Keeping my chaos tidy

On trying to be tidy

2007-04-04T16:49:00.001+02:00

One of the good things that moving fairly often has is that you are mostly aware of what you have. Say that you live in the same place for a couple of years or more. You buy clothes, home accessories, books and perhaps some furniture. All those things, added up to all the stuff you had from your previous home(s), start piling up more and more every month and suddenly you have a pile of papers over your desk. Yes, that pile of papers that you never go through and that you swore to yourself, to the Gods of anti-clutter and to your ever so organised partner, never allowing it grow again. Then, when you move, you surprise yourself with the amount of crap that you have kept. Sure, sometimes it is nice to have to have to stop yourself going through memory lane since you find all those things that remind you of those moments. Other times though, it is nerve-wreaking not being able to know where your stuff is.

Well, for a bit I haven't been in that place and I am happy. I have made a clothes spring cleaning every once in a while, I have bought a special folder for all my documents, I have a small bookshelf just for library books and I have found a special place to leave my Spanish mobile.
I know, it's pretty amazing. It's been blood, sweat and tears, but I am almost there... almost at the point in which I can rely on finding stuff when I leave home in the morning instead of looking for it for half and hour and be late for work. Almost at the point in which I am aware of what I have and where I have it. The next step will be trying not to forget things. Not to forget birthdays, sending emails and buying food. Not to forget sending letters, house keys and mobile phones on daily basis. Not to forget to check how warm it is outside before I decide to dress. Not to forget to eat when I am busy and realise what I have done just when I start getting in a really, really bad mood.

Not everything at home is in its place though. Despite having tried really hard to have everything as much organised as possible, despite all the good intentions and despite the fact that we've just lived in this flat for over six months, things have started to get lost. And I am not taking socks, no. I am talking passports. How can, in a semi organised tiny home, a passport disappear? How can something that has always been on sight, disappear from the face of the earth? How can two people look for one thing for hours in a row and not being able to find it? How can this happen in 40 sq metres?

No Swedish Easter for stakars Johan. I am going to bake him something to cheer him up.

2007-03-09T13:36:00.000+01:00

This morning I woke up late, I was exhausted after a long day of University topped up with late night TV watching. I woke up as a result of weird dreams, product of sleeping either too much or with too much light. Then, when I struggled to make a cup of a much needed coffee, I realised that i am on my own for the weekend. It is weird that this always gives me such a big boost. Don't misunderstand me, I love spending time with Johan and I hate having dinner on my own but occasionally, I enjoy the solitude and I look forward to it. Lovely solitude... So I put loud music and washed up 2 days worth of plates. I chose Maroon 5 CD "Songs about Jane", a choice that Johan would have most definitely complained about but that I enjoyed greatly. There I was, washing plates and remembering past times. Times when I wasn't fed by a great cook and so was much slimmer, times when I chain-smoked and tried to make up my mind about what I wanted. Job, parties, boys... The concept of dating, however repeated by people and TV programs, was totally foreign to me until then. I went out with a few guys, saw the pros and cons, laughed and gossiped with my friends. It was time when friends came to visit, when my wardrobe was at its best shape and when I tried to keep alive a semi relationship with somebody who I could not understand over the phone. It was so much fun! I do not miss the hungovers, but the excitement... I sure miss that. Just sometimes though.

I want to:

2007-02-20T12:51:00.000+01:00

Take a Photography class
Take a cookery class
Play tennis or any other sport that involves more than one person.
Go rock climbing
Learn to swim properly

I tought I'd make a note here so I won't forget... because it happens a lot!

2007-02-13T10:52:00.000+01:00

The best thing about working in a school is that once in a while, when nobody from the non-school environment expects it, you have a week holiday. Yes, half-term my friends, is a blessing. There´s a week when you can catch up with studies, with sleep or with reading. In this case, however, I have decided to come to Spain. And here I am, in my childhood home! It is nice not having to worry about making a dinner that can be stored in a lunch box to take for lunch the day after. It is nice to be with my family and hear the non-stop voices coming from the radio or the tv. I have discovered (not so much as a discovery really, but an information for blog readers) that Spain seems to be a place where there is no silence. Not with my family, at least. There´s the massive tv and all those digital channels, which´s films I watch one after the other although I get oh my so angry because of the dubbing. When are we going to start reading subtitles? That´s a much better option! I am not trying to undermine the work of dubbing actors, but maybe somebody should make rules? Accents, way of speaking and the use of non-standard language are a common feature in many foreign (non-Spanish, I mean) films. So it is in books, and although this use of language brings a lot of colour to a story, in Spain we do not seem to be able to translate it. Standard voices and correct and flawless Spanish accents permeate films, series and translated books. It enfuriates me, but I would be kind of ok with it if this was applied to every aspect of translation. Being a translator is a very, extremelly difficult and unrecognised job. Prestige and salary do not match the effort, that is for sure. That´s why, I guess, there are constant horrible translations around. Spaniards who read this blog: do you not get angry when somebody in a film says, fo example, "Yo no no hice"?. What the hell is that? "I didn´t do it"? Nobody would say that!! Maybe "No he sido yo" might be a better choice, one that does not make you brain blow up if you have a bit of English knowledge? I am sure that the same applies to other laguages and that is why I say NO to dubbing in films and tv series!! And if they keep doing it, regardless my appeal (insensitive bastards!), could they not give enough time to translators to deliver a satisfactory make-sense kind of work? Books have better translations.

In the UK, foreign films are also subtitled and I would adventure to say that it is the same in the other English-speaking countries. Sure, they might not release much foreign (or non English-speaking) stuff, but at least what they do is "faithful" to the original. In other countries like France and Germany, the Spanish case repeats itself. Dubbing, dubbing, dubbing. Is this really necessary? On the contrary, in Sweden, every film and series is in its original language, subtitled. I am sure that this is one of the reasons why 99% of Swedish population has an incredible facility to communicate in English, but that is another matter.

Right, I have gone on and on and on about it and I am sure that this is not such a simple issue and that I have not been too impartial but hey, this is my blog! Feel free to disagree (and to let me know about it too!)

In the meantime, loads of love from Spain, where the sun shines and the TV is never switched off.

2007-01-31T09:40:00.000+01:00

My life is very very boring. I have finally finished my last set of essays and now... I see the end! A couple of corrections and off I go to write my dissertation! It is going to be a hard long job but hey, at least now I can focus on something specific instead of meet deadlines every week and then write those damn essays. I am going to write about (children and teenage) novels based on the Spanish Civil War. So, if any of you guys from any of continent find any, please please please will you let me know??

With this "seeing the end" to my MA I am thinking more and more about the future. I am not sure that I will get the kind of job that I want in my present job (sadly, I like it there) so I might have to move somewher else. Looking for a job is a pain: interviews, hours and hours on the internet and preparins CVs and cover letters... Bufff, not looking forward to that! I guess that we might stay in London a couple of years more and then it is very likely that next destination will be Sweden again. Johan wants to study, and why pay a lot of money here, struggle with the costs of living (like me!) when you can study for free and not worry but for your studies? The good side is that I can start applying for jobs from here and move only when I get a job, and I will likely know about this months in advance, so the moving needent be so tough. So where will it be? Stockolm, Goteborg, Malmo again? It depens on where I find work, since Johan is flexible for that. Then we would need to buy a flat since renting over there is almost impossible. That is a scary thought since the biggest thing that I have bought so far is an Ikea Klippan sofa, and that already felt like a huuuuge step towards adult life. Well, that is a couple of years along the line.

Anyway, I am full of exciting plans, but not much exciting stuff really happenning. I am trying to loose weight and not starve, so maybe I should write a post about my very very funny gym!

2007-01-10T14:48:00.000+01:00

Less than two weeks to the deadline for semester's essays is NOT a good time to catch a heavy cold. Are the Gods listening??

2006-12-18T09:28:00.000+01:00

On Friday my school broke up for the Christmas holidays. What a better way to celebrate than go out to dinner and binge drink with a couple of friends. After way to many bottles of cheap red wine, we felt too wintery and Christmasy and drunk that I ended up crying in the middle of Carnaby Street. There's no better place, is there? With the average of 1000 tourists per square metre and many Londoners on their office Christmas party and all the school teens on their first holiday day... I am pretty much sure that nobody that I know saw me in that deplorable state...
Talking about work Christmas parties: why is it that we always get so extremely drunk in those that we wish we had never gone? Or that we had the common sense of knowing when to leave? Of course I do not have any of those and cheap Australian wine and not enough food make of Ana a person that Johan has to drag home. Thanks God he did drag me home! On the way though, I decide to be really angry at him because he was walking quicker than I. And decided to blame him for me very smart idea of wearing the higher hills that I have. It seems that I twisted my ankle because then it was sore for a week. Although I was sore for a couple of days too... However, maybe I twisted it when I fell on the gym a couple of days after. I fell on the stairs because I was very wet going from the shower to the steam room and my flip flop broke. And I ended up naked in the middle of a staircase, showing every bit of my pride and my not very waxed legs to this woman coming up from the pool. I took home a very long bruise that has reminded me of the incident for a week. I am glad that I chose a "ladies only" gym though.
Sometimes think That I should ALWAYS stay at home...

2006-12-08T11:23:00.000+01:00

It turns out that my mum is sick... She had an operation last week that went very so I quickly flew to Spain to be with her. The operation went very well but unfortunately, the process has only started... I have offered to give her my hair if she fancieshaving a long hairdo instead of the boy's one that she may have in the next few months. I do not know what else to do.
Priorities are such a weird thing. The list turns upside down in a matter of seconds.

Paying off?

2006-11-17T16:12:00.000+01:00

All the stress of not finishing the mandatory reading every week, all the nervousness and anxiety for feeling that I do not know as much as I should. All the articles read and resumed. All the exercises I made up in my mind to formulate ideas. All that new vocabulary learnt to link one point to another. All that and all those tears caused by stress kind of paid off yesterday when I met one of my two teachers before the seminar yesterday. They paid off because she told me "I've been meaning to tell you this for a few weeks: I really enjoy your interventions in class. They are very well thought through, developed and put out there. I specially like that you are not afraid to challenge what is being said in the class and that you explain your points clearly and thoughfully."
Sure her English is more elaborated than mine but you get the idea, uh?
This is good, good. Because the discussion is what I enjoy the most. I hope that she thinks the same about my essays, though!

Other than that I am tired as hell, I am developing some kind of reaction to my always-on contacts, and I am managing better and better with the kids in school. Ah! and my parents are here for the weekend... Fun!

I don't know

2006-11-07T23:31:00.000+01:00

It is funny how many times I think that my life is settled, that I am the one that decides. That if I decide to leave, say, and go to China or somewhere really far, as I have been thinking lately, there is nothing to stop me. It is funny to think of all the possibilities that I have, that I may or may not take advantage of.
I think that it is funny because when everything seems to be going almost right, that I have my friends, my work is good and seems that it will be much better in a years time, that my relationship is great and that I am getting there with my studies, something happens and I have to rethink it all.
Suddenly I realise that as centered as I have been lately with my books, I failed to realise that my relationship was failing, that there was a extreme lack of communication. There is nothing to worry about, since I have realised, but what if I had not?
The same with work. A couple of estatements made in the past promised something that now might to become true. Have I read it well from the beginning?

Sure, ultimately, the decisions are mine but... things change so much and sometimes I need time to catch up with them. and I can not find that time. Anywhere.

And it is difficult to write something coherent when I do not find time to think.

Should I go with the flow? Should I choose what I really want to do? And do it throughly? Or pick all the things I want to do without exception? And do them half way through?

No me gusta quedarme a medias tintas, pero tampoco quiero renunciar a nada. No se.

...

2006-10-30T19:22:00.000+01:00

Min cykel

2006-10-23T17:48:00.000+02:00

When I was a child I was never too fond of bicycling. I was afraid to go too quick just in case I had to break abruptly, because I was sure I would fall and hurt my knees. I ended up breaking and jumping from my bike at the same time. Don't tell me that that is probably the way in which I would most surely fall, I know it now. But when I was a child, jumping felt much more safe, maybe because I was doing it consciously and not being forced to land on my knees. And I might have been right, because I do not remember ever falling from my bike. And man, I do remember falling. As a child, I fell all the time. As an adult, I do not fall all the time. Just when I have been drinking in excess and decide that playing my tiny harmonica at the same time that I walk it's the right thing to do. And when I decide that, it is very, very probable that I land on my knees. Based on Saturday night events and I was very, very close to make a link to a picture of my broke stocking and my wounded knee that I took in my drunken state. Thank me, people.

Anyway, what I wanted to write about is my bike. When I arrived to Sweden, I bought and mended a cute black bike. I only had it for like a week, but I grew so attached to it that when it got stolen, I almost cry. Instead of weeping though, Johan and I contacted two very dodgy guys through an ad on the internet. They sold me a bike for 1000 kroner, which I thought very reasonable. Sure I thought it was reasonable because I had lost my old dear bike, but then I realised that it was probably stolen from another innocen girl who did not have a lock tough enough. And I felt bad for that girl, but I ensured I got the toughest lock I could find. And a second lock. I got to love this bike much more than the old one within minutes.

The biking was my favourite part of being in Malmo. It allowed me to have so much freedom... never have to wait for a bus... great! No tube... even greater! It was almos annoying when people came to visit and they did not have a bike. Do we really have to walk now? I felt so good riding the bike that I decided to bring it back to London with me. I had to pull it apart, stick it in a box way too small and fly it over. After all this effort to have my bike with me, I never used it. I never used it because the gears where broken and because I never got around to fix it. The problem here is that bike shops require appointments, you can not leave the bike there and come bak when it is fixed. Which is not so good.
But now, since this was one of the things I really, really wanted to do, I brought it to the bike shop and... it is fixed!
When the girl called me to ask me to pick it up, I was so happy that I almost ran. And I cycled back home (2 minutes instead of 10 walking) and I realised that I have missed the cycling a lot. A big lot!
I am not going to cycle to work every day as Johan does. I am too scared for that. They drive on the wrong side of the road, this people. And the traffic is crazy And I am too absent minded.
I need some training first...

I have been tidying a few things...

2006-10-20T15:16:00.000+02:00

Okay, so it turns out that I am not such a serious blogger. It turns out that I created this blog, back in Sweden because I was feeling lonely and because I did not have anything better to do. Now, however, I do not feel lonely anymore and I have shit loads to do. So that is why I am not developing my writing as much as I should. With three days a week working in a busy school library, two dedicated to study my MA and a good few hours to transport, I really did not feel like writing in this blog. Actually, that is a lie: I did feel like writing but I did not allow myself to express that feeling, just because I was so busy.
In all this time I have done a few things:
I moved to a lovely flat with lovely Johan. Although there are a lot of things missing (anybody can spare a sofa bed?), this flat really feels like home. We have sunshine coming through the windows (yeah, sometimes we have sunshine in England), a massive garden, cute built in wardrobes and a staircase. No problem with neighbours since they are either nice and quiet or our friends (this is not exclusive, but you know). So after a lot of housing adventures, Johan and I can finally use the internet to look for information regarding interesting topics and not to Gumtree ads. The moving includes not only the cleaning and moving date, but also the days spent in Ikea and waiting for the Ikea delivery (while we were still sleeping in an inflatable mattress). The number of phonecalls made and emails sent to gas, electricity, broadband and telephone companies.
Then I have also started the next semester of my course, which is demanding a lot of reading time. Time that I don't have. I have recieved the results of my Summer essays... I have to repeat one.
I have recievd a few visits from friends.
I have also discovered that I might be dyslexic. Yes, folks, it seems that I am not so absent minded, but that I might have a slight problem. I have been tested once and will be tested for the second time in Uni on Monday. If it turns out that I am a wee bit dyslexic... boy I would understand so many things! Like Why I find so difficult to give sense to what I think sometimes or why, as soon as I start writing something in a different way of how I speak, I get frustated. We'll see, anyway. Maybe the people at uni will be able to give me some tips to make this better. (Thanks Amy for the diagnosis and the rainy afternoon fika!)

I have also been really sick with flu. Which is not so bad thinking that I got to spend four days in bed and watch the whole 1st season of Desperate Housewives. Now I know what people talk about. Knowledge comes when you least expect it.

Anyway, now that this chaos starts to be a bit more tidy, I have a few plans: mend my bike (which has broken gears since I came back from Sweden) and start an every Friday blogging session.
ana

PS: I have also joined the gym!
PS2: and I have actually been there!
PS3: Working out!
PS4: three times!

Elves, police and Victorian houses...

