-These Croatian women, man, they’re like princesses. The Macedonian proclaimed loudly, with a strong sense of alpha-status.
-Yeah I know, I nodded with a dreamy look. They’re pretty awesome.
-They think they’re like special or something. You can’t even fuck them on the first date!
I realized we weren’t talking about the same thing. My smile faded into a half concern, half saddened gaze. I listened to this man’s rant. About the wrongfulness of the women around these parts. About how they want to be treated like people and taken on dates and stuff.
Imagine that. To be treated like a person. How rude and delusional they must be to demand such high maintenance luxury.
To be fair, I sympathize with this guy. It’s easy to fall into this tunnel-vision trap and only see the problem completely one-sidedly. The issue arises from creeps approaching women, because sane people don’t bother, because of embarrassment, peer pressure, judging and validation. Then women put up huge bitch-shields to keep idiots away. Which leads to two things:
1. Only macho bullshit gets through. Only the huge body builder gorillamen with the charm of a barn door get women, because they don’t take no for an answer.
2. People think sex is a reward for giving gifts. Which leads to people objectifying women and attempting to give time, money, and power for sex.
Which both lead to the perception of beautiful women acting as princesses.
Curiously enough, if you treat women as individual persons, they’ll treat you as an individual person. And all of this social conditioning disappears immediately.
I didn’t tell the man about this. He had enough to rant about.
Admit it, you’ve dreamed of flying around the world looking for adventures. Passive income, without a care in the world. Sitting in the sunshine, working on your macbook? Well, here’s Jay exploring Europe like a brave soul, right? Glamorous and adventurous, meeting new people, exploring new places. Let me tell you, it’s not always like that. See, the thing about going outside your comfort zone to look for success is that it’s damn uncomfortable. Even scary at times. I’ve been in Zagreb for two weeks and while there’s been women, Tinder-experiments, and business building, I’m feeling weary. Homesickness, maybe? Home to where? I have no idea.. But weary.
Marathon runners speak of hitting the wall. I feel like that – I’m out of battery power and can’t find a place to recharge. Which lead to being bed-ridden ill for three days. Next to the allergy, travelling and the insect bites.. it was the loneliest I’ve felt in months. I had no place to stay, no real income to speak of, and an illness that was practically impairing my mobility. In a city totally alien to me, with people speaking a language I knew nothing about. For a moment there, I felt kinda scared. I mean sure, my lovely little brunette-friend was there to watch Seinfeld with me, but she had no idea. It wasn’t her worry.
So now I’m living in a VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER!
Nah, actually I pulled through. I’m still feeling the effects of the flu or whatever crap disease it was, but I found a little apartment with a local roommate, which shall serve as my base of operations for the immediate future. Some of you guys may think your experiences with roommates have been iffy, but I promise you, I’ve had worse. I’ve had the misfortune of ending up with some of the worst roommates in known history. Thankfully my fears were unfounded, as this 23-year old architect student seems to be cool and harmless. We get along fine.
This girl by the way, and I know she reads this, has the happiest pair of eyes. She’s pretty important to me.
Follows a boring status update for my own records. Skip at your own accord.
Guestblogging is finally reaching that stage where I can start pitching my ideas to bigger blogs and make guest posts that’ll drive traffic to my own site. I’m planning to guest post like a machine in the next few months. It’ll put Rat Race Maverick on the map! Related to that is copywriting, that thing where you persuade people to have a look at your product, which is gonna be my immediate cashflow. Copywriting is all about making a product presentable to a particular audience. To try out this mindset, I made myself presentable through a Tinder-experiment. And while it was kinda cool to immerse myself in quick self-promotion, it also made the program seem even more fake and tasteless.
..and while that’s all very exciting, I keep returning to procrastination. It’s like I can’t handle all this change, and my body is telling me to just shove it and just rather stare at Youtube. Like I don’t deserve to succeed. It’s a fucked up little feeling at the back of my head that’s trying to keep me from making it. Like my inner Finnish boy telling me to just give up and stop pretending, because after all, I’m a just a big loser. Damn hard to keep that voice at bay. It makes me lose concentration and motivation. There’s a thing called impostor syndrome. I’m feeling it heavily.
“You’re 30. Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” She asked quietly, slightly accusingly, with a worried tone. She was probably just trying to understand my take on life and what exactly was wrong with me for not having a stable relationship.
