Erasmusblogs

Think I have the worst room in the dorm: no bedside tables, plumbing problems, dubious central heating, haven’t got a reading lamp -this is really dark! My Italian room-mate, Giuseppe, has stomach ache. He’s gone to Bratislava this weekend and, although I have lent him some pills, he hasn’t taken any. So there they are in his desk among Czech grammar books for beginners and cooking stuff. In short, I have a muddy pond instead of WC and a mate sort of Marco Polo heading for the East.

Finally Giuseppe didn’t go to Bratislava; just pub crawled in Prague and ended up in a Czech Folk bar dancing polka till dawn. The morning after he was sleeping on the floor, and there was a girl in his bed. "Unfortunately we’re only friends," he informed me later.

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I was packing some more clothes, memorizing digital camera advanced functions, trying to decide which books to take and copying the Fabuleux Taboulé recipe from the couscous box. Meanwhile I was recalling that my first meal in France last summer was also a taboulé. "Well, not exactly," said to myself, "Actually it was your second, cause you ate a creamy croissant and an expresso stronger than petroleum at the station." At that point of my daydreaming I pushed the couscous box and it spread all over the room, my desk, shoes…

When asked, "How did you spend your day before Erasmus experience?" I answer, "Been brushing, believe it or not."
On the second day at residence in Prague, I was taking out my books, and when I seized Kafka’s one a lot of couscous fell in the floor. My mate looked at me in astonishment. I said, "You like Fabuleux Taboulé?"

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