The night was cool, almost chilly. Such an intense contrast to the hot, burning days. We were sitting at the balcony. Me, robin, mom and dad, Vera and Charles. If we would have been all quiet we would probably hear the kebab man's voice: "kebab, kebab, kebab, kebab, kebab" it was like a one word prayer. So damn annoying! But this night was not a quiet night.
    A bottle of Sangria was standing at the white plastic table. There were also some cans of Jeltsin Vodka, if I remember right, which dad and Charles had bought at the plane. What a joke I thought. They guy is an alcoholic and they're making vodka in his name. Only in Russia, chummer!
    The conversation some way led in about some neighbors just opposite the hotel. Their flat was in about the same height as our rooms, so you could actually look straight into their apartment. Yes, I know. It is not good manners to be looking into other people's apartments, but that is not really what we were doing. I think it was Charles who first mentioned that the neighbor at the house across was always cleaning the floor or ironing some cloths, while the husband was strolling around the apartment half naked. Of course we all at once turned around. And laughter broke out when we understood that we all had already concluded the exact same thing. Nobody had missed those neighbours at the opposit house. It was actually a mystery how that woman could work so much. When we woke up at morning to go down to the beach, she was sweeping the floors. And now at around midnight she was ironing clothes.
    "Maybe we can bring our clothes to her, so she can iron them for us," one of us suggested, since there obviously was no iron at the hotel. There was more laughter. More drinking.
    I drank too much sangria.

The city was coming to life. It must have been somewhere around one o'clock. We were crowding with all the others on the flooded street. People everywhere, music, talking, smiles and laughter, pubs and pubs, drinking and dancing. Young folks, old folks, parents with their sleeping children in prams, everywhere somebody was selling something. Jewelry, gold on a three meter chain, just pick your length and cut, candy, T-shirts, belts, ties, CDs, postcards… longlegged men were giving out Kadoc fliers.
    The city came to life at a late hour. But when it did… it really did.

There was this small pub. It was small, really small… or did it just look larger than my expectations from the outside? It was always overcrowded, people almost hanging out from the wholes, which must have been supposed to be the windows. They had great music. I came to fancy this place. When I come to think about it I never drank one single drink there. But the music was great. It was mostly this house/techno style and always stuffed with people dancing. I still don't know the name of that place.

As robin and I head on home we hear our names being called just outside the hotel. We look around and over there, just across the street, there they are. Mom, dad, Vera and Charles. They are sitting at an outside pub, mom and Vera with some pink drinks and dad and Charles drinking beer.
    "Hi, we thought you were home already. What are you drinking?"
    "Lima… wanna try."
    "Umm, it's good. What's in it?"
    "Strawberry… you like it? Let's order you one."