Living close to parents of one of you definitelly has its up-sides, no doubt. It’s not at all difficult if you can mutually respect each others space and avoid each other a bit. But once it was decided, we knew it was always inevitable. It was a part of our destiny to experience how it is living in a.. well, not a city but a little bigger town. There is always a trigger that raises up this kind of decisions but I guess we were just waiting for a sign to move.
Once you make a good decision, everything that follows goes incredibly smoothly. We went to see two other places but when we saw this one, we loved it immediatelly. It was quite easy to haggle around rent, we even got a half-off at first rent if we cleaned it before moving in and paint a bit. The flat was on 5th floor over looking river Drava on the edge of city centre. Meaning it is not far to go out but far enough you don’t hear electronic music banging all night. It was in a very old building with extremelly thick walls, so you couldn’t hear the neighbors drilling next door. For the whole time we were living there, we met two of the mostly elderly neighbors. We decided to give a little bribe to the janitor for a little space in the basement to put our bikes in, she said that was the best home made marmelade she ever ate, and we met our next door neighbor the day we moved out. The best part was, it was party furnished, it had exactly the stuff we didn’t have. Well, it had a dining table but we had just bought a wrecked antique table that we decided to restore and forced our friends to carry the damn thing up the 88 quite high steps around very narrow corners just to find out that it just doesn’t fit through the door by a few centimeteres. I stepped up when Mitja decided to borrow a wood saw at a construction sight next door and said: “Sorry, guys, we are taking it down again.” Yeah, sorry guys. Absolute highlight of the first day was discovering that a pizza delivery guy comes the whole five floors up.
The paint was still drying when we accepted our first couchsurfer. A french amateur photographer with a desire to explore as much of Maribor as possible, stood in the middle of all the boxes, wondering how could we host strange people when we weren’t even completelly moved in. Our internet connection was still depending on neighbor’s unwilling hospitality, with a little help of an antenna sticking out the window. Since Mitja also likes to take photos, they shared some tricks of the trade, sharing knowledge is just as rewarding as sharing life through couchsurfing, I guess. Just as we were about to ask what would he like to see and where would he like to go, he announced, he had plans to meet a girl from CS for a coffee and if we would like to join them. Awkward situation, meeting a girl and all, we said no, plus we were really looking forward to getting some well deserved rest. He won’t be long, he said. It was way past eleven thirty when he still didn’t show. ” What are we, his parents?” Mitja asked, “he is a big boy, I’m sure he is fine.” So, we went to bed. Waking up, realizing that the french dude didn’t come home that night was a shock therapy at its best. No matter how ok it is to be undetached to your couchsurfer, you definitelly feel somewhat responsible for them. Luckily I remembered that he gave me his number in one of the messages but before I could find it, he came back. The worrying was quickly replaced with a sence of relief and than rapidly switched to a bit of anger. Explaining to a grown man that it simply isn’t cool not to call or even write a little text, aged me for a decade or two. I felt like a mommy, throwing bits of dirt on what it must have been a great night. If it was worth forgeting general politeness, and he claimed it was, than who am I to spit on that?! Good for you, man.