2006-08-31T19:19:00.000+02:00

I can not believe I have not blogged anything in about a month! The coming back to London after the holidays have been quite painful and a bit distressing.
To start with, my essays: I handed everything in!! That left me mentally exhausted and with a very poor vision of myself as a MA student. It was tougher than I thought so I am quite glad I will not know the results until October... and let the relief of not missing the deadline sink in and relax! Now I have already started with the reading for next semester, but that is not bad at all, since it is just reading and I enjoy it very much.

When we came back from Spain (Johan joined me for a few days) we started flat searching once more. Johan absolutely hates the flat where we live, and with reason. It is not only the chicken bones and the noisy neighbours, but the lack of light, the damp and the smell that it gives to our clothes. It is quite bad indeed and I do not like it either. So we started calling, answering ads, putting our flat out for rent... a total craziness! We were worried since we did not know what to say to the people viewing about the situation with our crazy neighbours. These kids are violent, scary chicken-eaters! The other day I even had to phone the police because one of them was kicking a pigeon to death against my door. Of course I did not know that he was just brutally murdering an innocent animal (because even if you hate pigeons -as most people do- it is not an excuse to sadistically kick it to death). I thought that they were trying to break in! Good that they didn't because the police never arrived. The morning after, when the person that took my call phoned asking if I was okay... well I could have not been, and the bloody police never turned up! You've got to love Hackney.

Anyway, back to the flat search: people were sooooo desperate to get a place to live that they wanted to take ours without seeing it, they were sending friends, they were offering bribes! It seems that because of the time of the year, this area was dried up of one bedroom flats. There was this one couple who had a beautiful daughter, ginger short curls and round eyes... She looked more like a forest elf than a child. They wanted to live here even with us telling them about the damp and the problems with the neighbours and the lack of light... I even told them : this is not a safe place for your child. They didn't care, so desperate to find a place they were.
It was difficult for us too, everything was very expensive and tiny. We even thought of looking on the South of the river (I much prefer North!) when the phonecall came... Our friends, who live vey close to us (and closer to the Tube!) had asked their landlord, just in case, and he had an empty flat in their same building! And it is bright, spacious enough and fair-priced. And it has a garden, a communal garden which we know very well, since in the last three months Johan and me have been more in their house than in ours!
It is a very nice big Victorian house. Or so they say, I am still skeptic towards Victorianism... Anyway it is good and we are moving next Saturday. So if any of the readers here in London is free and has good arms and has strangely developed a taste for carrying books up and down stairs... well, I have 20 boxes full of them!

Now I am going to bake apple pie. I could be baking one for you, strong reader, if you help us next week...

Spain

2006-08-08T17:14:00.000+02:00

Damn I never keep the promises I write in my blog! I am now in Spain and have not told anything about our holidays... I will, though.
Spain is really good, being with my family is quite nice now that I have grown up enough for them to treat me like an adult. Well, sometimes too much I think: I have been asked twice whether my 6 year old cousin was my daughter. Actually I have not been asked, I have been praised for having such a beautiful young daughter that looks so much like me. The eyes they say, and I'm not ready to argue!

However, people in this little village is well weird. A woman also told me that I am much taller than the last time she saw me!! I think she is getting way too old because I only saw her last year and I stopped growing when I was 16... anyway.

Back in town

2006-07-31T13:14:00.000+02:00

Oh, how would I have stayed on holiday for like a month! It has been exciting, hot, surprising, annoying... I have gained like 14kilos, been eaten alive by mosquitoes, slept both too much and too little, seen friends, been extremely welcome by unknown people and discovered some amazing places. Crazy good holidays!
For now I just wanted to say hiya, because I have a very very damp and dirty flat to clean, a very empty fridge to fill and a few posts to think about.

Backpacking

2006-07-18T11:10:00.000+02:00

I have finished one essay that has been corrected by my very kind classmate. I will be sending it off to be graded today. The other essay has received more criticism than I expected and will have to work on it. I am okay with it because now I know how to do it and what is wrong with it, so I don't think that it will take me more than a few hours. I have to write another essay (buah!!!) but that will be after.... after the holiday I have been dreaming about for weeks, if not months...

Tomorrow/tonight: Up at two, train at three, Gatwick at 4, flight at 6, Split (Croatia) 9:30 -one hour difference, Mostar (Bosnia) at some point later...
We will be spending two days in Mostar, then going to Sarajevo and Bjeslanica, where Azra and Harun will be getting married in the longest wedding ever. A wedding that includes a full day of rafting in the rivers. Who said that weddings are a pain? I did, ok, but a wedding that includes rafting? Probably not such a pain!
After that we are going back to Split (7 hours bus trip, not so fun) and take the Ferry to Italy, where my friend Barbara will be waiting for us and is "forcing" us to spend a day in the therms where she works. An I do not want to disappoint our host....

Needless to say that I will be saying adios to my computer for 10 solid days, unless my email checking addiction calls me at some point , but I really hope it won't.

We are oh-so-ready-to-go!

EDIT: I forgot to say that with this excitement and the stress of the essay I keep forgetting my meals until I feel dizzy!!

Two years ago

2006-07-16T18:22:00.000+02:00

Such a day as today, two years ago I woke up with a heavy head after a night out. After a few hours at work I was feeling so tired that I decided to call the friend I was going to meet that evening to cancel our appointment. I called her and said "hey, I'm soooo knackered..." And she replied "Nooooooooooo, please do not tell me that you want to cancel the drink tonight because I am having the most horrible day ever and I keep thinking of tonight's beer as a way to escape!" So I replied (forgive me for being the worst liar on planet Earth) "Oh, no I would never! I was just phoning to share my a jawn with you. AHohaaa! See? I'll pick you up"

So after a few hours and another quick phonecall from my friend telling me that this ex-colleague of ours was back in town for the summer and that she had invited him for a drink with us (if I didn't mind -of course I didn't), I found myself in a really nice pub I have never been to. I drank beer and ate crisps (I am in London, remember?). And felt more comfortable with this ex-colleague that I have never been with any other colleague. So much that I didn't mind when he said that we should backpack around Europe together the summer after that. So comfortable that when he asked me which names was I was thinking of for our children, it felt very natural to anwer him "Lola" (he said "Hugo" and we both agreed that they were good names). I felt so comfortable than when we took the night bus home, it seemed to me that we were in a black cab. So comfortable that I smiled first thing in the morning and agreed to go to the supermarket together with him to get some breakfast. Later that day I was still so comfortable that I invited him to meet my friend in Camden and then back home. And this day, after two years, I am still really, really comfortable with the way my life changed.

Snake tongue

2006-07-14T17:04:00.000+02:00

Si, si, ya se que lo unico que hago ultimamente es quejarme pero es que tengo mucho estres... Porque quien me mandaria a mi, digo yo, meterme a estudiar un Master en literatura. Porque se supone que a los bibliotecarios nos gusta leer y todo eso y en mi caso es verdad, pero de ahi a ser criticos literarios va un cacho y del tipo que quieren aqui otro mas. Y encima ingles! Si es que...

El otro dia pensaba que esto de estudiar es un poco como ir al gimnasio. Que te acostumbras y vas dos o tres veces por semana, si. Que luego duermes estupendamente y tienes el culo bien duro. Vale. Pero que disfrutes los resultados y la piel te reluzca no significa que te guste sudar en la cinta, verdad? Pues eso, lo mismo para mi con estos estudios. Que estoy aprendiendo mucho y me vienen bien para mover el cerebro pero este maraton a escribir ensayos... pues como la cinta, deseando que se acabe para irme a al bano turco. Y dudando que el culo se me ponga duro.

Siendo realistas, lo que quizas deberia haber hecho es un Master en Espana al que le tenia echado el ojo y que en realidad se ajustaba mas a lo que yo queria hacer, pero claro, esto de vivir en el extranjero... ya se sabe. Mas facil ir a clase aqui y mejor tener un titulo ingles que uno espanol. Que tonteria, verdad? No deberia ser asi. Incluso si un dia de estos decido volver a casa por Navidad, sera bien util tener un Master ingles. Lo mismo que si acabo en Suecia... O eso me digo yo a mi misma todo el tiempo, asi que ni se os ocurra contradecirme.

Y otra cosa que me pone de muy mala leche de mi Universidad. Seguramente esto es un mal comun, pero a mi me da mucha rabia. Cual es la labor el profesor? Porque vamos a ver, esta muy bien tener una clase por dos horas a la semana, que esa clases te de ideas a la hora de escribir, que te recomienden libros y articulos y que tu hagas una presentacion cada mes. Muy bien. Pero por este trabajo no te dan la nota! La nota te la dan por los puneteros ensayos que escribes al final. Y solo se dignan a comentar el primero de los ensayos que haces antes de presentarlo. Despues de eso, solo te dicen si tu idea les parece bueno o no. Pues vaya rollo. Si el objetivo de estos estudios es la investigacion en diversos campos de la literatura, quizas necesites una "guia" continua, no? Alguien que te aconseje todo el rato si lo necesitas, que te responda dudas...

Pues nada, que igual suspendo. Y si suspendo, pues bueno, que le vamos a hacer! Yo les echare la mitad de la culpa a los coordinadores (porque profesores, no se), por no querer aconsejarme. Egoistas!

And after this outburst in my mother tongue, I go back to my lovely essay. Damn!

Pure lazy? Or what?

2006-07-11T12:44:00.000+02:00

Since I was in school studying has been something I have never liked, although I hate to admit it. I like "moving" my brain and I like the product of the studying and the way it "shapes" you but the process? Nah! I really, really do not like it. And the pressure? Even less. So I guess that that's why I am having such a hard time. I guess that I am just plain lazy...
I really do not like sitting in front of the computer for many hours trying to write a piece. I much rather check my email, and my blogroll (people whose blog I check every 5 minutes, please do not think I am a stalker, I do that a lot. Does that make it any better?) or read my books or...
However, after a chat with Johan yesterday in which I was asking for support but he answered with "Stop complaining and get on with it" and I got quite upset and angry I have realised that I have to get on with it and that if I fail, well... I don't want to think about it.

In the meantime I am dreaming with the holidays in Bosnia and Italy that await us...

By the way, to compensate Johan made an apple pie while I was having one more hour studying at night... You have to forgive him for being right, right? Especially if he processes the fruits you don't eat into some really comforting food. The other day he pressed an orange juice with a fork. And I keep being bitch and thinking of me me me... my essays me me me!

Square eyes

2006-07-10T15:31:00.000+02:00

I really hope that when I am done with it, this Masters is going to pay off because, at the minute I am damning every minute I spend in front of the computer. And as much as I love reading the books and attending the lessons, I hate the essay writing. I actively hate it. My stomach aches and I feel very, very down. After all, the fact that I write them and do my best does not mean that I am going to pass. And this thought makes me even more down.

Tonight I had the most amazing dream

2006-07-07T13:10:00.000+02:00

I was in Malmo (Sweden), cycling to University when I remembered I had to go to buy some cakes. On my way to the cake shop, I saw a massive, tremendous building and decided to climb up. While I was climbing, part of the building was disappearing, but I didn't care, because from that position, I could see the whole world... I had a machine that allowed me to see Johan's old flat in Copenhagen, our flat etc. I found it fascinating, because I was seeing the Turning Torso both in front of me and from the sky. I don't know why I only looked at these places when could see everything!

Then somebody helped me to go down to the ground (by then there was almost no building left and my legs were all entangled) and I cycled back home, feeling the sea breeze in my face and having a basket full of buns.

Yeah, I know it sounds like Google Earth but was much cooler. And yes, I miss Sverige sometimes too.

Essay writing

2006-07-06T11:10:00.000+02:00

I am on holiday since last Wednesday. But it is not so Jippie!! Since I have to study big time. I started this Masters last September while I was in Sweden and, let me tell you, it was a nightmare! I didn't understand anything!! My despair was caused by a mixture of studying at a Masters level, in English and a subject I have never done before. And in distance. And having to write an essay (never done it this way). So only because I had payed good money didn't give up. My idea was to finish it in an academic year but, seeing that it was costing me blood, sweat and tears (quite literally) I decided to change my status to part time and be take two years to complete the MA. I also moved back to London to attend classes, which is quite helpful to get a better perspective. All this has helped a lot to finally enjoy what I do.
Anyway I have now finished my first essay. Everybody says that it is the most difficult one and I certainly hope so because man, it's been really tough! It seems that I also chose one of the most "obscure" subjects for my essay, very smart of me, uh? My teacher has to do what I expect to be minor corrections (fingers and toes crossed) so the paper will be ready for submission.

Now I only have to submit another two essays before the 14th of August. And I am going on Holiday (proper one!) on the 19th of July and I would like to have most part done by then. I mean to have two already submitted and another one half a way through. Let's see. Otherwise I will have to study in Spain and that would be a pain... and loads of pressure!
as I said, the first essay was really difficult, but this second one is much easier. Well, not easy peasy but at least I know what I am talking about. And where to find the information etc. And I have the essay structure already done. Looking good, looking good.

In need

2006-07-05T11:35:00.000+02:00

Ehem, sorry... no real post today. Just some begging:
Can anybody buy me a green dress? It is one of the few little things that I miss in life...
By the way, my new discovery is "Freecycle". We got a really new tv and ironing board the other day... free!

Here's the reason why

2006-07-03T10:55:00.000+02:00

Yes, I was kind of looking forward to come back. Not that I have any answers to any of those questions, but hey! I do not have the answers to many of the mysteries of the world and I am still alive, right?

The problem, is mainly that I have been in a perpetuous anxious mood due to our new flat and that I am freaking out every couple of days. Oh, I also feel like becoming a full-time smoker.
It turns out that the chicken bone incident was not an isolated one and that we have a group of very very dodgy kids hanging around our courtyard all the time. The broke the neighbour's bike, throw things at our/his courtyard, pee in ours (yes, I mean pee as in urinating) in our window... only because we tell them that they arebeing too loud. You guys should see the place (quite difficukt to describe, actually): it's a basement flat in the back of a commercial building, it feels kind of isolating being at home hearing but not seeing what is going on upstairs... they also talk about mugging and beating people up (sometimes this "people" is us). They may be only talking and trying to get reactions, but boy, I don't want to find out! Anyway we have phoned people, police, associations, we had a meeting with our landlord and have decided to move. Again. We don't really have the strength of being ruthless with the (ie phoning the police all the time) since this is not our home. We just moved in here a month ago! If we don't want to loose any money, we have to find somebody that wants to take or flat so we can get out. This is a moral dilema too, wahat are we suppossed to say (since I am one of the worst liars EVERand Johan is not much better that me)? I am sure that people take things differently... That is either somebody that works in the evenings or really big. However we are not going to be able to find this person, find ourselves another flat, write essays etc before going on holiday, so we are leaving the search until middle August to move at the beginning of September. Any candidates/suggestions/prayers welcome.

As you can imagine these days (days that seems like years to me) I have been quite stressed... Good that at least I had set my mind to write my essays properly... and it's working! I am working (when I am not smoking, that is).

Now, enough for a slow comeback. Next post to come very soon (with loads of pics!)

EDIT: Man, I have had bad luck in houses I the last few months... See evidence also here and here. I mean, how difficult is to get it kind of right? Very, people, very.

Questions and... answers?

2006-06-13T17:58:00.000+02:00

Tidy brain brainstorming with chaotic brain a couple of days ago.

I see you a bit weird... You ok?
Well, it's this blog... Can not make up my mind!

Ok, let's play Question/Answer. Quick, Ok?
Ready!

Do you enjoy writing these entries?
Sometimes

Do you force yourself to write something in the blog?
Many times, at least lately

Do you think of new things to write about all the time?
Yep

Do you actually write about them?
Nope

Is this improving your writing skills?
Don't know

And your language skills?
Don't know either

Do you feel tense about what you write?
Oh, yes!

Does it make it any better that your real name is in the http address?
Probably not

And what about the fact that you told many people about this blog at the beginning?
I guess not

Because you can not write about work, right?
Not really

And maybe you shouldn't write about your friends?
Mmmm... no

And what about feelings?
I should not write about those, no

So If you can not write about your friends, your work, your feelings, opinions... what the hell can you write about? Daily shopping?
I don't know, maybe?

Maybe you should think about it for a bit?
I guess so

But that means a blogging break, you realise that?
Yes, I do.

Break time it is, then.
Right.

On chicken bones

2006-06-02T09:17:00.000+02:00

Now now, I am going to take a breath in my busy schedule of cleaning to explain, as much as I can, the chicken phenomenon in London. Although I am not sure whether I completely understand it, I just observe it in a really amused and disgusted way.