This was not the kind of pillow talk I was hoping for.
I told her the truth: I don’t believe in girlfriends in the classic sense, as it doesn’t feel natural to me. I explained my stance on polyamory and that monogamous relationships in my world are akin to chaining people from their freedom. She laughed nervously, seemingly frustrated that I so blatantly wouldn’t look for validation from her.
I got the sense that she didn’t feel comfortable in her own skin. I felt mistrust, negative energy, and a hungry ego that needed validation. The sort of company I could do without.
Miami International, central wifi area, Terminal J. Some black dude was blasting some horrible burger-pop from his iphone on loud volume, so I moved outside. Besides, I wanted to take in as much Miami air as I could before returning to the home continent. There was a small clearing next to the terminal, seemed like a designated smoking area. I had time to kill so I sat down and took my laptop out.
Scanning the perimeter, as any seasoned security guard would, I noticed some poor soul sleeping on the bench and another feeding birds. No immediate threat though, and with other passengers having a smoke, I took out my laptop and started my daily writing. I tried getting a signal on the wifi, but it was one of those 600 dollars / 30 minute-deals and I wasn’t feeling it. So I just did some freewriting.
I hadn’t gotten two paragraphs down when the woman feeding the birds took notice of me. I saw her strolling towards my immediate position and got ready for my weirdo-defense. Like for fuck’s sake not now I just wanna sit in peace for a second.
My defensive bitch face soon melted into compassion. It’s funny how some people have honestly run into some bad luck.
This lady had fallen, broken her rib and missed her flight earlier that week, and couldn’t get back to the Netherlands because of that. She had run out of cash at the hospital and couldn’t reach her friends at home. She wanted to use my laptop for e-mail. I tried to listen for signs of deception to see if I was getting cheated here, but she showed me the bandages and sounded honestly distressed and tired. I realized this woman had honestly just run into some shitty luck. I had no wifi, so I couldn’t help with that, but I offered to pay for her call if she could do it at the info desk or something. Then something sparked a light behind this tired old lady’s eyes. She realized she could call collect to her friend who could wire her money. She wouldn’t take my money and promised me she’d be okay.
She reminded me of that lady in Mary Poppins feeding the birds. Feed the birds, tuppence a bag..
Some of you have been wondering what happened to the lovely girl from Graz. Well, she told me she didn’t feel it. Wasn’t REALLY a surprise, but what a bummer, man. Not because of the sex, nah. I didn’t think we had too much chemistry either, and she wasn’t too much in touch with her sexuality. But it’d be a damn shame not to see her again. She was weird. I like weird people. And wickedly intelligent as well. It’s up to her though. There’s absolutely nothing more I can do about that. Besides, I came to Zagreb to meet incredible women on the streets.
Let’s get back to Josipa Jelacica Trg, present day. I see this guy chatting up some girls. Awesome. Wish I’d be in that mood. Chatting up girls on the marketplace, oh making them laugh. Yeah that’d be so cool.. oh they’re pushing him off? No wait, that’s not a chat up attempt. I wonder .. oh shit now he’s coming over. He looks so cool be chill.
Then this guy comes over and opens his mouth. “Do you love animals?” he blurted out too quickly in a hilariously high pitched voice completely unsuited for the image he was portraying. Struck by the apparent fakeness of the display, I felt the need to be a snarky asshole.
“Only on weekdays” I answered, almost patting myself on the back for my cleverness.
“Wot” he said bluntly with a blank face, completely missing my attempt at humour.
Something about this dude was unbelievably annoying. “It was a joke.”
“Oh, I do not speak English that well”
Well, of course you don’t, you clodplate.
This guy was seriously boring me. “So what do you want?” He wanted 2€ for homeless cats. I don’t give money to beggars, and this guy didn’t really seem much different, so the cats remain homeless.
Applying Liam McRae’s advice about speaking slowly and leaving pauses between answers, I met three women on the street. And they were all gorgeous.
And I left them all smiling.
“Hey uhmm.. You said you don’t do one night stands,” she whispered with her Austrian accent.
“Huh?” I turned to look at this beautiful woman-creature lying naked in my arms.
She cleared her throat and asked more seriously. “You said you do not do one night stands. But you just do them with people you feel connected to.”
She stared at me with round eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes..
