Memory book of my mind: Ohrid

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31. März 2009 von ostprobe

Ice Ice Baby

Ice Ice Baby

This blog entry is written in English in order to include my good friends Eki and Ludo, which hosted me so warmly in Ohrid. Vhala for everything.

Terrace. A center of life for each that calles himself a chiller. Pancakes with chocolate and banana, Alexandria wine at breakfast, Housewife for the length of a bridge game, violette dreams, Romeo light meko, te sakam or not, where is the beachbag, all about the process,…

Kamagel. When it’s nice and warm and like spending-the-night-with-beer-in-buckets-on-the-terrace, there are always THEM as well: moskitos. Even persons that have salved themselves to autan-ists find their ankles with red swallows the next morning. Of course, i could be more disciplined (german) and stop scratching. Or cover myself all over (arabian) or just take KAMAGEL (yugoslavian). A cooling and healing wonder of modern medicine. Unfortunately it sounds like „come again“. An invitation that no moskito misses.

Boats. What’s a moped in Neapel, is a boat in Ohrid. During the night they take over the never ending rhythem of the lake. At daytime well tanned bodies do the same on their matress. Sometimes a complete dj equipment shakes along the coast on a rowing boat, because the beach is too hidden to come by with car.
The sun hits her heat on the ground. Four Bikini-Girls have taken a seat in the boat of Zlado and are spreading now the oil on their skin. I’m one of them. Zlado, well experienced in rowing, triggers a place where the water is the clearest. A jump from the boat and the yellow shorts, glittering bikinis and light sunburnes appear in a new perspective. And after having climbed in again, my legs have taken over new colours as well. A mixture of green, blue, red and purple. Outsch. But i couldn’t drive a moped even better.

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