It is very common here seeing gangs of teenagers (early and late) with a box of chicken in their hands. They finish school, and there they are, going to the local chicken shop, buying a massive box of ckicken pieces for £1.99 in a posh place or 99p in a normal price one. In those places, they cover the undetermined parts of the chicken body in thick spicy batter so you do feel the antibiotic flavour of the meat. Those poor chicken (if they are actually so) have probably lived only for a couple of weeks, enough to get them massive stuffing them with hormones, piled up in cages somewhere in Africa where the farmers can inject them but not eat them. Sorry, I am going towards the ethical part of the "food" trade and that was not the intention.

The chicken that these people eat is a taky version of KFC (isn't that eanough saying??). And it is not like they are drunk and they would eat their mother if she were covered in batter and deep fried, because we have all been there, haven't we? It is that they love it! I am really not sure where this obsession comes from. Culturally, I've heard that in the Caribbean they have quite a chicken-eating culture, so maybe (if this is true) it comes from there. Or maybe it's just that it is cheap...

The issue is that they eat it all the time, the girls, going out on a Saturday night, all dressed up, with piercing on the upper part of the lip and their tight ponytails and their boyfriends (who are exactly the same but male, of course). And there they are, taking the bus (it is free for under 16's!), all made up and eating those greasy, stinky drumsticks and throwing them in the floor. They have no rubbish bin at home, seems like, so they do the same in the street. In a few years they will say "That's why I pay council tax, so they pick up my rubbish!" and somebody would say, "Well, maybe id you didn't throw the rubbish totally randomly, your council taxes would go in propper housing". But anyway, they are not just at that point of their life yet.

And what they do, when hanging around with their mates (although now they call eachother "Blood"!!), is eating chicken and throw the bones in the street. Many times at eachother. Once Johan got caught in a Ckicken fight and a bone hi him in the head. That's Brixton for you!

The luxury item are the Chicken Wings. They are more expensive (up to £2.50 or so, I guess) per dozen. And that is what I found the other day when we arrived to our place. Ckicken wings bones in the courtyard. It seems that they were feasting away and, like the good Romans they are, decided that there should be some slaves around to pick up their shit. It was disgusting, but it was not surprising, to be honest.

Yesterday we went to our new Hole. That is how Johan has decided to call our new flat. It is true that is a cave (lower ground floor with a weird living room that has one window towards the bedroom) but I think that we will make it cosy. Unfortunately, we are very poor and can not afford much more. I am quite positive about it but Johan is not so much, he hates it already! Swedes have quite a high standard when it comes to flats, and we are in London, where the standards are just really, really low. Unless you can pay loads of money in which case you will probably find a very nice flat. But this is not the case.

I guess that the fact that the landlord didn't do any cleaning before we moved in, that the courtyard was filthy, and that it took me more than three hours to make the bath room accceptable for not catching any disease, doesn't help to have a homy feeling straight away. Mmmm... another not so nice point about the flat is that there is a family living upstairs who seem to have loads of teenagers living/visiting. They did weird noises for ten minutes last night, I wasn't sure if they were fighting or what the hell they were doing, because I did not understand a word they were saying. We hope that this will not be an everyday thing, because they were quite intimidating.

I was going to put some pictures to illustrate this phenomenon, but I think that I's better go and puke. To see the kind of people I mean, please check this out. And pray for me. Please.

New flat

2006-06-01T09:23:00.000+02:00

I am just writing a few words to say that I have never been as busy as the last month. When I have an hour or so in from of the computer I will explain how everything was in my school trip, with the several visit as maybe a wee bit more about that fantastic windmill. For now, though, just let you know that we are moving on Saturday and that yesterday, when we go the keys for the new flat, and after a celebratory courgettes and brie pizza (mmmmm...) went to have a look at it. And it was filthy!!
Some people had decide to throw some chicken bones in the courtyard and the previous tenant had left milk in the fridge, so it means that it has been there for almost two months!! Anyway, we are cleaning like crazy this evening, and now, before going to college, I am passing by Argos (oh! How I hate this place!!) to buy a toilet seat. Romantic, uh??

The Redmill

2006-05-21T22:12:00.000+02:00

After a late Friday night train journey, some food shopping in a 24 Supermarket and a quite smooth arrival to the middle of nowhere, Johan, a couple of friends and me have spent a great relaxing weekend here:
Loads of lovely food, very dark nights (wow with London's light pollution!), wet sky and shoes, quite a lot of reading and laughs...

Black circles under my eyes

2006-05-19T16:16:00.000+02:00

This week I have been the most tired I have been in a long time. After three days of non stop walking and rain, on Monday my body and mind felt exhausted. I couldn't concentrate, I lost a full day at work, among efforts to concentrate and telephone calls. Because it was my birthday, so had many, many calls. This is great, of course, all family and friends calling. The issue is that I really couldn't speak properly (ie say things that matter and understand the things that are said to you) because I was so tired. But anyway I convinced myself that I should go out for dinner as planned. I though that the day after, the tiredness I would be feeling would be a happy one, a tiredness of having made the effort to do something that was worth it, and to know that you will recover soon, But it wasn't. It was good night, with good friends and yummy food, but the day after I was so, so tired that I wanted to cry. And I wanted to cry when thinking that this weekend I am going away to an idyllic windmill in Norfolk but that ait this minute, I would rather not to. Also that only after a few hours of arriving back, I will be on my way to France, and that after that, I will have two sets of people visiting and a moving to do. And essays to write. Specially that: I need peoce of mind to get my studies done, and I do not have it.

And I thought of my times when I was doing my undergraduate, how drained I was most of the time, how difficult it was to keep a normal timing for eating, sleeping and studying. It was barely impossible. I was tired and acky all the time and it took a big effort to concentrate on anything. I remember sometimes in which I felt the most horrible I have ever felt, in which I couldn't sleep at all (and I have never been like that, ask my mum!) because of the mess I had in my mind. And I was serious and sad and treating people badly because I... Well, I just couldn't do anything else, I guess. Back then, some friendships of mine broke, some modules were failed and some kilos were lost. Brrr, it gives me the shivers only remebering! At that time, I could only sleep when watching TV, because the stuff on TV took away my thoughs and my own emotions, so I slept.

What I meant to say with this is that the last few days I felt the same way, utterly stressed and anxious! Not for personal problems that lead me to a bad state (at the end of that time I was talking, whatever caused me the pain wasn't even important, it was my destructive attitude towards things), but the stress of having so many things to do and not being able to cope with all of them. It was a very, very bad thing going back to those times. I had similar nightmares to the ones I had years ago, and the anxiety came back.

I am sorry if this doesn't make much sense, but it is kind of a relief to admit that there was a time in my life in which I was causing myself a lot of pain. Of course, back then I blamed everybody but me.

And nowadays, after all this time, when Johan half-complains because I get tired early, I think that at least, I am not tired all the time.

Image: Jennifer Bartlett, Dark Circles, 2000

Annoying room

2006-05-19T11:38:00.000+02:00

Yesterday, in University, one of my classmates told us that a friend of hers had developed a really bad kind of torture. She had his imaginary room in which she would lock up the people that annoyed her the most. So, if you'd really really hate somebody, you would put them in that room until they cracked.
This can also be a way to put your finger on some people and be relieved that you have, finally, put the in your list of "The most annoying people. Ever" And I do not mean bad people, or people that disagree with you, just people that makes you feel kind of violent because they annoy you so much.

I am sooo making mine right now... It would include:

The crazy frog (But I guess this is not only me)
Somebody I know who everything he/she says is wrong (and no, there is not a chance that he/she could be reading this blog, so do not feel offended!)
Claire Forlani. How can you be so annoyingly bland?
All those people that write comments is funny blogs thinking that they are serious. (the Spanish speakers, please click here or here and will have many examples)

Let me think a bit more and I may come back for updates... In the meantime, who would you, dear reader, pick?

My feet are aching of so much walking

2006-05-15T12:53:00.000+02:00

One of the good things that having people over is that you do things you may never do if they didn’t come. For example, taking one of those tourist boats that explain the History of the city as you go by. Or have a buffet breakfast in a central hotel. Or eating so much so many times (in all those restaurants that you always wanted to try) that you think you will never ever be hungry again.
The other good thing is that you can show them places they will most probably never see unless they go with you. And of course, that they love it!
And the third and fourth good thing is the happiness that makes you, after a horrible long day, wait in the lobby of a hotel for those people that you adore to arrive. And that during three days they spoil you rotten!

It has been a wonderful, long weekend.

May

2006-05-12T10:57:00.000+02:00

Yesterday, in one of my lesson, we were talking about diary writing. How many people tend o write more when they are having a crisis, or have worries, as a way of unburden one self, or maybe let some steam off. I guess that for me it is the same. That's why I am not writing that much lately. Well, I guess that the working, studying, essay writing etc have something to do with it too... I am really, really busy. And I will get even more this month of May. Here's a list of the reasons (Yeah, I love these and so?):

I have family visiting for a few days (twice). Loving this.
It's my birthday (will be closer to 30 than 20 in a few days!)
I am going to spend a weekend with Johan and some friends in a windmill. How cool is that?
I am going to Eurodisney with the kids in my school for a few days (Can't wait!)
I have to finish one essay that is making me crazy.
I am (finally) moving house
And I still have to sleep, have showers, eat and read. Oh, and work.

So here's the reasons why most probably the updates in the next month will not be very frequent. But I am happy. And busy. And the weather is finally warm. Now back to my essay.

Image from davidrailly.com. I typed "Hectic" in Google's image search and this came up. As busy as a dodo???

Spanglish

2006-05-05T11:43:00.000+02:00

Yesterday I was coming from Uni with a classmate of mine on the tube,and a group of Spaniards sat next to us. Their conversation was totally uninteresting, they were only thinking of how many Martini bottles they should buy for a boring party they were organising. They disn't say it would be boring, I just assumed it because they seemed a pretty boring lot.
However boring, I could not help but listen to what they were saying, internalising every sentence without effort and moreover, taking my brain to the "Spanish side". So much, that I ended up saying to my friend a full sentence in Spanish. Ridiculous. Because I didn't realise and because nowadays, the language that comes to my mind is English, the one I live on... And even when I speak to my mum on the phone, I feel weird for a good 5 minutes.
But it just happens like that, as soon as I have a Spanish convestaion going on in the background, my English disappears.

The bad thing is that it happens many times... Last Saturday was the same story: two Spaniards, and Englishman and an Italian girl, having lunch right next to us. Speaking in Spanish, very slight foreign accent. Totally absorbed into their conversation (a wee bit more interesting this time). And ok that Johan speaks Spanish better and better each day, but I can not go and spit whatever comes to my mind without warning him or, at least making a proper sentence.

It's even worse when I am in Spain, specially when I am with my family. The background is so noisy (big, shouting, lovely family) that does not allow me to think even what I am going to say. I just say things. And if I have to combine both languages and tranlate things, for example, I get extremely tired and in a terrible mood. I couldn't be an interpreter, no no.

All this to take me to this point: Johan and me speak in English most of the time, we speak in Spanish mostly for fun, but this is getting so good that soon we will be a ble to turn it to the other way round.

And will I ever learn Swedish? I am planning to take lessons next year, so I hope I will. And If I do, will this mess happen over and over again? In whatever country we end up living? Will I have to renounce to my language in order not to get in a bad mood? And if I don't, will I always be in a bad mood? Or maybe stop speaking any other language?

It's no time for answers yet though. I need sometime in thinking about it. Maybe in the park?

Pictures from kreykull.com and amherst.edu. (not in that order) No idea what the sites are about, though.
Ah! and Spanglish is possibly the worst film I have ever ever seen. Mmmm... maybe with the exception of Nicole Kidman's Bewitched. But not by far.

It's been a great weekend

2006-05-01T23:15:00.000+02:00

I drank more cold beers than I needed
Had smaller hangovers than expected
Bought a great pair of (very needed) jeans
Had the most healthy food in a barbecue party ever
Found a bigger flat than I ever expected to find for a very cheap price
Laughed a great, massive deal
Ate two falafels
Realised I need a haircut
Spoke more Spanish than I have done in months
Discovered that there are "Playgroups for adults"
Felt the urge of making a sand castle
Saw a child peeing in the bath
Not study at all
Organise a weekend in a windmill
Looked for a fishtank over the internet
Found a way of doing a Permalink for the "About me" in my blog
Not being able to take away the fat dot of the "About me"
Given a deposit for a new flat
Laughed a wee bit more

About me

2006-04-28T09:59:00.000+02:00

My name is Ana and I was born in Bilbao (North of Spain) nearly 26 years ago. When I was two I carried a massive rock from the nearby park to my bedroom only because my dad didn't want to carry it for me. The rock stayed there for years, until my grandma throw it away. I kind of wish she didn't so I could illustrate my stubbornness and say : See? It's always been like that, can't change! "Taurus Taurus Taurus", my mum says.

I went to a school that was half private half public. There were good things there, I guess, but I do not remember it as a great school. I guess because my friends were not great either. It was ok for the time, but I was aware that this was not it and that I would know better in the future.

So when it was time to go to Uni I didn't even think about it staying at home, I wanted to study something I couldn't in Bilbao... I was lucky that what I wanted (this 18 year old want, mind you) to study wasn't available there anyway. So I started my Librarianship studies in a famous student city: Salamanca. I only studied for a few months though. Then I only partied and argued and got really hurt and hung out with people that were very nocive for me. I guess I wasn't good for them either... that came from my own frustation: of not finding my place.

After a few years of doing things I really do not want to remember, I realised that I wan't recognizing myself anymore. And there is a moment in the life of every woman when you have to take a determination. My choices were:
- Cut my hair (I couldn't do this because I was tryin to leave mine long)
- Break up with you boyfriends (or alternatively make hell for the people surrounding you)
- Move to another country (mmmmmmm...)
Sometimes the things I did and the way I behaved haunt me in my dreams... I am not being cheesy, I swear it's true.

So I moved to Paris, I kept partying but eating better and found really, really good friends. The ones that you know will be there, the ones that will not think that you behave badly because you are mean, but try to understand why you are doing this or that... the ones that just get you.

And I was happy there. And I cried more than I though I ever could (I recommend the Paris underground for this kind of activity), laughed harder, and became finally the person I wanted to be, I was being true to myself.
Oh la la, la vie Parisienne! The city of Light! How much bad wine I drank and what special bonds I created...

At the time I was going out (on and off) with a guy that proposed me to com to London. Why not? I though? A bit more rain, no friends, nothing to loose, another language to learn...

The relationship didn't last, but I stayed anyway. I worked for two years in a bookshop, I cooked my meals etc. You know, normal life.

And the I met Johan. He talked about backpacking, about names of children, about living with principles. He took the leads off the jam jars and put them away from the breakfast table only because it's nicer like that, he made me fall head over hills for him.

Johan lived by the time in Denmark (even though he's Swedish) my peregrination to the Nordic countries started: once a months I would go, once a month he would come to see me.

At the time I worked in the Library of a private School, I enjoyed my job. I stopped smoking and started execising. I changed the pints of beer for the hourly telephone conversation. This lasted a happily painful year. Then I went to spend a few months in Sweden with Johan while he finished his studies. I started a Master degree in Children's Literature (Distance Learning) which was pretty hard.

It was in Sweden where I started this blog. Because even though I really liked it there, I felt lonely. Because I didn't speak the language and I didn't feel I had time to learn it (I was there for five months only), because I didn't have friends and I didn't have time to make any...

At the beginning I intended to write both in English and Spanish, but whatever came to me in Spanish was generally too personal to share it. So the official language of this blog is English, so I pratice my writing too.
The name of this Blog came from my uncle, who thinks of me as "I am not sure if you have a chaotic tidiness or a tidy chaos". I am not sure, either.

Now I live in North London, work in a school I love, I enjoy my lessons, I have a steady (and cool!) group of friends and I am still in love. What else would I want?
Oh, yes. More money. And a skin like the one I had when I was 18. And a flat of our own. But you will find out about that in next posts.

Every time that I read a visit a new blog I desperately look for this "About me" that makes the stories have more sense. Who is the person behind this? Is he or she real? Anyway, here's my long delayed about me. Now I have to find out how on Earth make it a Permalink...

Summerstorm... and the living is easy

2006-04-19T16:52:00.000+02:00

So the good weather has arrived. I do not mean that I can walk on shorts or T-shirts or even cardigans. I mean that now you can walk to the tube without hating every second of it, and even in the night, it is bearable to be in the streets. Oh, and going for a walk nopt because you need air for being at home for the whole Sunday and you have to, but because you really feel like it.
And the joy of the first summer storm! All right, it is not actually Summer yet, but the rain it not cold as ice, not does it matter to get a bit wet...

