The Irish and the Attic

There is a big football game on in Maribor tomorrow night. The hostel I was in was booked out for the 2nd/3rd and the owner (a native Liverpudlian who has managed to live here for 3 years without learning the language) asked me to move out for the two nights. She appeared with a towel-wrapped head yesterday when I handed back the key and was apologetic about keeping me waiting. She had just peroxided her hair. In the meantime the town is filling with football fans. I can't understand their lingo but their shirts are bright green. Even the Irish couldn't get greener shirts.

Oh, what's that? It is the Irish? Right, that would explain not understanding the lingo.

My new abode is a cute little attic room in the Uni Hotel on the town square. It is a real pleasure having a space (and bathroom) for myself instead of sharing with ten others and I have decide to stay here for the duration.

Attic number 3

Attics, I love them. This one is in Neckargemünd.

An attic in Weisel

This attic is in Ulla's house in the small town of Weisel, perched among the hills along the Rhine.

 

Some houses in the village date from 1770 and I would guess Ulla's house is at least 200 years old. It has crooked floors, narrow hand cut wooden stairs and a half timbered barn. It was a ruin when she bought it, but is now a real charmer. It is a pleasure to go up and down the handmade narrow staircase to the top floor attic bedrom.

 

View from the attic window.

Happiness is ...

... an attic bedroom in a good friend's house.