This exact question was originally the one that made this particular woman stand out from the Tinder matches. It spoke to me of an interest in human beings rather than social conventions.
An interest in a person – imagine that!
This was a multifaceted and complicated subject for anyone, and it’s always awesome to be in the company of someone who understands that. But I couldn’t see her angle. Partly for the funky accent, but also because she was quite conserved in her emotional expression.
I couldn’t get a read on this woman. Most people I see through, or at least catch a glimpse of what’s going on. Not this girl. And now she was staring into my soul with those honestly inquisitive brown eyes, with this simple, yet incredibly deep question.
I blinked a couple of times and straightened my thoughts. “Oh. Sure. Thing is, if I feel a connection with someone, I want to see them again. So in that sense, why leave it at a one night stand?”
“Oh. That makes sense.” She replied and receded into her thoughts.
It made sense to me, at least. Did she agree? I couldn’t say. I read people pretty well, but this was one closed enigma to me.
Which made her all the more intriguing.
You know when finding motivation feels like trudging through a tar pit with shoes a couple sizes too big?
Well, life in the past few weeks has been a constant battle of trying to find motivation and stay motivated. Sure, focusing isn’t exactly my strong suit, and I admit to taking too much free time for myself. It’s Maribor. It’s becoming too small for me. Sure, I enjoy my local friend’s company, and bless him he’s been doing everything in his power to make it the best stay for me. But I’m getting fucking fed up with finding a different creepy crawlie on my apartment floor every gorram night. And spiders aside, my habitat has become a negativity vortex. And it’s eating me from the inside.
I need a big city’s energy around me. People’s personal problems in this small village are way too close for comfort. They are not my problems, and yet, they’re invading my space. They’re dragging me down. Add to that this other bloke from down South who brings constant conflict and negative energy even from 200km away. Our coaching sessions ended up with him completely rejecting the idea of change and turning it into resent towards me.
So that’s a result, I guess. My mistake for trying to help, perhaps. But also a bitter lesson that some people .. just do not want help. A humbling experience for sure. Also makes me queasy for even using the word “help” here. But I try.
It’s funny how negativity creeps up on you. First it’s all productive and positive. Then you feel a bit slow, perhaps a bit unmotivated. Then suddenly you’re neck deep in this nasty atmosphere.
Solution: GET OUT IMMEDIATELY.
I’m crossing the border to Croatia next week. Aiming to find a more constructive social circle, and escape this internet nerd-community. Speak with real people.
Not that I haven’t tried. I got frustrated with playing a rather futile cat-mouse game with the girl from Graz trying to find out if she’s interested in meeting again. Which led me through a rollercoaster of neediness, desire, and frustration. And after getting dangerously close to becoming a groveling loser, I shook my head, grabbed myself by the scruff of the neck and aimed towards new adventures.
See, there was this waitress girl. I spoke to her a couple months back when I arrived in the city, and we exchanged phone numbers. It was mostly to say hi to a waitress in that restaurant I planned on visiting more often, but there was something curious about her… Something.. eye-catching.
New plans came and went and we never ended up doing anything. Now I was throwing messages to every and anyone asking people out. And surprisingly, it was the waitress who was eager to see me. So I dropped by the restaurant for a coke and a smoke and we had a chat. And what a chat it was! She was interested in philosophy, psychology, cooking, and life in general, and I was enthralled!
She was broken, though. Had an addiction to abusive boyfriends – a massive red light to me, especially considering my attempt at removing myself from negative influences. But.. she seemed quite eager to take a load off and hell, I enjoyed the chat, so we had a drink that night.
Which may have lead us to having another drink. And meeting some awesome people.
Which may have lead us to having a couple of tequilas.
Which may have lead us to dancing quite intimately at some club.
If I tell you at this point that she went home by herself and I went home by myself, you’d probably be disappointed.
Don’t worry, I would’ve been disappointed as well, so I ran after her. She was adamant that nothing could happen because her recently ex-boyfriend was coming to pick up stuff in the morning.
As it happens, we did nothing .. too serious. Of course, semi-innocent fooling around the whole night meant that we were both horny as hell by morning. Basically using her last hung over strength of will, she kicked my ass out before her ex came by. But riddle me this – what happens when a horny to the point of bursting woman meets her ex-lover?
Yes, later I heard they got back together with her boyfriend.
