Despite being the ice queen that I am, I admit I’m starting to understand why people give me funny looks for traveling Eastern Europe in the dead of winter. It wasn’t even that cold — around 20F/-7C — but the wind was abso-fucking-lutely brutal. I mean, I lived and biked through the 2013/2014 winter in Milwaukee, in which the wind chill regularly hit like -45 (Celcius or Fahrenheit), and “is it colder today in Milwaukee or on Mars” was the daily morning game at work — but I had the clothes for it, more or less. Here I have like… one pair of jeans, a sweater and thin hoodie and my coat, cheap hat and scarf, and thin, mismatched gloves.
But the starkness of this region this time of year is definitely up my alley, the skeletal trees and weird grey-blue of the sky. And I’ve always loved the weird solidarity that seems to settle on people in the bitter, brutal cold. Plus it’s just pretty.
Also, kind of fun when I glanced up at this inscription on the cathedral wall and was like hey, that’s Glagolitic! I mean, I sure as shit can’t read it, though there was a brief time a many years ago when I could at least pronounce it, so thanks, aborted linguistics Master’s degree.