Thoughts on Writting Letters

Two letters sent and two more to go. My fingers, my right hand hurts quite some, but I'm happy. I reached out to my friends! To more letters to read, to reply, to send on their way... and then go back to receive them in my old, metal P.O. Box, replying them and knowing that the friends that get my letters within the week, will get them now - maybe - within a month.

It's weird, but I'm getting a little bit giddy about going back to Costa Rica. Yes, yes, I should be sad and sappy, and half of me is - really! - but the other side is thinking "I'll see my friends again!" and "Man! I can grab Sookie (my car) and go for the weekend to Limón (Caribbean province) or to Jacó (beach at the Pacific Ocean)!". And though we all know that the Postal Service in Costa Rica sucks the big banana, I can't wait to send postcards to my friends about our beaches, our vulcanoes and our cities. Yes, I've got a little bit crazy about postcards and have been probably annoying my friends with them. (Wonder if I've sent any postcards to Trish... I think I don't... It kinda feels weird to send her a post card because I feel that's like sending a postcard to your nextdoor neighbour. Really, since she came back from the States I feel like she's the girl next door, like instead of posting her letters I should be slipping them under her door! Weird, huh?)

Hyne, I feel like getting our my post card stash and write some postcards to my friends. :-)

In one of the letters I've replied, a friend of mine told me about a sad case where some friends of hers, who became parents a few years ago, had taken advantage of their new status and her willingness to accomodate to their needs in order to impose. My friend isn't a childfree person like me, at least I think so, so her relating me about how when she asked her friends to please accomodate a little for her, and they refused, threw me aback. 

I really don't get this attitude. To protect the inocent I'll relate the story changing a few minor things, but the idea remains untouched. So, my friend  Veronica has these friends from long time ago - Jenny and Ben -, who fell in love with each other, married and then had a daughter, Elena. Before Elena was born, Veronica, Ben and Jenny went out every weekend or visited each other, to get a coffee and catch up. Veronica spent lots of time in their first place, and then the new home they've got when they were expecting the baby, and Jenny and Ben also spent lots of time at Veronica's place. In those days, they even had a few places they loved to visit, coffee houses and bars where they already felt at home. However, since Elena take up all the time of the new Mom and Daddy, stopped visiting, and told Veronica that they prefered if she would visit them, since the baby was so small. For over six years Veronica visited dutifully her friends, often feeling like an intruder, or being left alone in the kitchen while both parents rushed to tend the whailing girl.

Veronica, who got married in the mean time, but didn't have any children yet by herself, wrote this off to "mornal parent stuff". The topic of "Elena" and everything that was about Elena permeated the conversation to such a degree, that Jenny and Ben seemed to constantly dominate the conversation. Veronica had no experiences of her own to share, and her polite questions about day care and diapers were quickly exhausted. She tried to bring in the old topics they had, like new movies or books, but each time her friends reacted uninterested and cold, brushing off the subject with a patronizing "well, we have Elena now, we don't have time for those things".

Veronica still kept up with them, visited them and tried to find in the obsessive parents who spoke of things that had nothing to do with her life, the great friends she used to have. So, when Veronica got into school, and was spending time over Ben's parents while Ben or Jenny came home from work, she thought about asking them to go back to their old visiting habit, and kindly invited them to her place for a quick coffee. Her husband, an awesome architect, and her had moved to a new place - actually closer to Jenny and Ben - and she wanted to show them the gorgeous skylight he had designed.

Jenny and Ben told her simply, "no". Veronica first thought she understood wrong, so she rephrased, and expended her invitation to them, to which her friends said that they didn't like visiting anymore, and if she wanted to keep in contact with them, she should be the one visiting them, in their home and at their convenience.

Veronica's case isn't the first such I hear, and though the ones imposing this way on their friends are usually parents (though we all know I once had a friend who wasn't married, not had kids, who liked to impose of their friends this way), the funny thing is that we all know many parents - new Mommies and Dadies that still make it and are still able to keep up their regular lives and regular friends. Sure, they can't drop to a party anytime they want, but I certainly know many people who are parents to manage to continue their lives while attending their children. They work, the study, the keep up their hobbies, tend their pets, and meet with friends. How come that for some people becoming a parent basically equals becoming socially disabled, while for others becoming a parent simply means that they have more responsabilities and that they simply have to manage more tasks.