It would be sad if it weren’t so gorram funny.
These musician fellows, though, wanted me to join them at this party a few days after. I’m always up for adventure, so sure I wanted to join!
On the way there, I heard the party is actually a concert. Refreshing! The venue turned out to be a studio. Housing an underground radio station, a shitton of awesome people, and a band practice room in the back. The featured artist turned out to be a solo reggae artist dude with a guitar and a soundbox.
Smoking stuff I shouldn’t have, drinking cheap wines in amounts I shouldn’t have, and cheesy rock stories I should’ve been a part of. Even got to jamming with the dudes with my sorely rusty drumming. Only dropped the sticks twice!
I’ve missed that.
Also made an ass of myself with this one girl due to being fucking wasted.
*rolleyes* I should stop drinking, I guess.
She begrudgingly gave me her phone number. Which just pisses me off, btw. It was obvious she didn’t want to. I mean, could someone just have the fucking balls to fucking reject me properly? Enough of this weak-ass bullshit already. As I guessed, the next day she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about answering. Oh well.
And yet, I find myself thinking of this Austrian girl. It might sound a bit like “she’s the one”-itis, but luckily I’m not that far gone. It’s just horribly difficult to stay cool.
It comes down to a scarcity mentality, a feeling of neediness and having to cling on to that one girl in the world. When you absolutely MUST have this one particular girl. It’s deceptive as well, because this sort of idea is being sold as romantic by the mainstream. And yet, it’s the one reason why you can’t be perfectly happy with that particular girl. You can never be truly honest and give positive energy to someone if you’re clinging on to them, because at some level you’re afraid of losing them. It’s absolutely not a positive place to be, and I wanted to get out of it. But it was like a maze of feelings in my brain with no way out. Something was just not clicking.
Eventually, through freewriting and spinning these ideas from many angles, it started making sense. A lightbulb brightened in my dusty cobwebbed little head. I hadn’t been honest about my intentions. I thought I had, I truly did! But what I wanted was this:
I want to see her again.
I’d been dancing around the subject because I was afraid of being vulnerable, putting pressure on her, or scaring her away. I was afraid, because I was supposed to be the aloof guy with no commitments anywhere. But at the end of the day, none of that matters. I’m gonna be that guy anyway, so I might as well accept it.
The maze in my head was no longer a maze, but a lovely little park. With sun shining. And birds singing. And a syrup tree pouring overly sentimental molten cheese all over my laptop oh for fuck’s sake
You know the feeling. You got a blog post or article to write. The ideas are in your head and you just can’t find an angle. Well, I’ve lost too many nights of sleep over this blog post. It’s time to get words on the page!
It’s been a crazy month. Ending up in Slovenia was a curious wildcard in the first place. Getting to know the locals has been an even bigger wildcard. We got the Ice-fella, with his rather skewed view of the world. Classically trained, he’s completely sure that everything is against him and nothing will ever change. Working for his father and heading for a dead end rat race-life. Armed with a self-destructive view on life. But. He says he’s moving to London. If he does, he’ll meet life head on. Life as it really is. And if he embraces that, it can be a highway to the stars.
Which could be awesome.
Then there’s Mr. White BMW, who is more of the pedantic perfectionist-engineer type. Restored an E30-BMW with the little money he has. Works his ass off to make others happy. The guy has such potential, such huge ideas. And he understands my gripes about polyamory, the suffocation under society’s rules. I think he should fuck off to greener pastures, out of this rotten country – break free of the confines bestowed upon him without his approval.
Such colourful stories. I never knew. No one told me there was adventure everywhere. Stay in Finland, it’s a winning lottery ticket to be born in Finland. Well, that may be. But if I’d cashed in on that “winning lottery ticket”, I’d be stuck in a dead end security job slowly deteriorating into an emotionless husk of a man.
-Budapest? Why the hell are you going to Budapest? You got a job there?
-Uhmm.. no. But I’m going to see the world.
-Just stay here, man. You got job security! Why risk that?
I occasionally play with the thought of driving up to Finland in a few years with some big engined Mercedes car and finding that same dude at the same service station having that same cup of coffee in his same secure job.
Yeah. Let me tell you why: I risk it for my life. Because I don’t want to survive. I WANT TO LIVE. Sure, right now I’m working for scraps in a Mariborian cellar apartment with spiders for company. But I’m free to do as I wish, and nothing is preventing me from taking off to the next country. Which I probably will, soon.
