Kranj – Bohinj – Kranj

When the temperatures start to rise, when the June bugs get entangled in the beautifully combed hair of the girls, the holiday begins in my head. At work, I count down the days, use up the last atoms of energy, and I crave solitude, silence, and morning orgasms. 

Despite the right mindset, there was something strange in the air this year. Vaccinated, free from the fear that had accompanied me for a good year, I expected this year to be something special. Hedonism, pure hedonism - relaxation, orgasms, great food, concerts, good wine. Although it started as expected, my holiday spirit began to slowly disappear in early July. I didn't announce a vacation in the office; I had no idea where to go, what to do. Even at the thought of planning, I became a bit more tired than I already was. 

I dreamed of Spain, but corona turned my dreams into a nightmare again. Since delta caused a panic at work, and the co-worker had already booked all of August for her vacation, I had no choice but to blindly point to one date, turn off the computer, and disconnect. 

I was without a plan, without a will; even the desire for orgasms suddenly dried up. For the first four days, I just slept, ate, and drank. I couldn't look at the computer, let alone write an article or try out a new toy, even though they invited me to bed every night. I was already getting on my nerves. I even had the apartment to myself; I had the solitude and peace I desperately needed in the past months of living with my parents. However, my peach was not alive. Just as a black Citroen went to the seaside, so did my tingling, but to Nowhere land. 

Since my alone time ended too quickly due to my father's swollen face, I was forced to think about that real vacation—time for me. Nevertheless, I was hesitating, and it got even worse - I got my period. The days were slipping out of my hands. So finally, a little under pressure, one morning, I pressed the 'book now' button Booking, drank my last sip of coffee, and threw untested toys, some clothes, and a computer into my bag. The next day I got in the car and drove towards my vacation. Destination: Bohinj, hotel Bohinj.

When I saw it after an hour and a half of driving, I couldn't help but marvel. Everything on it called for pleasure, especially the room. The combination of wood and mirrors unlocked the lock between my legs and gave a free pass to my imagination. I pulled my computer out of my bag and started writing. I was amazed at what caused some peace and order in my head. I only had time for myself. 

As dusk began to fall and I took one last sip of wine and put out my cigarette, I grabbed one of the toys and headed for the shower. I was already somewhat tired and dirty and to have that gentle shower was better than anything else, especially with a vibrator between my legs. But I didn't stop there. It never occurred to me to turn on the television. When I landed in bed, I pulled out a new toy, which would have been gathering dust for a while if I had stayed home. I fell asleep in the embrace of an orgasm. 

Although I'm not used to it, I tackled the next day more slowly and calmly; I walked a lot while my brain created new stories and wrote new paragraphs. While soaking my feet in pleasantly cold water, I finally understood why Bohinj was so attractive to Agatha Christie. 

Dark clouds started to gather in the sky, so I, like most people, ran to the hotel. Only the Czechs on their SUP boards remained on the lake. I wrote on the hotel's terrace in the afternoon, drank wine, and enjoyed the silence. Another quick walk and dinner, and then I decided to call it a day. When I got to the room, it seemed different to me, and during a phone conversation with my mom, I also found out why. The toys that were in bed, just like I had left them the day before, were covered, and the bed was made. I had high hopes that I would not meet any maids the next day. So I indulged in bedtime pleasures again, even though I didn't believe I would be able to do it on this vacation. 

My visit to Bohinj was short but sweet. I could write about the hotel itself only superlatives, as well as about the place itself and the people. I was incredibly grateful to myself that, on the verge of despair that I would stay home, I decided and drove from Gorenjska to Gorenjska, where I got what I had missed the whole holiday: Loneliness, peace, and tingling between the legs.