Sleeping Around

Inspired by the writings of my wicked smart funny friends Jesse Seret (Perfect Calm), Trish Deitch (Distant Dock), Jessica Schickel (Chagrin and Bear It), Jen Sincero (Hey Little Bad Ass), and Janine Schulz (Oiling of a Rusty Mind), and encouraged by people I’ve met here and there, I will now commence the blog. Maybe just about beds. Maybe about other things too. But the beds are a constant. I’ve been keeping record of every mattress, hammock, waterbed, and couch I’ve spent the night on for some time, as many of you know.

Not every bed makes it into the bed collection. Sometimes I forget to take a picture. Once my computer was stolen on a night train in deepest India and I lost an important year of photos. Sometimes the beds in which I’ve slept would cause too much of a stir if made public, so. But there are lots beds in the bed collection. And stories behind each one.

If beds bore you then there is still some hope for us having a blogger/reader relationship. Let’s see how it goes. I’m only about 80% comfortable with this set up and welcome your input.

Love and kusheln from my red velvet bed in Berlin,

Noa
June, 2010
~ Friday, January 20 ~
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Centennial Hotel, Phuntsholing (January 20, 2012) — My bus ticket went missing so I was lucky to get the last remaining seat at the back of the bus next to gum popping teenagers. Bhutanese like their fresh air so the windows were kept down and my feet froze into ice blocks despite my wooly boots. We swerved along the precipices 7 hours down the Himalayas to the border town of Phuntsholing. Somewhere along the way the wheel popped off my beloved Swiss Army suitcase. Then Central hotel said I didn’t have a reservation. By the time I checked into the alternate Centennial Hotel I needed a drink and was happy to have a Druk 1100 delivered to my room. I sipped it down and relaxed thinking maybe this rough beginning meant smooth sailing as I continued to Sri Lanka. Little did I know the worst was yet to come. At least they let me have the 900 nu local rate and the bed was comfortable. In the morning I was stamped out of the country and took a tuk tuk into India.

Centennial Hotel, Phuntsholing (January 20, 2012) — My bus ticket went missing so I was lucky to get the last remaining seat at the back of the bus next to gum popping teenagers. Bhutanese like their fresh air so the windows were kept down and my feet froze into ice blocks despite my wooly boots. We swerved along the precipices 7 hours down the Himalayas to the border town of Phuntsholing. Somewhere along the way the wheel popped off my beloved Swiss Army suitcase. Then Central hotel said I didn’t have a reservation. By the time I checked into the alternate Centennial Hotel I needed a drink and was happy to have a Druk 1100 delivered to my room. I sipped it down and relaxed thinking maybe this rough beginning meant smooth sailing as I continued to Sri Lanka. Little did I know the worst was yet to come. At least they let me have the 900 nu local rate and the bed was comfortable. In the morning I was stamped out of the country and took a tuk tuk into India.