When I was a teenager and used to go to this little village during the summer time, it was always very hot during the day, and pleasantly cool at night. But once or twice, by the end of August, it would rain. We would then prepare a big pot of thick hot chocolate, buy sponge cake and fairy cakes and eat in at somebody's old acconditioned warehouse. It was really nice, because by the end of the long summer, we were all very close. And we would regard already as "memories" what had happenned barely a month before.

It is funny to think about that time, about how the boy you liked so much last summer seemed a twat this one, those crazy (many times drunken) kisses or the fights over who would organize the next dinner party... The dinner parties, by the way, were not very chick, they were only about whatever we could grab at home that was ready for that night's dinner. No, no grandma, I am not coming for dinner... Can I not have the fried egg in a sandwich??

It is funny also how the bonds that were created by those neverending summers would always stay with you during the winter, even if you would not really keep in touch (no blogs, or msn by the!). However, it was always very likely that you would need to kind or re-stablish those bonds again and every summer. And I remember receiving a thousand letters in September, colouring the envelops, cutting out nice pictures from magazines or writing to your summer best friend during a lesson, talking with your school friends about your summer boy...

And the awkwardness of the summer after, when you were not sure where to find your friends. Or maybe you knew all right, but were too scared of going to meet them up, maybe because you had gotten a bit fatter, or has a big spot, or felt too embarrassed to see you last-summer sweetheart.
Things have changed, of course. By then, I would be proud thinking of how different we all were, different cities, upbringing, taste, ideology etc. What would make me proud wasn't the difference itself, but the fact that despite being that unlikely to get together in our own hometown, we shared something massive, exciting and very, very important every summer.

Edward Hopper, Summer evening: . 1947, Oil on canvas, 30 x 42 inches; Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert H. Kinney

No, I am not going to tell you who I am.

They don't live by the river...

2006-04-12T09:57:00.000+02:00

I have just had my late Christmas present: a tiny digital camera! Hurray! I can not wait to use it... I know that I could use it straight away but if I do, the film that is half used in my non-digital camera will stay there and probably rot away. So I took my old camera to Brighton this weekend, yes, with the intention of taking so many pictures that I could develop the film in time for this post. I took amateur-arty pictures of Johan in a pebble dune, of the beers in the Thai restaurant, of my shoes, cheesy ones with the pier on the back... I didn't succeed. I still have six pictures to take. I hate that time when I decided to buy 10 36picture photo rolls! I hope I will finish them this weekend, since we have some visitors from Sweden.

So... Brighton. Brighton rocks!
Our B&B was amazing, all decorated art deco style: the chairs, lamps and sofas were gorgeous, and they serve amazing breakfasts! They room was tiny, but the paperwall was so kitsch that we didn't care.

We walked, had endless capuccinos in airy cafes (I don't think I saw ANY Starbucks, by the way), visited an amazing vegetarian pub, checked the prices of the flats dreaming of moving close to the sea and met a friends of Johan for tea.
Tea... No for me, though. I refuse to get too anglanised!

Then we had 6 bottles of wine with a friend of a friend (we met a couple of weeks earlier and, since she and her husband live in Brighton, I decided to give her a call). And some beers. Oh my, how extremely drunk I was! We talked about Swedish traditions, Vatican archives and Architecture. Well, by then I was drunk enough for my theory on Victorian fakeness to slip out of my mouth. I said that everything in England seems to be Victorian and that even if it was a very important period, I reckon that many people do not really know what they are saying when they say "It's Victorian". I do not mean to underestimate the power of Vicky (God bless her!) I am just saying that there may be the slight possibility of some other periods of English history being overlooked. Does that make sense? Because, C'mon! No way in 60 years they could have built so many houses! (and so many more that were destroyed during The Blitz: the second omnipresent time of History). Maybe they are inspired by, or similar to, pre-Victorian or just old!!
Well, my theory didn't seem to be too popular within my English (and Britishised American) companions, who though that I was mad and that I was attacking a fartooimportant point. So much Monty Python and no sense of Humour...

The funniest part of the nigh though, was actually the end of it. After smoking a couple of American cigarettes, I was feeling sick, and so was Johan. Goodness, what on earth do they put in those!! So we said our goodbyes and hugged. A guy pressed Johan so hard that he made him puke!!!! Why would you press somebody so hard that you make him throw up?! What a brute!
Still, I found it hilarious.

All and all, it was a fantastic weekend. Some pure sea wind and luxury... I wish we could do it more often!

I hate Telemarketers!!

2006-04-11T18:21:00.000+02:00

Ring ring!!! (Telephone)

Hello?! (You with your sweetest voice)

Nothing (I mean no sound)

Hellooo?? (Raising your voice a little)

Click. Yes, goodafternoon madam I call you fromTmobile to tell you that you have been soooo lucky to get on our special promotion. (This is somebody phoning generally from India and saying all this without breathing in the middle)

Yeah, right. Sorry, not interested (Yes, another one of those!)

But let me explain you how great out offer of "Buy one phone get 14 free" is... You wouldn't want to miss out!

Thanks for your interest, but I am all right at the moment. Please, do not take it personally...

Let me please explain you...

No! I am not interested in any calls of commercial nature. If I need something I will go myself to the shop, ok? Ah! And could you please erase this number that you are calling from your database? I do not want to be bothered again. (At this moment you are breathing quicker than you should...)

Sure, No problem, madam. (This is what she/he says to you, but right before hanging up you can hear "Bitch!")

To avoid this kind of conversations every few days go here or leave me a comment if you have a better idea... Please!

Ana, what are you reading?

2006-04-06T12:37:00.000+02:00

Well, I am glad that you asked me this, since lately I spend most of my free time with a book in my hands.

As most people who may read this blog knows, I am studying children's literature and no, I am not intending to write books for children, but rather understand what they read, how they read, how much they read and most importantly: why do they (or do they not!) read.

Spooky books, experiments in form, violence and despair... Here's a list:

RL Stine, Goosebumps Series. I think it is the equivalent to... let's say Dan Brown. Yeah, they are all right for their purpose: you don't think, pages turn quick, they are not very well written but they entertain. Hey, at least you read something, which is ALWAYS good (or so I think, at least).

Darren Shan, Cirque du Freak: Since they are so popular, I expected some kind of Goosebumps crap, but they are actually ok. Ok written, nice mystery. The main difference is that while Goosebumps, like many adult bestsellers, do not leave anything to the imagination (they descibe every little detail: color, smell, sequence) some othet better quality writing leave some gaps for you to fill in. This way you get trapped into the story, but you also move your brains!

Robert Cormier, I am the Cheese: Mmmm... I am not too sure what I think about it, really. Interesting form: tape recording transcipts, first person narrator and third person one. I am looking forward to see how the American people in my class (who read it where they were teenagers) thought about it back then.

Anne Cassidy, Looking for JJ: Very controversial book, it has been banned from some school and children libraries. It tells the story of a teenage girl who gets out of "prison" when she's 17. When she was 11, she killed her best friend. The plot is very well constructed, the characters too. But the most impressive things of all is how well the English media is pictured. It seemed to me that I was living the whole story, that I had read about it, that I may read something similar if I open one on the tabloids right now.

Virginia Euwer Wolf, Make lemonade: The rihm of this book it amazing: short sentences, almost like poetry looking and feeling. The story is good too!

On the Comic Section:

Art Spiegelman, The complete MAUS. This comic won the Pulitzer price when it was first published. No wonder, though! It tells the story of the Holocaust from the point of view of a Jewish Pole. The Jewish people are portrayed as mice and the Nazis as cats. Well, well worth it.

Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons, Watchmen: I have been looking forward to read this for a very, very long time. I got it from the library a couple of days ago...

The adult section is going to be a very short one, since having to read about three or four books a week for my course, I do not have much time to choose any other. However, I am nearly done with my compulsory reading, so I will start soon:

Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice: When I went to the library the other day, it suddenly struck me; I have lived in London for more than three years (yes, I have substracted the months in Sweden) and I have read any of the English classics. I wasn't too up for starting with Dickens, so my main option were any of the Brontes (Large Family!!) or Austen. I have never been to keen of the Victorian times, because here (and if you have ever lived or even visited England you'll know) there's no other time in History but the Victorian times. Victorian houses, Victorian manners, Victorian Society, Victorian ideology, Victorian writers, Victorian fucking everything! Actually, I reckon that nowadays they use the term Victorian for anything that is old. Anyway... I though I should at least read a couple of the most famous novels.

So there you go! This weekend we are going to Brighton to spend the money that we don't have and to have some good quality time away from London (yeah, I know, it's only one hour away... But it's by the sea!!)
I am planning to dedicate some hours to my beloved Johan Darcy...

Image from www.pemberley.com
I intended to link every book to Amazon but, you know how to find it if you are interested, right?

When you act stupidly

2006-04-05T19:52:00.000+02:00

So here's the deal. Johan and me are looking for a flat. We want wooden floors, nice neighbourhood, cheap price. We found a really nice one yesterday, a lovely one bedroom flat with a big terrace for summer days and a nice new kitchen. We put forward an offer this morning, they withdrawn £500 from my account and they asked the landlady whether she would accept £15 less per week than what she is actually asking for. The thing is, we can actually not afford it anyway, and we can not withdrawn the offer either. What if she accepts?!

Update Friday 7th April: Yes, the landlady accepted but because there were some other people willing to take the flat (and pay more money than us, I expect) we are getting those £500 back. After all this stress we have decided to stop the flat haunting for a while, until we save enough money for the agency fees (those bastards!) and to buy some furniture. Also, we will be able to save money for our Balcan Holiday!! Good news altogether, although the bathroom situation has not really improved here. Sigh!

I am so strong!

2006-04-01T18:02:00.000+02:00

I am tired and my arms are achy.

But it doesn't matter because today I exceeded my body limits and I did my first Headstand!

(Sure I had some help from my teacher but, does it really matter?)

About flatmates

2006-04-01T12:34:00.000+02:00

I have had flatmates of very different kinds and qualities. On my second year in University I lived with a girl who gained 14kg in like four months because of eating children's chocolate (one with animals on it!) in from of the TV. The other flatmate was obsessed with colour blue and the Simpsons. The year after that, my friend used to bring people home at 5 in the morning after a night partying, so I would wake up with big laughs and cigarette smoke. Or with extrangers sleeping in my sofa.
I had the let's-have-a-party-of-100-people-without-telling-anybody-in-the-flat kind of flatmate. I've had the flamate that walks away every time you confront her with a household issue and the flatmate that never gets out of his bedroom (this was a VERY scary one!)
I have had boring and fun flatmates; clean and very dirty ones. I've fought and made good friends with them.

But now, I have the most horrid flatmate: the one that never gets out of the toilet.
Every time I need to use the bathroom, he's in. He showers every time he goes to the toilet, no matter what he does: never heard of loo roll, I think. He's in at two in the morning, at seven in the evening, at midday and at least 20 times more during the day. Noises, water and my much hated air freshener!

Once he got out the shower because his girlfriend told him that I was waiting. "You don't need to do that, honestly, finish taking your shower and then I'll go" I have changed my mind, though: GET OUT!!!

I think this guy doesn't sleep. Maybe he actually sleeps in the toilet.

Maybe we should start charging for using it?

Ways of enjoying a day on my own

2006-03-31T12:16:00.000+02:00

Taking a bit longer time to fall sleep because it's weird having sooo much space in bed.
Doing "the diagonal" in bed (Thanks Alex for the expression)
Sleeping until a whopping 9:30
Think a bout the possibility of being part of a jury of a competition of stories written by children
Realise that I have the whole day for myself
Send a loving text message
Enjoy the vision of a ex-bookshop workmates (and friends!) big alcoholic reunion in a couple of weeks time
Having a second coffee
Speak with one of my best friends on the phone for nearly 45 minutes
Plan a Friday night dinner and drinks with some girlfriends
Get ready to visit a flat that looks nice and well priced
Listen to my own and only choice of music for hours...
Leave the leg-waxing for another day
Know that I have the WHOLE weekend for myself and that you will enjoy it very much
Know also that by the end of it, I will look forward to Johan to come back home (hopefully with a little French present!)
Put a picture of me dressed in my pijamas (plus old jumper) on the blog
Being happy with what I have and look forward to everything that is to come

Sushi, flowers and ferries...

2006-03-21T11:00:00.000+01:00

Ok, so I am not very good in updating my blog when I get busy. There are so many things I want to talk about... I just feel that many of those would not be interesting for anybody but me!

These have been a couple of frenetic weeks, actually. My work and studies do not leave me a lot of free time, but I am actually happy and I wish that every time that I am this busy, I enjoy it so much: Work is good and I love my studies. I hope I still saying this when I start writing my essays, though.

I have also been busy since Johan's parents are in London for a week. We took them yesterday to eat sushi... It was real fun! Johan's dad underestimated the power of the wasabi (or the green as he called it) and cried for a while. They loved it though. If anybody likes Japanese food (and you happen to be in London) do not miss Bento Cafe in Camden.

Sunday was the first Spring day. Sunny, warmish and amazing. I felt like a cat looking for the sun in every corner. We also went to Columbia Road Flower market to (finally) get a plant for our room. Fiver, fiver! A bunch for a fiver! Cheers, love!

Not everything has been lovely since Johan and me had a big massive fight that nearly costed a break up! It was really bad, but as they say: "What does not kill you makes you stronger" so we are now very much loved up! I also feel that our relationship is clearer and cleaner than it was before.
So to celebrate this we have decided to move to our own place. We are tired of waiting for the toilet every time, of not being able to have a quiet dinner and of not having enough space on the fridge. We are tired of sharing a house with people and of having to have all our stuff in one room. So the best idea is to move. We are hoping to get a cheap flat... It will be tough tough, since my part time does not pay very much, but as Johan got a great job at the Natural History Museum (jippie!!!) and will be getting ok money, he will be able to support me! I will do the same when he decides to Study a Masters, of course.

Money money money... In a place as expensive as London, money becomes such an important part of your life! It sucks, because I have never be a money person, really. Sure I like having comfortable way of living, but I do no need that much for that. Only a bit extra to pay for travel fares.

We also have a few plans for Holiday!We are going to The Balkans!!!! I would have never thought I'd say this, actually. A friend of Johan's is getting married in Sarajevo so we have the perfect excuse to have some backpacking around Bosnia and Croatia (and all these beautiful Islands). Then we are thinking about traveling by ferry to Italy. It takes one night and you sleep under the stars in the boat!! We are visiting my very good friend Barbara in Tuscany... Oh my! I can literally not wait!

Image of the Plant (The one we got is a smaller version of this one) from http://www.mgonlinestore.com/Monstera/
The second one (Croatian Islands) http://www.pointernet.pds.hu/touristinfo/free_wallpapers/croatia-2.jpg
Needless to say that other thing I can not wait for is to get my own digital camera!!!

Night is for sleeping. Winter is for hibernation.

2006-03-18T23:35:00.000+01:00

It seems to me that I have been doing the same since I was 14. Go out, get drunk, feel awful, regret. In between there is also the cigarettes, the snogging, the laughs and the good times.
Unfortunately, lately the former has been more obvious to me than the latter.

So when Johan told me that some friends have invited us to a warehouse party somewhere in Hackney I couldn't feel but "Really? Do we have to go?" Right. Ok, then, lets go.
And these friends are great, I love having a couple of drinks with them, dinner, the occasional spliff... but warehouse parties.. That's going to far. Specially if the party starts after 10.

Today was a quiet day: booking tickets for summer holiday, going to a pretty intense Yoga class, reading half of my book and watch a couple of episodes of "the Office". I had almost forgotten the party... Until we received a call saying that the party was cancelled (Yesssss!) but we were welcome to join them at somebody's place where we could make time until the second warehouse party started. You crazy, right? Leaving the house at midnight? I don't think so.

So I explained my enthusiastic boyfriend my reasons for staying watching a third episode of the Office: Cold (I was sooo wrong when I though that Spring was coming in February... Oh! So wrong!), Saturday night traffic. Long Journey. Lack of money (I am really skint). Tiredness. Hangovers. Not wanting to smoke.

And his face changed. As if I was trying to convince him not to go out... And I was only explaining why I didn't feel like it (at all, actually). Well, maybe I was trying to redeem myself for being soooo boring.

I am trying to say to myself that my nights in bars have not ended, that only they are now a bit less frequent... That maybe fun is not about going out drinking. And, since I am not much of a a dancer, myself, but more the staying in the bar kind, I can do the same during the day!

But you know what? Maybe I am boring! And I like meeting my friends at 8 o'clock (or earlier). And I prefer staying at home on a cold Saturday night. Maybe I can not be bothered to force myself to feel like going out anymore. Not after 10, anyway.

