Tourists

When the sun came out for the first time this year, I felt pretty happy. I love the fact that I can walk around in just a blouse while I dream about being on a deserted beach somewhere in the world … Yes, summer, that’s really my thing.
But together with those wonderful thoughts, there’s still one dark cloud on my mind.

Tourists. They are coming.

I was taking the train back to Hasselt the first day it was quite sunny. My train happens to come from the beautiful city called Ostend before I hop on it in Ghent. So you can imagine, it was really packed with people.
Normally a packed train with students happens a lot and it doesn’t really bother me, because we are all thinking in a ‘we’re all in this together’-way.
But a train with tourists, that’s hell.
Those creatures think they can do whatever they want, so in their opinion, they are allowed to push everybody out of their way when they try to enter the train, bruise someone’s eye and of course, be really sweaty.
Sweaty is okay. When you go to the fucking gym. When you are about to take a train and you’re really craving to push your body up against other peoples, you should really put on some deodorant or perfume, or even another T-shirt.

I really hate tourists, I do, especially the smelly ones.

But in two weeks I’m going on a small trip to Dublin and I’m afraid that I’ll be acting like a tourist as well. With my disposable camera, ugly shorts, comfy shoes and map of Dublin.
But honestly, I don’t care if I’m that annoying, because I won’t smell like a fucking dead pig.
I own that wonderful thing called deodorant.