The Bodacious Babes of Latvia
'Becca Blond in Latvia' is the name of a blog by a Lonely Planet guidebook editor who is traveling in Latvia. Below is an excerpt from her trip journal from the first days of their trip.
"I give up on sleep, decide instead to pick out an outfit to wear for the day. I was so good about my packing, I left all my cute shoes behind, opting to only take my flip flops and hiking sandals. Totally backpacker shabby chic, and totally wrong for this glamorous to the max city.
If there was one place where my spiky heels would have looked fabulous, it's in Riga. Why didn't I give into my craving and bring them along? Why did I have to be sensible for once? At least with heels I would have had a chance of looking less than invisible in a town filled with more beautiful women in one mile than in the entire United States. The women here are enough to make me want to run away and hide. I feel short. I feel fat. I feel overwhelmed.
Aaron can't stop staring. Every woman seems to be at least 6 feet tall, with legs longer than me, toned thighs, perfectly flat stomachs. It's like being trapped inside a Vogue cover shoot. Aaron says none of the women compare to me, but he also can't stop looking. Not that I can blame him, if the men were as hot as the women I'd be staring too. If I were a talent scout, I'd head to Latvia to discover the next movie star. Aaron says he should start organizing tours for single men, not that most men would have a chance next to these beauties. Not only are they tall, but they also have no problem flaunting their perfect bodies by wearing the tiniest of skirts and the highest, most gorgeous pairs of shoes. It's all rather discouraging. I try to remind myself at least I'm not here alone.
"I give up on sleep, decide instead to pick out an outfit to wear for the day. I was so good about my packing, I left all my cute shoes behind, opting to only take my flip flops and hiking sandals. Totally backpacker shabby chic, and totally wrong for this glamorous to the max city.
If there was one place where my spiky heels would have looked fabulous, it's in Riga. Why didn't I give into my craving and bring them along? Why did I have to be sensible for once? At least with heels I would have had a chance of looking less than invisible in a town filled with more beautiful women in one mile than in the entire United States. The women here are enough to make me want to run away and hide. I feel short. I feel fat. I feel overwhelmed.
Aaron can't stop staring. Every woman seems to be at least 6 feet tall, with legs longer than me, toned thighs, perfectly flat stomachs. It's like being trapped inside a Vogue cover shoot. Aaron says none of the women compare to me, but he also can't stop looking. Not that I can blame him, if the men were as hot as the women I'd be staring too. If I were a talent scout, I'd head to Latvia to discover the next movie star. Aaron says he should start organizing tours for single men, not that most men would have a chance next to these beauties. Not only are they tall, but they also have no problem flaunting their perfect bodies by wearing the tiniest of skirts and the highest, most gorgeous pairs of shoes. It's all rather discouraging. I try to remind myself at least I'm not here alone.
posted by Max Hartshorne at 8:01 AM
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