As a woman

2006-03-08T16:35:00.000+01:00

You are expected to have a family, be healthy, raise your children adequately, take care of the education, be waxed, have perfect hair, have an excellent taste, be patient, don’t allow anybody to notice your PMS or your days of bad mood, be efficient, powerful, erotic, sexually active (but not too much or with not to many), be a mother and a whore, be a lady and a business woman, speak languages, know how to listen, be faithful and loyal, be a bit superficial, work until late hours and never neglect your family or partner, cook beautiful meals, have money, be thin but never on a diet, drink as a man but never get more than tipsy, be emotionally stable, always have time…

We are going through a lifetime long interview. And we need to prove ourselves every minute.

Para quienes hablan español, un artículo muy interesante

I knew that it wouldn't be a good day when

2006-03-06T11:00:00.000+01:00

the alarm clock rang
I woke up feeling sad
the bus was late
questioned a few aspects of my life before 8 AM
couldn't read my book on the bus because a group of teenagers were shouting
I couldn't understand more than 30% of what they were saying
thought that despite of being here for years, I still feel very foreigner
The traffic was horrible

And I had the sad confirmation that this wouldn't be a good day when...

Amy concluded her blog.

Me, my books and I

2006-03-04T10:21:00.000+01:00

Following a quite successful first professional meeting and very nice University sessions, I have decided to start a reading group in my school. Wouldn't that be cool? Maybe meeting once or twice a month, discuss different titles and organise activities to get the pupils talking about books.
I am very excited about it... I would have loved it when I was a teenager and... erm... I would still love it now!

I am extremely busy with my reading these weeks. While they are really nice books and I am learning a lot (both at work and in Uni) it takes so much time... I am reading an average of four books a week that even if they are children and teenage novels, it takes many hours to get the weekly reading done! I stay at work for a couple of hours after I finish ,so I have a cuppa and read, I take the bus so it will take longer to get to places, I read on the gym, before going to sleep...

On Thursday I did my first presentation for my MA in Children's Literature. It was about Comics, graphic novels and how people sometimes consider them to be a "Lower class" reading. I got congratulations from my professor! she said that she had actually scraped a good part of her lesson plan because I had already covered it all in a very constructive way. Is this good or what!?

Also... I already know what I am going to write about in my dissertation! Jippie!! Ok, this is not due until Summer 2007, but I feel happy I have decided where I want to go with my research. I will write about Reading Promotion: reading groups, posters, activities, improvement of Literacy. Anything that will hook a child on reading!

Ok, I am aware that for many people this is not very exciting, but I find it fascinating and I am sure it will be FUN!!!

I am not that sure how this copyright thing work, but just in case... The image is called Woman reading wampus and I found it in www.usc.edu. Am I covered like that??

Lately I got to thinking...

2006-03-03T18:50:00.000+01:00

...about endless love.

Because there's the house, and the alarm clock, and the switch the light off 'cos I waking up early, and the we need to go to the supermarket for food, and the farts, and the lack of money, and the bad moods, and the not waking up extremely happy just for the fact of being with each other.

And there's the nice things, like the sunny mornings in the park, and the occasional trip, and the veggie breakfast on the cafe opposite, and the Turkish restaurants treats, and the...

How can you make those (nice) thing to matter more that the other (boring) ones?

How do you keep the balance between you relationship and everything else without missing on any?

Ups! Sorry about the intentional bad copy of Carrie Bradshaw column starting style.

Risks of going for a drink on a Tuesday

2006-03-01T10:34:00.000+01:00

1/ Accepting a third pint of beer

2/ Being told that you are a fast drinker

3/ Realise that you actually are quite a fast beer drinker

4/ Being convinced by your boyfriend to go and get some chips after the drinking session

5/ Being tempted by your friend to ask your chips with "lovely" garlic sauce

6/ Eat on the bus your portion of chips while people look at you

7/ Being told that your food stinks

8/Put your portion of chips in your bag

9/Pass out before putting the alarm clock on OR Doing something weird with the alarm clock

10/Waking up very close to a heart atack when realising that the alarm clock hasn't rung and that it is time to leave the house

11/ Realise that it is ok and that your body clock (your inner clock? the clock within you?) has woken you up at the exact time that the (real) alarm clock should have rung (See number 9)

12/Not knowing what to wear to your first Independent School Librarians Association meeting

13/ Getting dressed with adecuate clothes but not in adecuate time (say 15 minutes more than you should have)

14/ Nearly freeze to death while waiting for the buses

15/ Being nearly run down by a moped

16/ Being cursed and sworn by a moped driver

17/ Being close to tears because of number 15 and 16

18/ Being 15 minutes late to work

19/ Feeling very grateful to your boss when he tells you to go for a coffee and relax until you recuparate from number 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17 and 18.

20/ Blogging this at work.

Believe it or not

2006-02-25T11:04:00.000+01:00

I did not find any Starbucks on my way here.

This was pronounced by my collegue. She actally said it out loud. It's been weeks from that an I am still trying to digest it.
They are everywhere, like plague, serving their cofee and their logo.
And even though I hate Starbucks, sometimes I do drink Starbucks coffee.
At first I told myself that it was not too bad, since at least they serve fair trade coffee. Which is more that we can say abouy any of the other companies operating n London.
Ok, they may pay crap to their employees, but everywhere it's the same thing: Costa Coffee, Cafe Nero... They are even worse!
And it is sooo difficult to find an independent coffee shop... "Vini, vidi, vinci" like Julius Caesar. Destroyed independent business, took over the place!
MacDonals, Topshop, Ikea, H&M, Boots, Burger King, Pret a Manger... endless examples of the same thing.
What do I do when I need a coffee? I need advice in this matter.

What did Saint Valentine do to become the saint of the lovers, by the way?

2006-02-17T22:28:00.000+01:00

This is a bit of a late post, but hey! Mejor tarde que nunca!

"There are varying opinions as to the origin of Valentine's Day. Some experts state that it originated from St. Valentine, a Roman who was martyred for refusing to give up Christianity. He died on February 14, 269 A.D., the same day that had been devoted to love lotteries. Legend also says that St. Valentine left a farewell note for the jailer's daughter, who had become his friend, and signed it "From Your Valentine". Other aspects of the story say that Saint Valentine served as a priest at the temple during the reign of Emperor Claudius. Claudius then hadValentine jailed for defying him. In 496 A.D. PopeGelasius set aside February 14 to honour St. Valentine."
From a cheesy website

The 14th of February is such an annoying day, there's no way to feel comfortable with it. Specially being a woman. Do guys have these problems?
Examples:

If you are single and would like to be in a couple, because people keep reminding you. (Yeah, I know, he will arrive in his white horse, yeah. No, will not look in stinky bars anymore, no. I was ok this morning but now...Ok, will get some chocolate tonight, thanks for your advice, bitch!)
If you are single and do not want a couple, because you will be bored to death with all the love stories and with people picking on you for being so unromantic. (I hate that bitch! Always making me feel like a cheesy woman. Only 'cos I am romatic! What she needs is somebody that shakes her and she'll see. We ALL need somebody! Maybe she's a lesbian?!)
If you are in an unhappy couple because.. Well, it will be even worse than day-to-day stuff. (Will he give me a flower, will he not? Should I get a card, should I not? And If he does and I don't? What does that mean? Are we totally over?)
If you are in a happy couple who do not believe in celebrating the V day, because you feel like you have to explain yourself a thousand times. (No, not going out with my boyfriend tonight. No, really, my relationship is going fine. No, don't hate the day, I just don't really care. )
If you've just broken up, because you will be very unhappy thinking where he's now and what did you do to ruin your relationship (doesn't matter that he was cheating on you, or not caring at all or he was just an arse. You will most probably think that is your fault)

And there are many more options, but I am getting very uncomfortable only thinking about it... And do not worry, everybody, there is still a full year for it arrive again!

Weetzie bat

2006-02-17T20:42:00.000+01:00

To overcome the experience and because it is one of the books I needed to read for next week session of my "Alternative Narratives" module, I read all the way the fantastic short novel "Weetzie bat" by Francesca Lia Block.

Cute, strange and full of clean niceness.

Here's an extract:

"You're my best friend in the whole world," Dirk said to Weetzie one night. They were sitting in Jerry drinking Club coladas with Slinkster Dog curled up between them.

"You're my best friend in the whole world," Weetzie said to Dirk. Slinkster Dog's stomach gurgled with pleasure. He was very happy, because Weetzie was so happy now and her new friend Dirk let him ride in Jerry as long as he didn't pee, and they gave him pizza pie for dinner instead of that weird meat that Weetzie's mom, Brandy-Lynn, tried to dish out when he was left at home.

One night, Weetzie and Dirk and Slinkster Dog were driving down Sunset in Jerry on their way to the Odyssey. Weetzie was leaning out the window holding Rubber Chicken by his long, red toe.

The breeze was filling Rubber Chicken so that he blew up like a fat, pocked balloon. At the stoplight, a long, black limo pulled up next to Jerry. The driver leaned out and looked at Rubber Chicken.

"That is one bald-looking chicken!" The driver threw something into the car and it landed on Weetzie's lap. She screamed.

"What is it?" Dirk exclaimed. A hairy, black thing was perched on Weetzie's knees.

"It's a hairpiece for that bald eagle you've got there. Belonged to Burt Reynolds," the driver said, and he drove off.

Weetzie put the toupee on Rubber Chicken. Really, it looked quite nice. It made Rubber Chicken look just like the lead singer of a heavy-metal band.

Dirk and Weetzie wondered how they could have let him go bald for so long.

Library expedition

2006-02-17T19:51:00.000+01:00

If there is something that annoys me is rude people. We all know them, they are everywhere: in bars and restaurants, in the off-license round the corner... I hate when people decide that they are not up for answering questions at the mo.

Sometimes they think that we work with them, that we know the price of every latte (all the three sizes, plus supplements of syrup and two thirds of the normal amount of vegan milk!) Like that time in when I went for some coffee and cake to the local Starbucks. The guy was sooo rude that nearly made me cry.

Today I went to join the local library. I took my passport, because rude people do not quite understand that a national ID is valid within the EU. I took my bank statement as a proof of address, my bag to load with the books I need to read for next week and a big deal of hurry in my veins. I was polite, smile and pacient. What for, I wonder. Just to nearly get ignored when asking which second proof of address they may accept. Because, let me say that "something with your name and address on it" is not a valid answer. I can write it down for you, cursive. Maybe type it. Maybe I can dictate it to you and you will see it printed. A letter from my employer? (I said) Saying what? (tall rude guy said without looking at me) I don't know, you bloody tell me!!! (that was me)
So I had to be rude for them (there was also a less tall guy involved) to answer the questions. I didn't get a look though.

Then I called another library, in the same borough, with nice and helpful people, which helped me efficiently and swiftly answered my questions. The answer was "Welcome to Islington libraries, here you have a leaflet with the information you need. Let me know if you have any doubts. Bye"

Is it really so difficult being half nice?

Does it not take so much more effort to be grumpy than neutral?

Do they not feel -at least- guilty when they treat people badly?

Why do people feel free to treat you badly?

Who on earth educated those people that treat you like shit for free?

What do they have on their heads?

Why does it affect me SO much?

Love is (dropped) in the streets...

2006-02-14T12:18:00.000+01:00

London...

2006-02-10T11:08:00.000+01:00

I haven't been a very prolific writer lately but my life in London just got hectic! Back to cooking in a rush, to plan well in advance when are you seeing your friends, to go to work with the gym bag (which, let me tell you, it is an adventure at 8:00 am!), to not have time to spend quality time with Johan...

He's a t the moment looking for work, so as an unemployed person (we all understand that!) he has his ups and downs... I am sure that soon he's get something (if not optimal, at least to have some income) and things will get better.

I have realised that I have changed. Until not too long ago, I was absolutely unable to disconnect from my personal life at work, always worrying and thinking... Now, however, as soon as I leave the house, I can put the problems behind. The stress of Johan's jobhunting, our lack of furniture, our very noisy bed (not good!!), the living with other people and the lack of space. We have a big room, but unfortunately, it is only one, so we need to go to sleep at the same time, wake up together (or not switching ant light on when I get dressed in the mornings etc). Also, even though I really like the area we live in, we are in a main road, so it's very noisy! Specially the double deckers, hellish devices!!
Johan has applied for two good jobs in Kew gardens so, if he gets one of them, we may be moving to south London.

In the meantime, I go on hoping that this stress will be over soon, that we will be able to get used to our new routines and that I will not feel guilty anymore for dragging the person I love somewhere he does not like... My only weapon for this are to keep positive and realise that, in fact, this is only a transition time, that I am here for a purpose.

My purpose is to do my Masters, of course. Yesterday it was my first day, but I will tell a bit more about it in the next post.

Justice?

2006-02-03T19:08:00.000+01:00

Last week, at seven in the morning, before going to work, my flatmate's mum told me that her daughter was nearly murdered a year ago.
She was raped by two men, one of them (at least) had done it before, and he also had killed his wife by stabbing her 20 times.
After all this time enduring all the pain that a woman may ever feel, physically and emotionally, the trial has taken place during this week.
She has been cross-examined for two solid days, she has seen pictures, broken down and faced those two bastards who took away her trust in people.
They(mother and daughter) have just arrived home. One of them has been left out.
He's out tonight.
They did not have to be cross examined, they contradicted themselves in paper and threatened to kill her if they get out.
She needs now to do it all over again, go on Monday and listen to the verdict for the other man. The jury was composed of 10 people and seven of them said guilty. This bastard justice needs an 8 to 10 to consider someone guilty.
How can now anyone trust, how can I, as a woman, trust that if anybody does to me something as horrible as those motherfuckers did to her, I will be trusted as a victim, not as a whore?
And how can she now, live her life knowing that she is in danger?

Update: It's the day after now and I feel a bit more calmed down about the whole thing, even though really disgusted and scared. They say that they may have to give her police protection wherever she goes... How is it possible that is her who has to be protected and those bastards are not jailed? Ironic. Utterly wrong.

The child that books built

2006-02-01T22:09:00.000+01:00

When told someone I meant to write about the dangers of childhood reading, "Good grief, yes", she snapped with instant sarcasm, "before you know it they'll be thinking for themselves". And memory confirms it, for many of those who were eager readers as children remain eager-reading adults. We can remember readings that acted like transformations. There were times when a particular book, like a seed crystal, dropped into our minds when they were exactly ready for it, like supersaturated solution, and suddenly we changed. Suddenly a thousand crystal of perception of our own formed, the original insight of the story ordering whole arrays of discoveries inside us, into winking accuracy of us sounds like the footing for an addiction. Can you be addicted to discovery? If you were, would it be a problem?

From The Child that books built by Francis Spufford

Mine, mine!!

2006-01-26T18:23:00.000+01:00

Can't scape now...
Learning Swedish is the thing to do. Not only because Johan is Swedish and because it would be nice of me to learn his language. Not either for love, respect, or because may be one day we will have kids and he will want to speak in his mother tongue to them. The main reason is because I want to understand Johan's blog!!!!

Finally Johan has arrived to London. We have cuddled, talked, argued, laughed, foodshopped, got drunk, downloaded Skype, eaten fajitas... I can't get enough!

Today:

2006-01-20T18:56:00.000+01:00

Today:

I have a neckache, which is a mean thing to have. I blame the horrible new bed. Well, it's new for me, but not for (I guess) a few other people before me.
My flatemate told me off yesterday for not wiping the crumbles off the kitchen surface in the morning. On my defense I have to say that that happened at 7:00 in the morning.
I've decided to defer my essay submission. After all the stress of the last few weeks, my 3500 word essay turned up to be... crap. So I took a breath after my tutor offered the possibly of working on it together with her in the next few weeks. My problem is not the lack of ideas though. I just do not know how to write an essay. Many rules that I never studied. Now I have a couple of books and great colleagues that offered to help me. I may join one of the pupil's seminars!
I kept seeing people that looked like other people. A girl like Hale Berry, another like Liza Minelli (watched Cabaret last night and all the way through I tried to realise who she looks like. The answer is not this girl I saw on the bus), a black woman that looked like my mum. Oh, and a few guys that looked like The Strokes, but blonder.
I went to the supermarket and had fun looking at other people's trolleys. The singleton that buys cheerios, milk and ready-made meals. The family on benefits that gets 2 full trolleys for Â£30. The smart lady that is preparing a dinner party. The guys that looked like The Strokes who had gyn, tonic and some crips. The tree hugher that only bought organic and enviromental friendly items and whose bill was extremely high. This last one was me.

So now, to celebrate this fantastic day, I am going to drink a glass of (organic, of course!) red and wait for myfriendd Akemi to come for dinner. Lovely start of a weekend.