Because Croatia seems like a nice place.
See, no one told me, that I’d meet a lovely little Croatian girl with polyamorous ideals and the quirkiest sense of humour. No one told me that those people exist. See, for many years .. for over a decade, I was under the impression that it’s my fault for not meeting anyone interesting. “You’re just too picky.” “What’s wrong with you, why don’t you have a girlfriend?” I never saw the point in getting someone and then being completely chained off any sort of social contact. Because polyamory or anything like that was condemned by society, I ended up just not meeting anyone. Yeah I took the train down there and we spent a lovely little evening together.
And before you ask, no. I don’t chase girls to different countries. Normally. But this girl was worth it. Not like I’d travel hundreds of miles to just have sex.
But it helps.
Too many times recently I’ve heard people challenge polyamory with that condescending tone of “oh, but I want to get to know people and not just have flings with everyone.” And while I appreciate the patronizing attitude, it pisses me off. Because while I like to talk to girls with beautiful figures and bottoms and boobies, it’s not only about meeting someone for kicks. It’s about making friends. Getting to KNOW people. Finding out about their sense of humour, finding out what makes them tick. What their worries are, and what their dreams are. I’m not out here to fuck anything with a pair of tits (although right now I’m pretty close), I’m out here to meet people. And find friends. Find soulmates.
It pisses me off when people say that. Judge me all you want, I don’t give a shit. But the point is, when people confuse polyamory with some random pickup artist going out and predatoring women for one-night stands, it’s insulting. Not to me, but to the concept of friendship. As if friendship, love, warm feelings, connections would be devalued the more you have them!
Sorry guys, it’s completely the opposite: the more you love, the more you love.
Someone asked me if I believe in soulmates. Because I don’t. I think that’s bullshit. Just a marketing term created by, probably some religious nutter, to make people feel happier about wasting their lives with one person. Having said that though, I’m sure that there’s a huge amount of people out there who are compatible with you. An enormous amount of people with whom you’ll have stuff to talk about, laugh about, cry about and create a unique connection that no one else understands. Because only in the last few weeks I’ve found three. And I’m picky, remember? I can’t imagine what I’ll find in the future.
I never knew.
There was the Miami trip, which changed my world. I’ve been writing more than I ever thought possible. Freewriting, it’s called. And it’s opened my mind to completely new ways of thinking. Curiously, it’s also made my daygame approaches much easier. I have no issues approaching women I see as attractive. The approach anxiety, it’s there. Frankly I’m scared as hell, but my feet move before I get to think of an excuse! It’s a wonderful thing.
She was right there! All I needed to do was pull the car over. The air was thick with a sexual tension I’d never experienced before. We wouldn’t tell anyone. No one would know.
Only days before I’d met this person and noted a strangely alluring energy around her. At the time I simply disregarded it as random swooning over a hot older woman. But we had so much to talk about. So much common wavelength. So many common frustrations. And yet, I chickened out. I said nothing.
Sure, she was married and nothing needed to happen. But I said nothing. And that’s the gutless solution. At least tell her how you feel and avoid the frustration and what ifs afterwards!
These last few days though, it’s been a writer’s block of the ages. But not because I didn’t want to write. I had a ton of stories to tell. But it’s all turning into a jumble of private stories belonging to different people. And suddenly I find myself responsible of other people’s stories. Stories they’ve entrusted me to hold. What do I do in that situation? I’m completely overwhelmed by suddenly finding all of these awesome connections with people, and yet, I have no one to share it with. And I’m supposed to be the leader here. Show the way for fuck’s sake? How do I show the way if I’m completely clueless myself?
Those glances she slipped. When no one was looking. Did I imagine those? No, there it is again. Stay cool, man.
That smile though.. I’ve seen it many times before. On the faces of many women, who wished I’d done something when I failed to do shit.
Maybe this time I’ll act. No wait nope, stay cool, dude. Stay cool.
But I wasn’t wrong. It was the smile of someone seeing a glimpse of light. She saw the non-judgmental person in me. Someone completely outside her social circle, the rules in her life, her self-imposed prison. Someone she could confide in. We spoke later in private about things I won’t divulge here or anywhere else.
I hope she finds a way out.
