(Yes, I will begin again my promoting some band I’ve recently discovered. In my head, it is related to this entry as it was one of pieces of the soundtrack of my bus ride. How much sense it makes for you is something I refuse to question)
Fighting laziness and catching up with writing: once again, my blog entries make sense neither geographically, nor time-wise. Nonetheless, I somehow disregard these, as I’d like to see them, glitches in the Matrix, and would like to tell you about my not-so-recent adventures in the south. South of Lithuania. Poland, that is.
These adventures, you see, have an unexpected nature. They don’t resemble anything you’ve seen in an action movie. And when I think about them now, maybe only Barney from HIMYM is a character that bravely leads the audience through something similar.
So, my dear readers, the adventures that my old friend, a newly-met couchsurfer, and I were in fact creating for ourselves in Warsaw were of a linguistic nature. We were creating new words with such enviable wisdom and wit (yeah, and some arrogance involved) that I feel the need to share it with you. Another reason I feel this need is panicking that someone else might claim those concepts first.
Like in a well-respected and highly-valued dictionary, let me present those brilliant terms to you:
Church-crawl [noun]: a situation when you find yourself visiting a number of churches in a very brief time, as if these places were the only points of attraction you have decided to go to. It’s similar to a pub crawl just that your ability to walk from one building to another without someone helping you doesn’t diminish as your crawl continues.
Example: “Yeah, it seems our plan to do some sight-seeing today failed completely.” “You know what didn’t fail? Alcohol-seeing.”
Finally, I am about to introduce you to the concept that I must attribute entirely to my friend Tomek. The concept is almost as cool as Tomek himself (almost, as only few words contain so much of awesomeness in themselves).
So. We were happily wandering the streets of Warsaw, looking for a park where a public picnic was supposed to be held. We saw a park, walked towards it, but then, in an instant – or whatever the amount of time is for a young person to spot something hip – we all stopped. We looked at each other, and all had the same semi-evil smirk on our faces. That’s it, screw the picnic, we will walk no more. What was the magic object we saw? Not one, my friends, but many: hammocks. It was an outdoor pub that had hammocks in addition to regular tables and, well, this is where our quest for the picnic ended.
And this is exactly the place and time where a new and incredibly brilliant concept came to my friend’s mind:
“Hmmm looks like our picnic consists only of beer. So it’s not really a picnic, I guess, if there’s no food. Yeah, it’s not a picnic. It’s a…it’s a…booze-nic!”
This is how it appears in my hypothetical dictionary:
Booze-nic [noun]: a picnic that consists only of drinks.
Booze-nic, we have decided, sounds like a Slavic word and thus suited its geographical origins.
Taking a moment to reflect on the past years of my life, I realise I have indeed have some nice booze-nics in my life, and as person who is back to being a poor student, will have some in the future. Only this time I’ll use the correct term when referring to them. Feel free to do the same, and don’t forget to honour the founders of this concept by at least toasting to them.
PS. This entry could have easily been a continuation of my previous piece on friends: I was, once again, spending some hours on a bus to see a friend who I hadn’t seen for a painfully long time. I hope next time we meet we add more to our dictionary while doing some alcohol-seeing.