Around the World in 80 Girls: The Epic 3 Year Trip of a Backpacking Casanova Read Online Free PDF

before and explained to us that I didn’t have to pay a fine at all.  I had already kind of figured that.
    The next day the hostel girl, Julia, was in a way better mood, and told me she’d had a major hangover the day before. Me and the two guys from Chile couldn’t stop joking around with her about the night before, and kept pointing out things about the hostel and bellowing PROBLEMI! This pretty much covered the whole hostel.
    After our shameless adventure in bribing a public official, the Chileans and I visited numerous sites throughout the city.  On our second trip to Red Square we saw one of the hottest girls ever.  Soon they were using the time during our long walks to teach me a bit of Latin Spanish – but only the words to describe a woman. As a test of how well I was learning, with every smoking hot girl that walked by I had to give them a full description in Spanish.
    One day we had an unexpected city tour when an eighty-four year old guide just walked up to us in the street and started talking. He spoke excellent English and had lived through the Second World War and Stalin’s days. After he had showed us around the city we gave him a generous tip. He was doing tours because his retirement fund had almost completely disappeared in the 1998 Ruble crash. That old geezer was definitely in better shape than us: we’d walked many miles and were dead tired afterwards, while he was probably going to do the same again.  He was probably snickering at the wimpy young tourists that we were as he left us.  I couldn’t blame him.
    Meanwhile , back home, my family received a new bank card for me and sent it by FedEx to the hostel in Moscow. An ATM in Estonia had eaten my ING bank card and since then I’d been paying in cash only. The card arrived the day after my family sent it, but customs kept the card for a whole five days. Great fun, what with my funds running out.
    The Chilean guys had to move on, and I promised I’d visit them once and if I reached Chile. Meanwhile I stayed in the hostel and practiced my Russian with Julia. During the day most backpackers went sightseeing, so I was alone with her most of the time, which gave me enough time to game her. She taught me the Cyrillic alphabet by letting me read the newspaper out loud. We were sitting closer and closer together and started touching and flirting a bit.
    Later that day we went out together with a group from the hostel and visited a small club called Papa’s Place. That Monday was Happy Hour night, and at one point we were getting four drinks for the price of one. No need to say we all ended up shitfaced. I walked back to the hostel with Julia but stopped at a small park close to it. We started kissing and things got pretty steamy pretty quick. When I put my hand under her short dress I felt she was really wet and ready to go. She wanted me then and there but it was already daylight, so I asked where she lived. We took a one-hour ride on the metro to the suburbs. To me it looked like a Russian ghetto, with countless grey concrete buildings straight out of Soviet times. I made a fool of myself by asking her about it and she looked surprised and said that the really bad neighborhoods were further outside the city. Coming from a western country, I had never seen a neighborhood like this and had no interest in seeing the “really” bad neighborhoods.
    I had to pay a bribe to the guard to let me inside the building. Her apartment was small and old, but she had a bed and that was the most important thing. We both took a quick cold shower and jumped in bed to warm each other. She was the first lay on my trip. One down, many more to follow. Julia was smart, twenty-three years old, a working student and nice girl who had a beautiful slim body and a butter face. This means nice body, BUT HER FACE. Still, for four days we shagged like there was no tomorrow, but then my bank card finally arrived.  I only had a 25-day visa, so after one last romantic