Don’t travel with friends. That’s my big advice. As I live in a different country friends sometimes come to visit. And I have friends here that I know well. Mix the two and take three weeks together and its like trying to balance on the head of a pin.

The foreigners don’t like anything including food, transportation, accommodation, toilets, the fit of the clothes, weather, other people’s personal habits, doing anything without having their hand held, making even the simplest decisions.

Local people don’t like the dithering while foreign people “just can’t make up their minds”, the perceived insult to food, country, hygiene, language difficulties, western arrogance, high level dependency about everything.

Put those two together and have it acted out in a veritable passive aggressive festival since neither wants to get me upset, me being in the middle, and I walk around with my teeth gritted all day and have nightmares of being locked in my room while the two of them whine it out and pout in the corridor. Arrrrrggggghhhhhh!  

Only 3 more days, I tell myself. Then the foreigners go and I get back to something like normalcy around here. And as with all passive-aggressive stuff it will pass. In the meantime I have shut myself in the hotel room, left each to their own devices, separately, and with mobile phones in case of emergency, and I do my own whining and pouting here.

I’d better write about something constructive to get myself out of this fuck-em-all kind of feeling.