Through my endurance and attempt to stay until the end of the ski season, I have accomplished but one thing. I am now a ghost in this abandoned hotel.
I wait for quiet hours to eat, in an attempt to avoid other volunteers.
It’s not that I dislike them, only that we are different. Different is sometimes good, but in this instance it is frustrating. I often find myself warding off belittling comments.
I have announced my leave twice now… twice too many. It has now become a joke between some.
A joke that I also find funny – but also annoying to myself.
Through my indecisiveness, I have made myself sick.
A friend of mine asked why I don’t return home for a while… My response was as follows.
“Did Frodo return to the Shire for a rest on the way to Mordor?”
And so I took today off to recover.
I slept well last night.
I awoke and made myself a fried egg sarnie, whilst watching the remaining episodes of “The Witcher” on Netflix.
Twelve o’clock came around and so I exchanged my free lunch voucher for a beef goulash in the volunteer scheme’s restaurant.
By this point, I had decided I would take a stroll to the local source of spring water. The Smokovecká kyselka.
Almost everywhere I have been thus far, the locals have said the same thing… our water is the best around.
I’m sure I have missed a few on my travels already, but Slovakia is the first place that I have found real spring water.
You can taste the minerals. The fizz from natural gases.
Although the taste is off – in comparison to our adulterated tap water – it feels incredibly healthy to drink.
I took the funicular down to the small town of Starý Smokovec, then preceded on foot to the spring.
I met the most wonderful older lady there, filling her recycled bottles with this powerful water.
She told me the history of the spring and how there were two taps originally, both protected by beautifully carved wooden arbors.
Nowadays there is only one spring operational… and a corporation controlling it. Nothing new.
Still, the people of Starý Smokovec are fortunate to have the one still available, and that wonderful lady improved my spirit, just by sharing her knowledge with me as we filled our bottles.
I parted ways with the wonderful older lady, Elise, and decided to take the forty-five-minute walk up to Hrebienok.
I spoke to three girls with their sled on the way up, from Slovakia, Hungary, and Italy.
I think I must have made a name for myself as the boy in the red coat and shorts amongst the Starý Smokovec and Hrebienok tourists.
Many people laugh and make a comment when they see me walking through the snow in shorts.
Finally, my conclusion is to leave the ski-resort on Monday, with apologies to Monika, my dear friend, and co-ordinator here in the Slovakian mountains.
I will return to Germany to retrieve my package from home and continue my journey south into Italy.
On another note, I have been backdating some of my posts and I realised the subscription email hasn’t been sending those, so here is the previous post I wrote: Settling into the Bavarian Countryside.
I hope you enjoy that post and all the others I am yet to write, including my Winter Slovakian Stories.
I will sign off now and enjoy my Slovakian springwater.
