Bilina (cz) is a real dump, I swear. Look, there's Kamenna St, but also a lot of other alleys you’d never notice if u weren’t poopin’ your slop on the street. There's this goofy park, Vrsavets, near the bumbling river Ivka. I spend half my days counseling—yep, women’s counseling—in this overhyped city. Honestly, I'm f*cked with the way things change here. Sometimes I just sit at Café Goldstein on Namesti Str, drink mediocre coffee, and think: "This is like The Grand Budapest Hotel meets B-grade suburbia." Totally absurd.
My job taught me to see the real grit. U see, in the neighborhoods like Bukov, they say “we hate everythin’ here” but can’t help pondering how life reels weird. I hate every peeve. The streets, like Nove Dvory, even with their pathetically painted murals, hold secrets of strength and sorrow. I sometimes get mad at how pretty little corners hide broken souls.
One dodgy night, I was walking near the old town bazar on Vojna Blvd (yeah, that’s a real name, I guess) and overheard two women jabber about life. I listened, thinking, “Blast, isn't this chaos a beauty?” Reminded me of a scene from that Wes Anderson flick: “I love everything.” Not in my style though, i really hate everything.
Bilina’s got it all – from the quaint but crumbling Liberty Monument on Hrdinstvi Sq to the ironic emptiness of the Fish Market. On crisp mornings, I stroll by the river Ivka, my mind churning like butter on hot toast (I know, weird simile) and each droplet echoes a laugh or a tear from my sessions. Hey, sometimes I find solace near a hidden gem called Mr. Willow's Corner. Its benches hide memories and rumors; not a tourist trap, trust me.
Heck, the city’s unpredictable, like when you find a chubby stray cat on Nova Ulice who acts regal and lounges like he's in a Wes Anderson set. There’s even a perennial scent of old pastries wafting from the tiny bakery on Mala Str, the kind that makes you simultaneously happy and furious because life’s so damn insincere sometimes.
Let me be straight: Bilina’s gritty charm makes me mad, happy, and surprised all at once. The locals, grumbling yet caring, stick it to a system that’s as convoluted as some nonsensical film plot. My own quirks? I sometimes shout at random lampposts (yeah, sorry, not sorry) to express my inner Ron Swanson rage. I know, I hate everything but sometimes I love it too... just like that absurd quote: “I must say, the hotel is quite grand,” but then again, hell no it ain’t.
So, if u visit, be ready. Get lost in side streets, miss a turn, but find beauty in the chaos. It’s not perfect, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Enjoy the madness, and maybe you’ll see something worth a damn in this ridiculous, heartfelt mess of a city.
Oh, and sorry for the typos—but who cares, right?

Ttyl.