KHM Stands For Kunst-Something-Huge-Museum

I start this entry on a Word document. You may wonder why. You are right to do so. Well, as the common sense must has told you, one starts an entry on a Word document when said someone has no access to the Internet. Of course, the lot of you would also think „If I can’t get on the Internet, I don’t post. Plain and Simple.” Well, that’s You, my dear, not me. Of course, if you see this posted, it means that I’ve got good access to the Internet within two hours, otherwise this will be another entry draft lost in the depths of my computer, never to be retreived and the one day erased away because I need the valuable byte space it’s eating up. Memories are treated with unseen cruelty by us.

My second day in Wien has started with me rising right when the breakfast finished, so I fished out a bottle of applejuice from the minibar and had it. Then arranged my plans for the day, which so far had been twisted out of their axe. Lets start with the deceiving Tiberius store, which promised „fashion&books” from the gay side of the town, and it opens at noon and discloses only CLOTHES! I don’t want clothes, I want a gay novel. I already finished Intimate Evil and I need my refil, and no, there’s no gay stuff in L’Évanguil du Satan... at least I don’t think so. Annoyed, I walked down to the Museum Quartier to take advantage of the 2x1 Leopold Museum and this KHM... and they don’t take credit cards! Only Maestro. Who in the fucking HELL has a Maestro card in Costa Rica? I so gara cry to Raiffeisen to make one for me, so I can spend in Wien. I’m beyond devastated. So I’ve got one Adult ticket with my very last 10€ in cash, because when I went for my dictionary, which I’ve got (9,20€ and lacks a fucking lot of words!) the bookstore, Libro (the Austrian counterpart of the Hungarian Libri, I believe) takes no creditcard! To say that I am horrified is an understatement. I mean, I would like to go live in Budapest again, get a job and the whole shebang, BUT my aunt and Jules insist that Wien is so much better and so much civilized, and so much classy, and beautiful... what do I do in a city that closes stores and restaurants at 19 hrs and doesn’t take creditcards? Carry cash and get home early?

Okay, give me five minutes to stop laughing histerically.

Thank you, I’m much better, yes.

So, back to the story. I go to the Museum that Doesn’t Take Credit Cards, and in the way there’s this little fair-like with wooden huts and lovely stuff to buy, including some exceedingly beautiful Murano Glass jewelry. I spend the last of my cash, go check the pictures, and though there are beautiful, and I have discovered that I LOVE Caravaggio (Michaelangelo Merini) and some other painters with names I can’t remember, but who have painted incredibly beautiful pieces, and I find miself in love with Tiziano, the painter... get „scolded” because I took a picture and the flash went off without being intended, I finally realize it would be good to put some solid food in my tummy and got to this luxuriant caffé inside the Museum. I hope there’s some wireless to come with the lunch, but they don’t even have the Käsesandwich I so clumsily tried to order (cheese sandwich. All the others didn’t sound nice enough for me). Okay, coke and truftorte. There is some kind of wireless too. One of the KHM with a killer signal quality and one other with the poorest signal quality in town. What the hell happened? Though both of them are open networks, the killer needs to connect with the network and that takes it so much time I would be waiting here until I become an ancient art piece myself. The other one is so poor it blinks: connected-disconnected-connected-disconnected. Nagi doesn’t like it, gets impatient and says: „Look buddy, make up your mind and when you meet MY standards and provide me with a DECENT stream, THEN I’ll consider to get connected”. Nagi is trying to compensate for the fact that he isn ’t Omi and it’s trying to prove to me that he’s worthy. The dear baby.

Some of it is my fault, I must say.

„Damned Nagi... Omi usually shows me more of the Excel sheets...”

„Oh Nagi... I can see more of my e-mails with Omi...”

I don’t mean to...

Sometime later...

So they have these store where they sell this huge waxy things that look like food and that are cut and measured to the demand of the client. But what are they? Take a look at the picture.

It's soap.