OK, I admit it. I realise I am a tourist attraction to most of the people in Romania. Particularly men. And I take full advantage of that fact. It pretty much gives me exclusive choice of every man around me, including married and otherwise engaged, so until my tourist attraction veneer rubs off, I am gonna milk this bitch til the shepherds come home. Or I come home. Whichever comes first.
Last night I once again chose my victim - same personality type as shepherd boy before him, not arrogant, controlled when drunk, not a show-off, not a raving lunatic, not full-on trying it on - you know, I'm not picky or anything ;) But yeah, he's also not even 20 so that's good. I feel like Madonna.
Today I woke feeling a little rough and was eternally grateful that my first job was to be a shepherdess to the horses as they grazed the orchard. I promptly laid in the grass and fell asleep, to be woken now and then by the foal muzzling my foot or some other random limb. That cleared my head a little and then it was lunch - a big meal of fresh bread from the market and cheese from the shepherds, and more rabbit food - and onto jam-making. Still feel like a little nap but doubt that'll happen.
Tonight is discotheque night. Hopefully tomorrow is lay-in Sunday.
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