this street. Maybe it’s some kind of a sign. Maybe I’ll live on Grosslingova one day. Maybe I’ll meet my future husband here. Or what if I already have? Who knows 🙂

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