Round the world in 193 Days - The Kelly Lang Experience travel blog


Last night the train got me into Geneve around 10:22pm (right on time, gotta love the Swiss and their timepieces) and I had my mind set on a massive cleanup, body and soul (but mostly body, let’s be honest). I frenched it up to as a guy if, since we were in a major international train station/airport, there might be a douche available in which to shower. Of course there was not but when I went into the bathroom, I found a system that ended up being just as good. The faucet had bathtub size knobs and a head that released a high volume stream into a ¼ sized bathtub looking basin some distance below. For some reason, the oddly proportioned watering device had a metal rack situated a about 6 inches above the drain and after some study I concluded that the whole contraption must have been for washing clothes that you would subsequently have no way to dry – cause you were in a train station. Appearances aside, the glorified sink spelled possibility and after grabbing my bar of soap, shampoo bottle, and clean change of clothes I was ready to read the letters. Before the flood gates opened, I walked to the back area of the bathroom, dropped my pants and used the remaining 7 moist towlets I had to clean the lower half of my body to a point just shy of shower clean. I put on new boxers and shorts and then stepped up to retarded looking sink. Starting with my hair, I simultaneously “showered,” and flooded a large portion of the men’s bathroom. I used approximately 9 trees worth of paper towels to dry off and saw to it that before I left, both trash cans were overflowing with their soggy remains. For my efforts, I was rewarded with the feel and smell of having just taken a full on shower (at least from the waist up). Then I brushed my teeth.

At 12:01am I found a suitable enough place to sleep for the night and by using a large roll of thick tablecloth from a far off but adjacent restaurant, I covered the floor in with a rectangular blanket of white. For whatever reason, the train station was steadily pumping their 80’s/90’s hits station and I was forced to fall asleep to the sweet nothings of Wilson Phillips and Sting. Kind of weird but I had some strange feeling that if I could hold on for one more day, things would go my way. At 4:30am, some extremely over gadgetized security officers woke me from my slumber (probably since I looked like a straight up vagrant) and gave me 30 minutes to pack up. I muttered some obscenities and then, without even bothering to deflate my air pad, wandered the 100m across the street to the airport terminal and set up camp behind a column. I slept another 3 hours and then checked in for flight number 1 to London. I decided that since I was still looking at another 10 hours before I was nestled comfortably in the Prague apartment, I might as well sink my teeth into a book on tape to pass the time. My choice was a recommendation from my old man called The Story of Edgar Sawtelle and soon after starting it I drifted off into my imagination and felt like I was watching a movie. At some point during my semi-conscious book “reading” I pounded the remainder of my king sized bag of peanut M&M’s but strangely the thousands of calories did little to suppress my appetite. I deplaned made a mad dash for the food court where I crushed some Indian food with the thought, “This is probably an excellent idea considering my restroom options are quickly turning into a single closet sized airplane toilet.” My stomach let out a rumble of agreement and all I could do was look at the complete stranger next to me and say, “Here we go!”

Later that night, I gained Prague. Finally walking through the front door to the apartment prompted one of the greatest feelings of relief I had felt in weeks and I followed it up with a never ending shower during which I pushed my skin’s heat taking ability to the limit and scrubbed my body like I was trying to lose 5 pounds through nothing more than skin removal. Fully cleansed, I got out, dried off and strode into the living room. I was home. I was home and it felt good.



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