the ankle and the beach: the moldovan riviera

...

it's like some sort of magical oracle. sometimes it hurts, sometimes it doesn't i think it might be something with a cartilage, or just some major stressing. it doesn't hurt like a broken bone or anything, just like a strained muscle group. one thing i know is that wearing sandals without an ace bandage sucks.

so, i went to a beach on the beautiful, polluted nistru river. transnistria lies beyond, and i actually got a glimpse of the militarized border. it was basically a rusted tank covered in camo netting, a white guard house, and a few dudes with AK-47s sitting around with nothing to do.

but that was on the way home. on the way there, we took a cab, an old, shiny yellow volga. the thing stalled at every stop, the driver was this geriatric, and when making a turn at more than 30km an hour his hands and the car would shake violently. no seatbelts, no nothing. but it was well worth it, as after we left the sprawling outskirts of chisinau, we finally entered "real moldova" - the country.

green as far as the eye can see, babuskas selling fruit on the side of the road, vineyards and the occasional trashy mansion.

the beach on the nistru was interesting. it was like a stretch of plowed farmland, fine dirt powder beaches, and lots of speedos. i kind of just sat there and was bored, but it was interesting nonetheless. the ankle started acting up but it is now just a presence i deal with. thought i am now a defenseless gimp both on the dance floor and when assaulted.

but anyhow, today is devoted to carl schmitt and language study.