To kill a mockingbird... or a duck.

2006-01-17T20:56:00.000+01:00

When I said yesterday that it was not the first time I would be responible for an animal's death, I wasn't joking. And I didn't mean like to eat, or to wear, but to the actual act of killing. Although sometimes they died by themselves. But this didn't happen very often.

The story started when I was about... who knows (but I was really young), and my parents came to pick me up to the little village where I was spending the Summer holidays with my grandparents. For me not to be sad for leaving them (and the hens, and fields and the neighbours who used to give me bread with a bit of wine) my parents kept telling me that when we arrived home, I would have a big, massive, surprise.
We got home, and I run around the house, but I couldn't see anything until my mother pointed a big ceramic bowl. So I went, looked inside and... nothing: there was nothing at all in there!
The hamster had scaped. (There was nothing on top of the bowl, what on earth did they expect!It was probably really boring in there...)
My mum, after hearing noises every night, discovered the little animal inside a mattress. He had eaten a massive piece.
That was my first hamster and I do not remember how he died, but probably indigestion had something to do with it.

The second hamster was actually Two (!!) hamsters, brown and white, male and female (can't remember which was which, though) that were madly in love with eachother. So much that when one escaped and jumped through the window (an eight floor), the other decided to follow the day after. We could only find one. And it was very flat.

Then I had "Caspita" or "Little dandruff". This one was well ugly! My friend Monica gave it to me as a present because it was so ugly that she didn't want it. She was the one that cried because the mother hamster was eating her own children for lack of space (hypocrite bitch!).
This one died of sunstroke. Well, he was actually more burnt to a crisp...

Then my neighbour's black duck came. His name was Lucas (Spanish for Daffy Duck). His name was Lucas, but not for a very long time. Because when I took care of the him one evening, I decided to give him a bath.
I am not like on tv when the little girl puts the fish into a bubble bath (I am quite surprised I didn't though). I was very realistic: I just put the water on and left it running until it was a hand high or so. And THEN placed the duck into the bathtub for him to swim.
He's drinking, he's drinking! They shouted (my little brother and friend shouted)

I can see it, I can see it! I replied.
What I couldn't see was that that Lucas the duck was drinking a bit to much. So much that he was actually drowning.
Moral: Ducks don't swim on instinct.

But I was not so bad. One of my friends sat on her duck. Man, that was a flat duck.
Another one (one of my friends, not of the ducks), knowing that you should not prolong an animal suffering, made use of a very unusual euthanasia concept: she threw hers (her duck, not her friend), which had a broken wing- through the window. It was an eight floor as well (why do I remember that, I wonder) but the animal survived until she arrived to see him take the last breath.

And that is the end of the story. I may, sometime, write a second chapter... (he he he)

My shower hates me

2006-01-16T19:05:00.000+01:00

The worst thing about my new home is that is only has one bathroom. So, it happens very often that is is busy when you want to go. They generally they do not take too long though, so that is ok. The other bad thing is that, there's somebody around totally obsessed with switching the heating off. And whe you switch the heating off, there is no hot water. And when there is no hot water and every time you need to wait for two hours for the tank to be full, Ana's day runs around a very expected and longer shower. I have tried four times today and have not succeed!

And yes, I do have more important things to worry about, like my essay, which is due next Monday and that it is still a notverywellresolvedatall draft. But I can only think about me urgently needing a scrub and have decided to bore you with it. And because it is my blog and I cry if I want to.

(I never thought I would be jealous of a rubber duck,
that is why I am drawning him. And beware,
it is not the first time...)

New Job

2006-01-13T21:47:00.000+01:00

It really seems a great place to work, and I am sooo glad I am permanently working in this school... I hope I will say the same thing in a few months-time! We'll see...

Three days a week, to be chosen by me (which leaves me time to study)

A salary according to a Library Assistant position (could do with a Assistant Librarian one, but hey! No bad feelings!)*

A possibility to learn about what education is for real (will be closely working with teacher and pupils)

An easy-going environment with smiles and supportive people

An interesting and rewarding but not extremely challenging job (I have got enough experience to know how things work more or less, so I can focus my energies in studying)

Work with people that care about how much paper it is wasted

A nice boss that wants me to get involved in what we do

Nice, warm and beautiful space to work in

Long long holidays (long Christmas, long Easter, Half-terms and two month summer)

And last but no least... No dress code!!!!

* yes, they are different positions with different responsibilities.

Just a beautiful thing

2006-01-13T21:04:00.000+01:00

Eres chica de muchas canciones, pero todas son tristes...

I have found this jewel of a sentence I do not intend to loose it. It proably belongs to a song, poem, book or film, but since I do not know, I enjoy it as it is, a beautiful description.

You are girl of many songs, but they all are sad...

Picture from Happiness is a Sad Song (Le bonheur c'est une chanson triste)

Days in between.

2006-01-09T10:24:00.000+01:00

Look for flats, go out, start new work and write and essay... that's what I am doing, trying to have normal life but without having a home to call my own to cook, study and rest. Quite stressing, you know?
My friends make me feel very welcome (bless you all! he he) but I still can't wait to be in my own place, with everything sorted...

Oh, just found this picture of me with a hat.

Requiem for a dream

2006-01-04T21:54:00.000+01:00

When Johan and me found this flat trough a friend of his we couldn't believe it. It sounded amazing and the conditions were optimal, a 200 square meters flat in central London, rented for life by a pensioner who lived most of the time in Copenhagen. She wanted to sublet it to some responsible people who would allow her to keep a room for whenever she was coming to London to visit one of her daughters, no deposit, good price... Too good to be true!

It turned out that of the two rooms that we were promised, we could only have one, which more than a room was a shoebox. The house was full of crap (as I said before) and we would never have enough space for our stuff, unless she would clear everything out from the rest of the house... books, clothes, decoration...

On top of that this woman lived was staying there all the time and did not want us to bring our friends over or at least not inviting visiting friends. Oh, the flat is by no means 200 sq meters.

So we decided to move and try to look for another flat for ourselves. Obviously, the studios and one bedroom flats were either very far away from the centre of extremely expensive, so we thought that as long as we had nice flatmates, sharing a house would not be such a bad option. And so we found a big bedroom in a shared flat in Islington, in a clean area with nice restaurants and cafés. We will live with lovely quiet people that gave us the impression of having a similar lifestyle to us. There is a Chinese couple who are called Gary and Rosa (of course those are translations of their Chinese names but those -specially hers- are unpronounceable) and they are the ones renting the flat on the first place. There is an English actor called Fraiser and a English literature student named

Laura (this will come helpful to proofread my essays, jipp

ie!!). It looks like a really nice place to be, we will learn how to cook proper chinese food, have central heating (a blessing from God!) and be able to live not stressing too much a bout money, because the rent is very reasonable.

However, the aim of this post was not to tell you all this but rather reflect a bit in what Johan and me have been living during these very expensive days that we've been staying at Caterina's, because that is the old pensioner's name.

The other day, while we were having breakfast, we switched off the tv. Until there nothing wrong, right? After a while, Caterina came complaining that the tv was not working. We obviously thought that she had tried to switch it on again. She checked wires and plugs, moved all the crap behind the tv and could not find anything wrong. So she pressed a button, switched it on again (because that's why remote controls are for) and came downstairs where I was checking flats on the Internet as red a tomato and shaking in rage. Needless to say that we have violated one of the most important rules in the house: the tv should always be on. She cursed, shouted and throw stuff about. Why could we have done something like that! Tv doe not bother anybody! If we are speaking I switch the volume off! I can read lips! I don't need the sound! How an image could bother us! Who the fuck we thought we were to switch the Tv off without telling her! I read lips! I have been trained for that! What the fuck was going with the tv! I read lips! Get used to the souting and cursing because I am half Mediterranean! (Johan said that I am full Mediterranean and he's never seen me acting like her) Everything started as soon as we arrived! This is not the first time, you did it also the other day! Everybody likes tv! I read lips! Very few people in the world can read lips! And incredibly enough it went on and on... Until she cried: I have nothing to do, watching Tv is my only thing! I only see my family sometimes!

And I felt awful, like I have stolen somebody's child, like I , only with pressing a tiny button, have killed the reason for her to live.

I have never seen Requiem for a dream, but Johan told me that is is the story of a young junkie and his mum, who is also a junkie, only that she is not addicted to drugs, but to TV.

New Year

2005-12-31T15:42:00.000+01:00

New Year, new habits.
New Year, new house.
Happy new year to you all!
Happy new flat haunt for us!!

Hole, sweet hole

2005-12-30T17:42:00.000+01:00

So I am in London, anxiously waiting for my viking to arrive in a couple of hours.
Yesterday night I took the very delayed flight from Bilbao to Stansted, a coach and the walked home. That was quite nice... the I arrived "home". The house I have never seen before but that Johan and me decided to take without previous viewing because of the dimensions, location and price... It turns out that it is not such a great house, it is old and hasn't been taken care for. It is a house full of crap. So much crap. I have never seen so many useless things in my whole life! Still central, thought, and that I really like. The other disadvantage is that the landlady, who is a retired linguist (speaks 15 languages and used to work as an interpreter for Scotland Yard) and was supposed to be living between Copenhagen and London, turned out being based in this house, which means that we will have a 65 year old flatmate... And this is not what we wanted. And I have the feeling that (not without reason since this is her home -even though we did not know this-) she is going to put trouble for people to come and visit us. And if I live somewhere, I need to feel at home.

I can not wait for Johan to arrive and so we can speak about everything. But I am not sure if I want to live here. I feel kind of cheated, to be honest. Any suggestions (and London flat offers, I guess) welcome.

Money guilt

2005-12-29T11:16:00.000+01:00

Oh my! How guilty I feel for spending all my savings in Sweden and not having anything to start off in London... my sweet sweet parents have been scrapping here and there and get me some money to live with the first month while I get my first salary in the school.

They are the greatest parents ever, they do this even when they have had me living at their expense for two weeks during Christmas... But still, having food at home and paying my rent feels like totally different things, of very different importance.

Gracias Mami Teresa y Papi Ignacio!!!

Olentzero

2005-12-23T11:26:00.000+01:00

I am not sure how many people are they reading my blog (if any at all) but anyway, I want t wish everybody Merry Christmas, Feliz Navidad and God Jul!!!

I have never liked Christmas very much, to be honest. Lots of unnecesary foos and not too much fun... of course, I do like the presents part, but nowadays it is not as exciting as it used to be since I generally know what I am going to get. On top of that this year, I am sooo poor (that is what happens when you live on your savings for five months) that I can not afford to buy anything; so that excitement is gone too. Well, I guess it is good for not consuming, but it still is a bit sad. I have come up with an idea though: I am going to give my family one voucher each for a Central London Hotel (meaning our new house, of course) for coming to visit whenever they want. It is true that they would have come anyway, but I have no better ideas!

Since now I have been in Bilbao for more than a week (and I haven't done this since I left home at 18) I feel like my basque spirit is kicking my stomach. Don't misanderstand me, not in a nationalistic way (after all my dad id from Burgos and my mum form Murcia) but I am enjoying re-discovering the streets of my city, going to the old library where I used to study, living with my parents and brother normal life... And of course this "basqueness" is a smalll part of being here. That is why I am going to tell you the story of Olentzero, the man that brings presents to the children of the Basque Country.

~ Olentzero ~

Everything that has a name exists

(a secularized English version of the book

Olentzero: Izena duan guztia omen da,

with text and pictures by

Angel Benito Gastañaga)

In the forest, there are many different kinds of creatures that people can’t see.. They are all part of nature, and people have written many stories and fables about them.

When we go out in the mountains and the valleys, from a wonderful corner of the imagination they keep us company and take care of us.

Here is the story of one of those beings, the story of Olentzero, a humble man who with his love comes into the heart of all creatures, real and imaginary.

Once upon a time, many many years ago, in the deep forests of the Basque Country, there lived a very beautiful fairy. Her hair was yellow like the sun and her eyes were very bright. (Ana's note: this fairy is actually a Lamia, a creature with woman's body and duck's feet)

Like all fairies, she looked after the people and she was always accompanied by some little and funny creatures, like goblins, called Prakagorri, or "red-pants," who helped her with her work.

One day, when she was traveling through the mountains, she stopped to brush her hair next to a fountain. Suddenly, the Prakagorris noticed that something was moving among some ferns.

The fairy kept brushing and brushing her curly hair and didn’t notice anything until Prakagorris’ shouts caught her attention.

"It's a human baby," said the oldest of the goblins.

"Why did they leave it here?" said all the Prakagorris at once.

"I don’t know," said the fairy, "it is hard to understand how humans can be so heartless sometimes."

"From now on," said the fairy to the baby, "your name will be Olentzero, for it is wonderful thing to have found you. And I hereby give you the gifts of Strength, Courage and Love, for as long as you live."

Then the fairy picked up the baby and took him to an old house at the edge of the forest where there lived a man and a woman who had no children.

"They will be very, very happy to receive this child and they will take good care of it, I know" said the fairy, and she left the boy there in front of the door for them.

Very early in the morning, when the sun was just starting to come out, the man came out of the house to go milk the cows. He was very surprised to see the baby, and he called to his wife: "Love, come quickly! Come and see what I’ve found!"

Just as the fairy had predicted, the man and the woman were very, very happy to find this child. "How could we be so lucky!", said the woman. And immediately they covered the boy with a warm blanket and gave him some food, and they took him as their son.

And that is how Olentzero came to grow up in those wonderful mountains, until he became a strong, healthy and lovable man. His parents were very happy and Olentzero was not at all worried about the strange way in which his parents had come to find him.

Olentzero worked every day from morning till night, making coal and helping his aging father.

After many years the old couple who had been Olentzero’s loving parents finally died and Olentzero was left all alone in the house in the forest.

The years came and went and his face began to wrinkle and his hair began to turn white.

Living alone made him sad and he realized that what he needed to do was to help other people who needed his help.

He remembered that in the town there was a house where there lived some children who had no parents. They lived on whatever the people in the town gave them, and he realized that these children were very lonely, just like him, and that he could do things for them to make them happy.

Olentzero was very clever and very good at making things with his hands, so he made some toys out of wood for those children: little toys and dolls, which he would take to the children when he went to town to sell his coal.

When he finished the dolls and other toys, he put them in a big bag, put the bag on his donkey, and left for the town. He felt very happy inside that day, and his eyes were shining very brightly.

It took him a whole morning of walking through the mountains to get to the town, but he was very happy. He smiled as if in a dream, for he was going to give to the children the toys that he had made.

The little children in the village were very happy when they got their presents, and Olentzero spent the whole afternoon playing with them and telling them stories that he had learned from his father when he was little. The boys and girls loved Olentzero very much and after that day they didn’t feel as lonely as before. Olentzero became very well known in that town. Whenever he approached, he would quickly be surrounded by children.

This went on for many beautiful and happy years, but one day there was a terrible storm in the town and the mountains around it which destroyed many things. The cold, strong winds and the sound of thunder left the people very scared and upset, especially the children.

One day, when Olentzero was coming to town, he saw some lightning hitting a house.

He quickly ran to the house and he saw some children at one of the windows, very scared, screaming and calling for help.

Without hesitating he went into the house, which was in flames, covered the children with a blanket to protect them from the fire, and carried them out of the house through a window in the first floor.

But while he was trying to get out himself, a big old wooden beam from the ceiling fell on top of him. Olentzero fell down in great pain, and his strong and beautiful heart stopped.

The people in the town cried when they saw the house in flames, and what had happened, and realized that there was nothing they could do.

But right then they were all surprised by a bright light shining from inside the burning house. Nobody could see what was happening inside. But inside the house, the fairy who had found Olentzero in the mountains, when he was a baby so many years ago, appeared next to Olentzero and began calling his name in her sweet voice: "Olentzero! Olentzero!"

She said: "Olentzero, you have been a good man, faithful and kind hearted. You have spent your life doing things for others, and you have even given your own life to save others. So I do not want you to die. I want you to live forever. From now on you will make toys and other presents for children who do not have parents in this town and everywhere in the Basque Country."

"And we will help you!" called out all the Prakagorri, flying around Olentzero.

And that is how it came to pass that, that in the middle of every winter, at the end of every year, Olentzero goes to all the towns of Basque Country delivering toys and presents to children who don’t have parents and grandparents to give them presents. The children in all the towns celebrate the coming of the Olentzero by singing songs and spreading his message of love, strength and courage.

Some people don’t believe that Olentzero really exists. But in Basque there is an old saying: that everything that has a name exists, if we believe it does.

Olentzero: An English version by Jon Aske

The funkiest mum ever!

