I guess I spoke too soon on the whole "no more carnal temptation" thing.
Last night, when I arrived in my hostel in Zagreb, what did I encounter but two Swedish girls (yes, Swedish girls) walking around in their underwear, nonchalantly chatting me up about this and that. I say "this and that" because I blacked out and have no idea what we actually talked about. Pillow fights and bikini tours, I imagine.
Typical hostel environment.Damned Swedes and their casual regard for the human form. Thank God for sleeping pills.
With only an afternoon to kill before I "split" for the coast (you'll get that joke by the next blog post), I duck into a botanical garden near the train station. Pretty cool, actually. I get to play with turtles, despite strict Croatian laws forbidding me to do so.
NO TOUCHING!I feel like Master Splinter.
Quit playing grab-ass and start fighting some crime, you lazy turtles!Oh, and I get to see some real-life criminal intrigue. A bunch of cops and reporters are clustered around an old townhouse, where, at least according to the slackjawed gawkers milling about, a "mafioso" is being taken down.
"So, uh, did you see those Swedish chicks from earlier in the blog post? Pretty... pretty... pretty nice! What, that was a good Larry David! You don't watch 'Curb'? You should, it's pretty funny! Shit, here comes the chief, act serious." (Note: This caption funniest when read in thick Eastern European accent.)Some day, my baby turtles will clean up this town.
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