Looking back at all the bullets I’ve dodged by staying out of committed relationships all those years gives me a strange feeling of relief. For not giving into society’s pressure of just “getting it over with”. And it’s definitely worth a pat on the back, for staying true to my own feelings in that sense. But it’s still been my own little secluded world far from the general public’s view on life.
Yet, here I was, witnessing an “ideal couple’s” life, a real life shakespeare in the park, where the underlying frustration would never show without closer examination. Plunging into the middle of that is quite a hefty dose of reality.
I was quite angry at the world that night.
This whole charade roots from having to appear proper in the surrounding community, to avoid being ostracized. Best part is, these two and most other people as well, have no idea why they feel trapped. After all, by society’s standards, everything should be totally fine, right? It’s funny how the human brain is completely sure about things to be true, while the human body feels sick because it’s actually bullshit. Now how’s that for a sick fucking society?
Reminds me of home, now that I think about it.
Yeah, we had a rag tag team of dudes. A restless motorcyclist, a pedantic BMW-driver, an older aged tv-journalist to be-person, and the angriest home video director ever. And myself, a delusional wannabe writer with spiders in his apartment.
I never knew.
I never knew how far I’ve come. At this stage I can pretty much go strike a conversation with a girl on the street if it’s someone who actually interests me. See, there’s two scales I personally go by. A scale of external beauty: most girls are quite pretty, some even gorgeous. But then there’s the more important scale. The scale of attractiveness. It’s perhaps every 30th girl or so that honestly turns my head. They’re the ones with that alluring energy eminating from them, like a glowing aura. Or blinking fog light. When I see these rather rare cases, I move. Especially in cities like Maribor, they don’t come along that often. Then it’s a point of hopping over and ..
-Hi! Don’t worry, I’m not crazy!
And telling them why I bounced over. And then I want to find out about them. Who they are and why they’re so awesome. That’s it. If I get to deliver my compliment, I’m happy.
It puts things into perspective then, hanging around in company with one person completely socially constipated and another with a constant need to show off. The amount of ego and lack of humility is just mind-boggling, when self-esteem is low. Every tiny problem becomes a huge issue, and taking responsibility for a mistake is replaced with defenses, excuses and accusations. So fucking draining. But I didn’t care, I needed a glass of wine.
So we headed up to Rijeka’s nightlife. Rijeka, this small town on Croatia’s coastline, is a beautiful little place, with some fine looking women as well! We sat down at a local boulevard to enjoy some refreshments and check out the local crowd. After a few glasses of wine, and after hearing too many comments about passing people, I couldn’t take it anymore. So I bounced off to say hi to this beautiful brunette. I thought I’d get a laugh out of it and maybe some conversation with some cute Croatian girl.
I expected the guys to follow suit and maybe go chat up some chicks at the bar. But instead of joining me for meeting people, my comrades understood my initiative as a challenge of egos. The first one, being socially constipated, stayed put and grumbled something about getting rejected anyway. The second one, rather than going up to meet people, took my hopping approach to a completely new level and used it to scare people. He was looking for reactions because he felt he was being an entertaining clown. “See, I can do this too!” I remember him saying. Maybe not the best starting point, I thought, but at least we’d be able to have some fun. And to be fair, we ended up sitting with a few girls outside a local bar.
Albeit three girls who absolutely were not looking for company, who I had no interest in, and who were sitting in a horrible spot logistics-wise. But at least they were girls, so that’s something. Now being girls, they immediately saw my non-interest and the relative over-interest of my fellow ape-men. Even so, they valued my transparency and even warmed up to me a bit. Which made the contrast even sharper towards these guys’s socially clueless reaction seeking ego-driven high school style approach.
Was I disappointed in my company? Nah. It was to be expected. Was I disappointed in myself? Perhaps. After Miami and after listening to all these stories about being trapped in the wrong lives, there was a growing thought in the back of my mind about spending too much time with the wrong kind of company. Which means my time in Maribor must come to an end. The atmosphere is too dulling. It’s time for new adventures.
Curiously though, my whole life I’ve been taught that every decent Finn should suffer a horrible winter with awful weather and life should be dull and grey, and everything above that requires millions and billions of moneys. Now it seems, that only with barely minimum Finnish wage, you could easily afford to live in a beach apartment in Rijeka.
I never knew..