2005-12-22T09:14:00.000+01:00

My friend Aitana and me used to go to the same school. She changed when we were 14 and started Secondary School in Castro Urdiales, which is not far from Bilbao but in a nother region, so they don't have Basque as a compulsory language. This was exactly what Aitana wanted. There she found many things, specially party and friends.

One of the friends (best one, I guess) was Iris. I heard everything about her for like three years, and she heard all about me. When we finally met, we realised that we were both going to University in the same city, so we decided to live together. First it was the same Residence, then we were intimate neighbours and finally, on the third year, exclusive flatmates in the very centre of town.

We went out a lot, live many (sometimes weird) stories and she taught me many things, music, comics, sense of humour... She is probably the girl that knows the most about comics, cinema and Star Wars. And she used to wear the shortest skirts, so she was a very popular in freakyland. And outside it, because she's got an amazing charisma. She's smart too!

Anyway, I have not seen her for quite her while (the picture is from the last time we were together, about a year and a half ago) sinceI am in London and she's in Madrid, but we finally spoke yesterday on the phone for about an hour. She's going to have a baby and is very happy! I am glad fo her (and for her eternal on and off boyfriend Alex) and can not wait to see her with all the belly... She says that the best part of being pregnant is that it takes the hangovers away. Great philosophy, isn't it?

I was born standing

2005-12-19T13:45:00.000+01:00

This is a Spanish saying that means that I am very lucky, or that everything that I do turns out all right. This is also, what my mum said to me when I told her that, (only) two hours after the phone interview I had this morning, I got a job offer. Well, it is still not the official offer, but I will be getting that one shortly.

I will be working as a part-time librarian in a international school that looks great and I will still have time to study! Money is not bad and the work is interesting.

Oh! Did I mention that the school is 10 minutes walk from where I will live from January?

(By the way, this post needs a couple of comments, doesn't it? ....)

Changing (a bit) towards more ethical habits

2005-12-19T12:10:00.000+01:00

This weekend I've been to San Sebastian and realized the amazing capability that Spanish people (and specially the Canovas family) have for not allowing anybody else to speak. We have been discussing many things: politics, diet options (I had to take a few jokes a out my decision to try not to eat meat, of course), poverty and lifestyle choices.

It never stops amazing me how people always find excuses for everything... At one point I tried to explain that I am trying to live my life the most ethically I can. This does not mean that I will become a self-sufficient farmer living in the middle of nowhere, not watching TV at all and becoming a Buddhist, but rather I have realised that the way we live, this way of ultimate consumption is not how I want to live my life. What does this mean?

This means that I am willing to think more about what I buy and what I eat.

This means that I am trying to buy more fair-trade clothes, and not buying as many just for the fact that they are cheap. (And yes, there are cool options: Howies, People tree, No Sweat shoes, American Apparel...)

This means that I am buying organic foods because they are better for you, many taste much better and the people that produce them are healthier (no pesticides, of course)

This means that every time I can I will give some money and my support to some NGO that are doing a good job.

This means that next time that I have a house I will not rush to Ikea and get everything I need at once but rather buy things little by little and get what I really want.

Is it such a terrible lifestyle choice?

Yesterday I heard some of the silliest arguments for not doing things this way.

Many NGO are deceiving you: who ensures that the fair-trade logo is real? (Never heard of Independent Associations? Also, you are sure who the money goes to if you buy Nestle, aren't you?)

In China, before the sweat-shops, they were all starving: we should buy what they produce to feed them (I think this means that we should we keep exploiting them)

How can I manage to buy locally if everything is so expensive? (How about not buying everything but only a few things?)

I think that these are all excuses and what really happens is that people is not aware of the power that a consumer has:

What is keeping all those independent bakeries running? Us, because we buy our daily bread from them. Who is making all those multinational companies expand? I am, because you get your stuff from them. And we demand lower and lower prices, which of course is understandable, but we do not realise that by doing that (and by buying the cheapest) we are making a contribution to this system. And this system is crap.

And even if you are not willing to change your lifestyle, you can make a difference just by adding your name and sending a few mails. Or at least you can try. Make poverty history, Make trade fair, Pobreza cero, GCAP...

Sólo si cumples estas doce condiciones serás de Bilbao

2005-12-15T17:07:00.000+01:00

Tengo aquí las principales características de los de Bilbao, por si

alguien todavía no es del todo consciente de la enorme importancia que tiene ser de Bilbao.

Recuerda que sólo serás de Bilbao si cumples estas características:

1. Aunque hayas nacido en otra parte, afirmas que eres de Bilbao, y te justificas diciendo: LOS DE BILBAO NACEMOS DONDE NOS DA LA PUTA GANA.

2. Si cuando estudiabas en el colegio, cada vez que te preguntaban por el Océano Atlántico respondías: "Océano situado entre África, Europa y América, y que desemboca en el Nervión".

3. Si crees que la principal diferencia entre Dios y un bilbaíno es: que Dios está en todas partes y un bilbaíno ya ha estado.

4. Si piensas que la máxima prueba de humildad de Jesucristo fue nacer en Belén pudiendo haber nacido en Bilbao.

5. Si piensas que la única virtud que les falta a los bilbaínos para ser perfectos es la modestia.

6. Si cuando al salir de un bar un amigo te dice: "Oye, Patxi, se nos ha olvidado decirle al camarero que somos de Bilbao", tú le respondes: "Déjale, que se joda".

7. Si cuando te tocaron 100 millones en la lotería y te daban la
enhorabuena respondías: "Bah, lo que jugaba...".

8. Si todos los planteamientos matemáticos te salen infinito y crees que debería salir un número más grande.

9. Si cuando acudes con tus amigos para compraros un coche para cada uno, a la hora de pagar exclamas: "¡Quietos, que esta ronda es mía!"

10. Si tu primer día de colegio tu padre te dijo: "Mira, hijo, lo único que tienes que saber es que no debes preguntar a nadie de dónde es. Si es de Bilbao, ya te lo dirá él, y si no, no debes hacerle pasar vergüenza".

11. Si cuando invitas a tus amigos a cenar y te cobran mil euros le preguntas al camarero: "Ahí va la ostia, ¿pero qué pasa, que lo de estos no me lo cobras o qué?"

12. Si cuando trabajabas en una librería y entró un bilbaíno pidiendo un mapamundi de Bilbao, tú le preguntaste: "¿De la margen izquierda o de la margen derecha?"

Scaling in London

2005-12-14T10:16:00.000+01:00

I am a hero. Sorry if it sounds pretentious, but I am. In 24 hours I managed to take my bike into pieces, take it to the bike shop, put it into a box, travel with it and my 34 kg suitcase from Malmo to Copenhagen airport, then to London Stansted, Liverpool Street station and the take two buses (good old red buses that didn't want my bike, by the way! Just is case is a bomb, I guess) and finally arrive to my friends place!

Of course I couldn't have done all this without a little help from my friends: Johan, Alberto, £1trolleys, anonymous train helpers and Akemi. Thank you all!!!

Tonight I am leaving for Spain... more updates from there!

On having my last falafel...

2005-12-11T18:25:00.000+01:00

A friend said once that Sweden is the most traditional lace in the world. The whole country somehow gets united a celebrates the same way, with the same food: herring and new potatoes for midsummer, julmust for Christmas, cinnamon and ginger cookies for Lucia dagen and crayfish... For crayfish parties!

But the most appreciated Swedish dish is falafel. Or so (some) foreign people think. The first week I was in Malmo I met up with a guy that was in my Swedish class in London. He was taking an intensive course during the summer in Lund University and said that most of the people in his class thought that Falafel was the best Swedish dish, not meatballs, not salmon, not potato buns with lingon jam... but falafel.

It is true that if even if the affirmation was a bit ignorant, we should not take away credit for the quality of such a "delicacy".

There is a kind of price competition between shops here. You find them everywhere; they prepare the freshest and nicest home-made falafel in the world. You can have it with feta cheese, with olive salad, hummus or classic. You can get chilli sauce or garlic... It is delicious and extremely cheap: 15 kr (£1) for a simple one and only 5 kr more with extras. It is great when you get hungry after a few beers.

Today, as an act of goodbye (and because we have nothing else in the fridge) I had one...

Why you should fall to your knees and worship a librarian

2005-12-07T09:58:00.000+01:00

I have been blogging around for a bit and discovered quite a few funny sites about my profession (mainly American). Here's the main entry from Librarian Avengers

Why you should fall to your knees and worship a librarian

Ok, sure. We've all got our little preconceived notions about who librarians are and what they do. Many people think of librarians as diminutive civil servants, scuttling about "Sssh-ing" people and stamping things. Well, think again buster.

Librarians have degrees. They go to graduate school for Information Science and become masters of data systems and human/computer interaction. Librarians can catalog anything from an onion to a dogÂs ear. They could catalog you.

Librarians wield unfathomable power. With a flip of the wrist they can hide your dissertation behind piles of old Field and Stream magazines. They can find data for your term paper that you never knew existed. They may even point you toward new and appropriate subject headings.

People become librarians because they know too much. Their knowledge extends beyond mere categories. They cannot be confined to disciplines. Librarians are all-knowing and all-seeing. They bring order to chaos. They bring wisdom and culture to the masses. They preserve every aspect of human knowledge. Librarians rule. And they will kick the crap out of anyone who says otherwise.

It never gets any easier

2005-12-07T08:45:00.000+01:00

Less than a week away...
I am leaving next Tuesday!

I feel very stressed out about the moving, even though this time I count with Johan's help and he is the most effective mover I have ever met.

After a month of meeting him -and when we had only spent together about 4 days- I helped him moving from Sweden to Copenhagen. I was amazed how swift he was packing, collecting and cleaning stuff: in about two hours we finished it all. Well, ok, I was helping him, but during that time I only did the CDs and some books.

"I like this guy", I thought.
Pure Swedish effectiveness (and looks!).

After that time, we have moved (and his parents helping, bless!) already four times:

from London to Sweden (me)
from Copenhagen back to Sweden (him)
from one house to another in MalmÃ¶ (both)
now again... (both but one at a time)

I have moved a thousand times myself. Not only from country to country (I am determined of stop doing this, by the way) but also from house to house in the same city. And it never gets any easier.

Giving things to charity, throwing stuff away, filling boots with socks, emptying the refrigerator (this means that in this last week we are eating leftovers) andhauntingg empty boxes in the neighborhood supermarkets.
Giving plants away, recycling papers and cleaning the house.
This time I also have to find a box for my bike because I am taking it with me. The journey to London on my own: that's gonna be fun!

I hate how much energy this takes, both physical and mental... yesterday I even forgot to go to a friends' birthday party. Shame on me and on the moving!

If there is something I have learned from all my movings is thattherer is NO such a thing as traveling light.

Japan's Finest novelist

2005-12-04T15:23:00.000+01:00

"I'd like to ask you more about your ears, if I may, " I said.
"You want to ask whether or not my ears posses some special power?"
I nodded.
"That's something you'd have to check for yourself," she said.
"If I were to tell you anything, it might not be of any interest to you. Might even cramp your style."
I nodded once more.
"For you, I'll show my ears," she said, after finishing her espresso. "But I don't know if it will really be to your benefit. You might end up regretting it."
"How's that?"
"Your boredom might not be as hardcore as you think."
"That's a chance I'll have to take," I said.
She reached out across the table and put her hand on mine.
"One more thing: for some time being-say, the next few months- don't leave my side. Okay?"
"Sure."
With that, she pulled a black hairband out of her handbag. Holding it between her lips, she pulled her hair back with both hands, gave it one full twist, and swiftly tied it back.
"Well?"
I swallowed my breath and gazed at her, transfixed. My mouth went dry. From no part of me I could summon a voice. For an instant, the white plaster wall seemed to ripple. The voices of the other diners and the clinking of their dinnerware grew faint, then once again returned to normal. I heard the sound of waves, recalled the scent of long-forgotten evening. Yet all this was but a mere fragment of the sensations passing through me in those few hundredths of a second.
"Exquisite," I managed to squeeze out. "I can't believe you're the same human being."
"See what I mean?" she said.

Here's a an extract from the book I am reading at the moment: A Wild Sheep Case, by Japanese author Huraki Murakami. I have already read his best-seller Norwegian Wood , which made him somewhat a celebrity in Japan when it was published in 1987.
Very worth a read...

Freud for dummies

2005-12-02T15:30:00.000+01:00

I am currently studying a module called "Critical and Theoretical perspectives" for my MA. After finishing it I am supposed to be familiar with some of the most important trends in Literaty Criticism and be able to analise a text according to them: Marxism, Structuralism, Historicism, Feminism or Psychoanalism.

It is a game we have all (well, there always are exceptions) played before: trying to put ourselves in somebody else's shoes and defend their position. But this time instead of defending an ideology or an action, I am trying to see "everything" through that different point of view. Everything that I read has an ideology behind, the one of the author, but what I am learning to do is trying to see what that author didn't realise... Or something like that! I have often been surprised, I have to say.

The theoretical perspective that has drawn my attention the most is the Psychoanalysis. Not because I agree with it but because I have realised that, regardless what people think and criticise, this way of thinking is quite witty and has had a great deal of influence in us, in today's way of thinking and speaking. Oedipus complex, libido, defense mechanism, ... Any bell ringing?

Actually, Freud's "phallic symbols" had become a joke even in his own lifetime! He once said Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. He was a heavy cigar smoker, mind you, so he's best say that!

I am now extremely curious about psychology. I know that while the French are really into Freud and that they base their studies in him, Spanish barely mention him and think of him as rubbish, basing the Psychology studies in something called "conductism". What about other countries and tendencies? How would it change if I went to a psychologist in different countries?

The most unproductive day in history

2005-12-01T20:11:00.000+01:00

Everything started going wrong from the very moment that the alarm clock rang this morning. Johan decided that he didn't want to wake up and overslept for 45 minutes. I am not very difficult to convince so I did not complain when he presses the snooze a few times. Tiredness is contagious, he said. When we finally woke up it was 8 o'clock and he didn't have time for breakfast, which put him in bad mood.
I wondered; Is bad mood contagious as well?

After spending too long on long delayed emails and unnecesary stuff I left for the Library. I got there about 10:30 ready to start studying. I put my things on my favourite spot, which has a great view to the Turning Torso and started reading my book. Little by little the library started filling up and suddenly there were about a hundred people around me: teachers convention. I decided to go and get a coffee from the machine and wait for all of them to go.

Instead of getting the coffee though, I stoped by a computer and... well you know what happens when you are a bit of an Internet addict. In the meantime all that people had taken confortably their sits (one of them cheekyly took mine!) and I was stuck (unvoluntarily) with my dear shared computer, no books and no money for the coffee (beacuse, not surprisingly, I had left the coins in my bag).

Balh blah blah, a man gave a 20 minutes speach and all that finally people left. So I went, got my money and got my long desired vanilla capuccino... Only to spill it all over the chair and my trousers as soon as I got back.

The pain... Oh! The pain that I felt!

So I headed back home, burned , angry and with the feeling of loosing my morning. But I comforted myself thinking that in the evening I would watch a nice movie and eat popcorn and finish the chocolates that Johan brought me from Paris. Sounds like a nice plan, uh?

The day has been a disaster. I did not study, I did not watch the movie or anything nice (only a few hours of useless TV that have given me a headache) and my thight still really sour... I did eat the chocolates though. But instead of conforting me, it just made me feel fat and clumsy.

So going back the morning... Bad mood is not only contagious but it ruins your whole day!

Last update: I also forgot that we had laundry time!

Wanted: native teacher

2005-11-30T19:57:00.000+01:00

Language is a very common topic when you are a foreigner: how do you speak, how do you translate things etc, but specially the difference between languages. Mix up a bit of grammar, some sayings, fake friends, different accents, regionalisms and you've got the salad! (this is a German saying for mixing everything up, I've learnt it last weekend)

This topic has been repeated over and over during all the time I have been abroad and I have to say: it does not have an end! Everybody has something else to say about it (over and over). It has become a bit of a boring topic but of course it changes a lot depending on who you discuss it with.

During this time in Sweden I haven't managed to learn Swedish at all. I thought I would pick up something after taking classes in London (I actually did go to the classes) but, my children, going to classes is not enough... You need to do your homework! (And yes, my parents used to tell me this all the time...)

I feel really bad about it, four months here and I keep asking to the girl in the coffee bar: "Excuse me darling, may I speak to you in English?" It is so shameful, specially because they will answer to me in a flawless English and I will feel that I am in England instead of Sweden. Anyway, I was saying that I feel bad for not having made the effort to learn while I was here. I do want to learn at some point but I just do not have the right state of mind. And I don not have the money to pay for classes nor the time to study at home... Like I am not doing a Masters on distance (plus a course in the Swedish University)!! It is true though, that if I don't do it while living here, when am I going o do it?!!

