Maia's (Mis)adventures

With the laughter and merriment of the wedding still ringing in my ears, and a joyful heart, I hop on a train back to Vienna, two months after my first visit. I didn't have plans to return so soon, but if this trip has shown me anything, it's that what I plan to do and what I actually end up doing, rarely follow the same path. After the body painting competition, I was feeling rather...untethered. Like a helium balloon, released from the hands of a child, I was suddenly adrift in the wind, with no direction to my desires. I was texting my friend Lukas (you may remember him from my last Vienna post, or from Zrce Beach in Croatia), and admitted to him, "I'm not sure what I'm doing now. All I want is somewhere quiet to work on my book, which is nearly impossible in hostels. My next goal is just to find somewhere to hide for a while." "Well...there's an apartment in Vienna you could hide in," he responded. "I work during the day and in the eve...

I still feel sick, and I know I should be resting, but I can't condone spending an extra two nights in Klagenfurt and seeing nothing but the festival grounds. To Atlas Obscura I go! There are only a few entries for this town, but they look interesting. Minimundus. Over a hundred models of important buildings from all over the world. Sounds kinda weird. I'm down. I get up in the morning and walk nearly an hour along the canal to get to this strange, mini amusement park. It's pretty dope, honestly. It's an interesting feeling to look at small replicas of places I have been before. Stephansdom in Vienna, Fisherman's Bastion in Budapest, and so on. To be able to see the full thing, peering down, instead of only a section, peering up. Something about the tiny versions makes the real ones seem even more grand. Stephansdom, Vienna Fisherman's Bastion, Budapest Texas, represent! "Remember the Alamo!" Klagenfurt...I like it here. ...

As worn out as I am from Hard Island, Zrce, and Novalja in general, I find it hard to leave. It's two in the afternoon on the day of my departure and I still haven't purchased a bus ticket or confirmed a hostel for tonight. I lie on the beach, sweating in my clothes, and continue toying with the idea of hitchhiking to Zadar today. But the afternoon is getting on, and with my ferry departing the next day, and missing it simply not an option, I decide against it, hike my pack onto my shoulders and march on to the bus station. I guess, after 8 solid days, it's time to leave this place. My reluctance surprises me, since I'm not keen to continue partying, and that's all Novalja is, but there is something lethargic in my bones, and my feet drag on my way out of town. I arrive in Zadar at nearly 6pm, cross my fingers I haven't screwed myself out of a decent hostel by arriving so late (in the middle of high season with no reservation), and head to the Drunken Monkey...