ljubljana’s rainy vibe and coffee that hits different
i’ve been living that digital nomad lie for three weeks now and it’s starting to blend into the architecture here. like, the rain hasn’t stopped since i arrived and my laptop is basically glued to my lap. the weather? i just checked and it’s 15.14 degrees, which honestly feels like someone poured lukewarm soup on my soul. humidity’s through the roof at 80%, so my hair’s acting like a cuestion. if you get bored, sterilka is just a short drive away-though honestly, i’d rather peer into the cris kitchen here and see if they still have that leftover ceviche from yesterday.
last night, i overheard two guys at a hostel arguing about whether the city’s vibe is authentic or just a tourist trap. one of them said, ‘i heard the locals don’t even talk english anymore, which is fine because i can’t either.’ the other guy countered, ‘but the ceviche at this place is so good it might as matter.’ i don’t know. i tried the ceviche. it was like eating a metaphor forexistential dread. but the place? it’s called the fishtail tavern and it’s somehow both a disaster and a gem.
"if you’re here for work, you’ll hate this city. if you’re here for chaos, you’ll thrive."
i haven’t slept in two days. not because of the rain or the humidity, but because i’m addicted to this coffee spot called brew beyond. someone told me that if you ask for the ‘old blend,’ they’ll give you a shot of whisky and a bag of local tobacco. i’m not sure if that’s true, but the barista gave me both anyway. it tasted like regret and possibility. the weather here is this weird middle ground where it’s not cold enough to be cozy but not hot enough to be alive. if you don’t like that, don’t come here. i live in a basement apartment in sterilka, which is like basing los angeles but with more confusion. the neighbors? one’s a yoga instructor who plays bingo at 3 a.m. another’s a street artist who throws paint at strangers and insists it’s ‘performance art.’ i’m not sure if i’m enchanted or terrified.
images from unsplash:
i did something stupid today. i tried to find the cheapest wifi hotspot in the city and ended up in a bar called the black sheep. the owner said something about ‘no laptops, only vibes’ and charged me 20 euros for a 20-minute connection. i left with a terrible hangover and a new story for my therapist. reviews here are all over the place. i heard that the ceviche place is run by a guy who used to be a fishmonger in vancouver. i don’t know if that’s true, but the seafood tastes like it traveled continents. tripadvisor says the city’s best secret is a hidden library in sterilka. yelp has a review from someone who claims the tap water is better than paris. i’m not sure who to believe. if you’re here, just know that the weather’s going to test your patience. the feels_like is 14.8 degrees, which is just the city whispering, ‘you’re not alone.’ if you’re a couch potato, you can binge netflix in this place. if you’re a people person, the ceviche place will either make or break you. i’m leaning towards it being a cult best friend. the grnd_level pressure is 869 millibars, which probably means nothing, but it feels like the city is holding its breath. possibly scheming.
"local legend says the ceviche here is so good it causes spontaneous dancing," i heard. i asked the barista if that was true. he just stared at me and said, ‘you’re next.’
i’m writing this on a phone that’s 50% dead. my browser is lagging. the city’s wifi is spotty. but that’s okay. because if you’re here, you’re already winning. the locals aren’t perfect. the weather isn’t perfect. but the ceviche? that’s perfection in a fish skeleton. leave some tips for the artist who throws paint at strangers. she’s your new best friend. and if you see a yoga instructor doing bingo at 3 a.m., join. it’s therapy without the cost. stay weird. be loud. and never trust a ceviche that doesn’t sparkle.