Anyway... languages! In Hamburg I went to the house of some people that were drinking absinthe and smoking cigarettes. Same kind of people, same kind house, same kind of conversation (I guess). Only different language. I felt bored about that. More and more cities: all the same. If we are all basically the same, why do we not speak the same?
Or maybe is time to move continent!!

Today I gent to see my Swedish Professor to get my written work back. I got a B (in the A B C D system, not 1 to 13 or anything like that). I must say I was a bit (pretentiously) disappointed. I know that B is a good mark, but somehow I thought that I would deserve an A.
And do you know why I did not get an A? Because of my English mistakes.

Some people have told me: Do you know that you are the Spanish person that I know that speak the best English? And I go: Well, thanks, but that is because I've lived in England for three years! It is not very meritorious, is it?

So there you go, grammar errors, slips of tongue, not enough knowledge of sayings, spelling mistakes, americanisms (not that those are bad but you have to choose), latinisms, punctuation... How am I going to do to pass my Master? Oh, my!

My main question is : Why do we not recuperate bloody Esperanto!!!

December resolution

2005-11-29T11:05:00.000+01:00

I like it because it is sexy.
I like it because it feels femenine.
Johan likes it for the same reasons.
I have discovered that you do not need to be cold if you wear them.
I bought new pair of tights that are well cute.
And a 50's white dress that I can wear in winter.
December resolution: I will wear more skirts!

Julie Heffernan: Self-Portrait as Flame (Rose Skirt)

Baby melancolie...

2005-11-28T15:22:00.000+01:00

I am now back from Hamburg. Hungry, exhausted, dirty and in a very bad mood. I guess it is not surprising after waking up at 5:45 to take a coach that would drive through the snow for many hours, then take a stinky ferry and read the last three hundred pages of a Spanish bestseller that I didn't even enjoy... I realised that buses are not the best place for literary criticism and that was the only other thing I had...

Well, I am now home. And I am too tired to eat, shower or even sleep!

The weekend in Germany was very nice. Julia and her boyfriend Lurin picked me up from the station in the car, which was very sweet since it was freezing cold. We ate and catch up... I went to bed with that weird sensation that you get when you spend time with somebody you haven't seen for a while... That weirdness left us eventually but it took a bit.
They have been great hosts!

Julia and me met eachother in London through common friends and we hit it off straight away. We went shopping, walking around, drinking beers, eyeing guys and chatting about everything and laughing all the time! Those were great times. We were both single girls and enjoyed every moment of it.
Then Julia left London, she was tired of being bossed aroubd by her celeb-designer boss and was planning to start her own brand and travel to the US to visit her then boyfriend as much as she could. Unfortunately the American Dream didn't materialise and she stayed in Germany with her new boyfriend. They have just moved to Hamburg together and are extremely happy... good for them!

My lifestyle changed dramatically about the time that Julia left London (give or take a couple f months). I changed my job in the relaxed bookshop job to a more demanding one at school library that I enjoyed, I stopped smoking (habit that unfortunately seems I am taking back lately). I also was already into my distance-relationship with Johan and was traveling back and forward all the time. I stopped going out as much, of course. I didn't work with my friends anymore, so we didn't go for drinks after work. Also, I really needed to be well awake in the morning since fighting for silence with teenagers is very energy-consuming. And you can't spend on drinks what you need to save for flights!

I was quite happy about the change, anyway. I felt physically much better and started moving my brains (and my bum in the gym) a bit more often. But I missed Julia like crazy. I missed having a great friend who I did not need to be posy, I missed the naturallity of the decisions and the way she listens without judging. Not many people do this automatically (me neither...)

After London we have kept in touch, of course, phonecall and email here and there... We know what is going on with eachother most of the time, but of course it is not the same and it will never be. We will never "live" together as much as we did, nor be as crazy (healthy crazy) as we were. I feel so sorry for loosing that but of course I am aware that life changes and you need to adapt... Even if sometimes this means be further away (and I do not mean distance-wise) to people that were so close to you in other times.

This is not the first time that happens, of course. Sometimes I feel like that my life is a constant change and that the only thing that remains from the past is me... Sometimes is good to break free from some people but I just wonder whether I am doing this too often.

Just a quick overview of my life: left home to study in University away from home and I didn't really keep my friends there. I have never been sad about it though, I had known for a long time we were different kind of people.
In University I made a great group of friends. Funny, smart, energetic... Unfortunately in the last times everything blew up and nowadays I only have the occasional chat with some of them.
Precisely trying to scape my problems, I left for Paris. Great group of friends too, this time I had healthier relationships, but as happened everytime that you are abroad, ultimately you would depart from eachother.
And then London for a long time... People going back and forward, traveling and learning, having fun and being sad sometimes. And then leaving... Some of them to come back, as I will in a few weeks time.

What I ment with this is that the world of friendships (at least for me) is difficult. Maybe if I had chosen not to leave home everything would have been easier. Or maybe if I had come back home after University, or even after Paris... I wouldn't have seen so many friend departing and probably now I wouldn't be writing this post. Because somehow I feel that there is some part of my life missing, that of the longtime friendships. Maybe it is because of my lifestyle choice, yes, but sometimes I think that it's my fault. That I do not know how to keep people...

That is what I have been thinking all through the very cold weekend in Hamburg, while walking by the harbour, while eating potato buns in the Christmas Market and while drinking mold (not sure of the spelling) wine in a beer tent... Not a very good way of enjoying a potentially great weekend, is it?

"Baby Melancolie" is a song that is now in the German Charts and that Julia loved to sing along.

Silence

2005-11-23T10:00:00.000+01:00

As I have said before, Swedish libraries are not the quietest in the world, so I finally decided to get some earplugs. And the most amazing thing is that I actually went to Apoteket (Pharmacy) and bought some!
Well, since then, everybody seems to be wearing them.

- In the gym: while running and jumping and exercising around. I am not surprised though, the music choices are not generally great.

- Listening to a gig: many members of the audience where using them in the first. Then, when the second band started playing, nearly everybody was (including, of course, all the band members). Two guitars, base, violin and drums in a space no bigger that my bedroom. Thanks goodness they were selling them for 5 kr. Or maybe that is the way they make money...

- In my University library: yesterday I found a hidden spot where they stock free earplugs!! They know that they have a problem or what!

- At home: I don't want to go out today because I have a really bad cold, and there are some works going on outside. SAD SAD SAD!

I have been complaining because I didn't have any earplugs and now I could have a thousand! Oh, well!

Tomorrow I am going to Hamburg to visit my super friend Julia, who just moved there. I can't wait!! There will be no pictures since I do not have a digital camera... Sooo old-fashioned!

Enjoying a few chocolates

2005-11-21T21:26:00.000+01:00

Update for last post: Fucking freezing, below zero.
My bike seat keeps being frosted (not nice) and the ducks (quails or whatever) walk in the water.

Today's post: Woke up early and hurry to take the train to Copenhagen. For those of you who don't know about yet (Por cierto Alberto, gracias por tu comentario, un abrazo!) I live in Malmo, which is in the South of Sweden. It is very close to Copenhagen, linked by a massive bridge (Oresund). The bridge was built only three or four years ago and it takes you to the other country (center to center) in about 40 minutes. It is a very pleasant journey, for about fifteen minutes you travel over the very dark sea... You can see in through both right and left windows!
The funniest thing is it disapears in the middle, as you see in the picture. This is because it is very close to the airport and in the night, pilots may confuse it with a landing strip.

Anyway, this morning, after a very quick ride, took the train to Copenhagen, where Johan was presenting his Bachelor project at 10:00. He was nervous, of course but did really well. He got a 9. Funny how Danish marks are. No A, B C or D. No 1 to 10. No Sobresaliente to Muy Deficiente (ever got one of those?...) but 1 to 13!!! Why?! Why 1 to 13!? I do not think that as long as I will live I will understand it. Johan got a (very above the average) 9. Congratulations!!!

After the stressing morning we had a celebratory pizza with friends and then we hang about for a bit. It was very sunny (and fucking freezing!) day. We strolled around the big avenues and went to a very nice cafe to have a not so nice coffee. And the most important thing... We went to Peter Beier Chokolade. This place has the best chocolates in the world, all kinds and a thousand fillings... white, blach, nougat, chilli... But the most amazing thing is that they have a chocolate fountain. Yes, ladies (sorry guys, but girls are generally more amazed about this) a real fountain waist height, pouring chocolate as water... Amazing liquid dripping down. We obviously got some chocolates and are now going to enjoy the after a pancake-based dinner. Yummy!!

I feel so sexy in my earflaps...

2005-11-20T14:24:00.000+01:00

Maybe it is cold, or maybe it is the winter... Yes it is finally cold in Sweden!

I am feeling tired and cold all the time. At the begginning I blamed the wine we drank the other night. Shame, even lovely organic wines leave you feeling tired in the morning. But now I think I am catching a cold. Ai ai ai! Horrible rinning nose and heavy eyes... dry skin and cold feet. Horrible heating systems in every shop that makes you sweaty and sticky (under your five layers of clothing). Short days that finish at four o'clock. Tiredness, low energy... I do not like winter!

I have started wearing my earflaps and gloves and scarf and big coat. It feels nice bicycling in the cold, it feels nice walking around in the park with all the naked trees. It feels nice to use the blanket to read in the sofa. It is great not having to take so much care about depilation. I like snow. Not that you get that much in many places but you do in Sweden (of course). Last year I saw a frozen lake for the first time. I feelt like Christ walking on the water (jumping! falling! laughing!). And drinking hot chocolate from a thermos that Johan's mum had taken with us. The best morning... I like winter!

The bad thing about winter though, is that it never ends. Once you get to Christmas you think It will only get better. But you are wrong, there are stll another two or three months. Shame.

Wouldn't winter be great if it only lasted two months?

The joys of going bagless

2005-11-18T12:23:00.000+01:00

Yes, this is one of the best things about living in a small city. Being able to go around bagless. You can also use those cute small ones that you thought useless, which is nice.

When working in London, I usually carried two bags with me. The gym backpack (towel, shampoo, flip-flops...) and the normal (massive) one that contained:

Mi book to read during the never-ending journeys in the Tube. The size of the bag would be chosen according to this.
Lunchbox. Have you tried to eat everyday in a school cantine being older than 13? You should not.
My purse with cards, ID and all kinds of crap that you need to have. Because you need to have it, that is the point, uh?
Keys, of course. Generally two sets: home and work.
Travelcard. Way of torture performed at least once a month.
Cardigan. You never know with the English weather.
Tissues. If you don't have any, no Boots will be close enough.
Pens, pencils etc. Optional but always useful.
Mobile phone and sometimes charger too. Being a Londoner without a mobile? No WAY!
Snacks. For example, having breakfast in the tube is a very common thing.
Winter items: umbrella, gloves, scarf... seasonal, in the summertime exchange it for a fan
Bottle of water. Not so seasonal, but essential when it's hot and you travel.

So no wonder why, after a day of hard work and some training you arrive home exhausted, with an aching back and starving...

Then it is even worse if after work you decide to meet some friends for drinks or something. You will arrive to the smelly pub in your nice clothes (Ahhh! the joys of working in the city...) with your two bags full of stuff and dirty lunchboxes and probably some tissues stolen from Starbucks (their coffee is Fair Trade now, so it is not too bad to go there) and probably paper cup that you wanted to throw away, but never could because there are no bins around.

Then somebody (often a guy) would ask you: Are you not too old to be running away from home, love?
And you would reply with gender pride: Who on earth gives you a tissue (this is exchangable with countless items) when you need it??
Still, you would breathe deeply and think How on earth do they manage without a big bag?

I need some fine wine and you, you need to be nicer

2005-11-17T09:56:00.000+01:00

Ayer hable largo y tendido con mi superamiga Yolanda. Que bien sienta saber que conectas tan bien con alguien que esta tan lejos, perdida entre los montes... (porque Yolanda ahora vive en Andorra!)

Hablamos y hablamos y hablamos durante casi una hora de movil Movistar en Andorra a movil Telia en Suecia. Madre mia! Menos mal que la Yoyo ahora cobra bien, porque le van a pegar un palo...

Y nos pusims a pensar y a darnos cuanta de como son los cambios, de lo que significa vivir en pareja. Las dos estamos contentas en general, pero a veces... se hace cuesta a arriba. Por eso hay que llegar a compromisos, podar el arbol a mediada que va creciendo, dijo ella. Y tiene razon.

Ayer por la noche Johan y yo nos dimos cuenta de que la situacion en la que estamos no es facil pero que, aunque las condiciones no son idoneas, pues tenemos que jugar con ellas lo mejor posible. Eso nos pasa porque a mi me gusten los rubios y a el las morenas! Claro, el gusto por lo exotico tiene un precio...

Y esta noche lo celebraremos con vino, comida vegana y con amigos (la comida vegana es por uno de los amigos, no os vayais a creer que una se ha vuelto loca entre estos vikingos!)

My loneliness is killing me (oh baby baby!)

2005-11-16T13:13:00.000+01:00

Ok, ok! When a woman feels lonely makes everything look so much worse than it is. I admit it. It is just difficult for me to handle my emotions sometimes... So this morning I had a tantrum. Motivated for some real reasons, but a tantrum after all. Sorry.

I definitely need to leave the house more often. Still hoping that London will make things better (and wondering "How?" at the same time).

And I promise to try to keep strong! In the meantime, a kiss for min Skatt!

Morning habits

2005-11-14T09:55:00.000+01:00

Johan always used to complain about my habits in the morning. Some of the are annoying, like listening to Virgin Radio or switching the ceilling light on (This looks like a Hospital, he would say). Since we are in Sweden though, my habits are totally different. There is no radio, at least not my favourite morning program, and I do not want to go trough all the trauma of getting used to a new one (I have the feeling that It would be tough!). Also, There are no ceilling lamps. Not in our bedroom, at least. Instead the whole house is full of these small and cute lamps. Pure cosiness! I quite like the fact that you do not have a very powerful light blinding you (I do admit it, Spanish houses might look a bit like a Hospital, specially the kitchen.) but I still miss it in the mornings.. I need to see whether the colours I am combining look good or where are my favourite socks... It is not my fault that my wardrobe is like a little cave!

I do not complain about it though... New country, new habits! (Did I mention now I take off my shoes every time I get home?) At the same time, well, It is not like I am in a hurry to get to places in the mornings! I do not have a job like I did in London and the few lessons I used to attend in the Swedish University are over, what leaves me with a month or so of non-imposed routines... It seems like paradise, doesn't it? But the fact is, that if I do not get a daily routine, I could well become the kind of (desperate?!) house wife that never leaves the tracksuit and slippers... Ok, ok! I am like that when I am at home (cute tracksuit and cuter slippers, mind you) but the main difference would be thatI would be at home ALL the time! Do I want that? No, I don't! So here I go, taking over the new routine of going to the library every morning. I do not know how worth it is it, though. The libraries I have been to are quite noisy... Lovely, big, bright and comfortable, but noisy. I am from the old school, I need silence to study. It is true that you can also go to the so called "Silent rooms" but, as far as I have seen, there are only room with tables and sad white walls, not at all as cosy as the rest of the library..And they have no armchairs. Armchairs in libraries... Great, uh?! I reckon it is time to buy earplugs (if they fit my ears, because they never do..But that is another story!)

Back to where we started, though: my morning habits. Johan convinced me that it is actually really good to have breakfast before leaving the house and not only a cup of coffee (and no, it does not count as breakfast if you put milk in it). Have you tried it? It really wakes you up! Grateful for that...

So let's count: No radio, no bright lights and yes breakfast. He has changed me a lot! But do not think that I have not changed him one bit, because I HAVE! Ha ha ha! (do I talk like a desperate housewife already or what!) Unfortunately, I am not really happy about it. Not about talking like that nor about the change: He has picked up the (awful) habit of leaving the alarm clock ringing for hours before actually getting up. His alarm goes off at, let's say, 7:15. Mine at 8:00. Do I sleep 45 minutes more? No I don't! Did he sleep as much as he wanted when he was in London with me? No, he didn't! And all because of this annoying snooze... Bad bad way of starting the day! From now on, I will really try to get up straight away when the alarm goes off the first (or second) time. Unless I am really tired...

My first post...

2005-11-13T22:38:00.000+01:00

So here I am. Never thought about doing this... Writing something that anybody could read? Simply writing something?

I thought it would be a good idea to organize my thoughts and ideas, to develop my feelings and hopefully, well, have some fun doing it!