Becoming a parent isn't equal to becoming stupid or imposing, but I do think that some people are really like that, want to feel served by others, want to lord and impose over others, and they take parenthood as an excuse to do so.

I hope my friend gets to sort out the situation with her friends and makes the best possible decision.

Penpalling

I finally finished my letter to my Belgian penpal. ^_^ That had taken me quite a while as it often happens with the letters of my most beloved penpals: you just go on and on and on and you can't shut your pen down! Okay, with my friend Trish is quite worse, truth to be told, as we have proven to each other that noe only our pens are unable to shut up after some "regular amount of pages", but even in person we go on talking and talking, and talking with no end! Her English is remarkable, by the way, and there's not a hit of foreign accent in it, as much as I can tell. If she were to tell you that she's Tara Livingston from Ohio or Katty Morrigan from Sussex you wouldn't even think about doubting her! And her boyfriend also speaks without an accent.

But today isn't about my dear friend Trish or my new friend Phill, but about making a small note about penpalling, and how I've decided to dedicate this day to this wonderful activity. :-) I've a couple of letters piled up for me to answer, and so, since I'm feeling particularly paper-chatty, I'll grab my freshly printed out stationary (love this planetary symbol banner!) and go on to follow a long and delightful conversation with a friend of mine.

Some people don't get it, or don't want to get it, but there's magic in writing a letter by hand, on paper, and posting it on the Post Office. Yes, it takes longer to get to your friend than an e-mail, it's "far more expensive" than an e-mail, takes you longer to compose it, your hand hurts after a while and "don't you get tired or bored of writing by hand?". What weird questions are those, but are fair and are understandable. There's no easy way to explain this, and the only way I can think of explaining it right now, is as thinking of it as magic. A letter is a handmade magical thing you give to someone you love a lot. It takes time and effort, like any good spell you have heard of in the old stories of childhood. Magician and Hero, you wander the paper land with you magic pen-staff or pen-wand and collect the ingredients that unleash the most awesome story of the universe.

With the work of your hand crawled around your magic pen, you make the magic happen, trap it on paper, fold it into an envelop and set it free to find it's destination. It's all magic, with quests and secrets, stories that make you laugh and others that relieve somber thoughts. It is the most fabulous type of magic, free and open for any design, any impromptu drawing, pasting of pictures, collaging, music... even sharing a cup of tea (or a bag) and some breakfast bars. It's open for creative contests, swaps, sharing books, or sending pages void of any decoration, but packed to the brim with tight writing detailing to wonderful precision the life in a part of the world you've never been before, but which you know like your own neighbourhood.

So, e-mails? Yes, they have their space in the life of everyone, but for a penpaller, nothing can compare to the witchery of a handwritten letter.

Swift Forgiveness

One of the perks I've found of going to church, is that more often than not the topic of the Speech, or the message of one of the Biblical Passages read up, offers a good topic also for a post. At church, during the course of the Mass, you can't lift your hand and pose a question to the priest, or tell them that you don't agree with what they just say.

A couple of weeks ago, the main speech was about forgiveness. The idea itself is nice and beautiful, and there's hardly anyone in the world who can think of forgiveness isn't a good thing. The priest that day read a passage from the Bible where the indication was told that we shouldn't go into church or stand in the presence of God with anger in our heart or having bred anger inside the heart of others. Thus, the recommendation given was "before you enter the House of God, go to your brother and make peace". This got me thinking about the grudges I'm holding or those that might be held against me.

It is quite easy to talk about forgiving swiftly, and making peace, but the truth is that this doesn't go as easy in real life. There's one thing when you want to make peace with someone who refuses to make peace with you and you try to find the way to still make it happen, but what happens when it's you who can't really forgive? There are indeed things that are hard to forgive, though you might be willing to forget, or decide not to deal with thw thing and ignore it completely. Children who have suffered home violence, are able to forgive over a conversation years and years of horrors? Families who have lost someone to murder, or those who have suffered abuse, rape or harm, would forgive withing a couple of hours the harm done? Are spouses who have suffered abuse supposed to forgive before mass their abusers?

Not all insults and hurts we have suffered have the same weight in our eyes as in the eyes of others. I'm one - for instance - who can let go easier the insults directed towards me, than those towards my loved ones. I find it quite hard to forgive someone who has disregarded my parents, or who have spoken ill of my friends. Then, often the process of forgiveness doesn't come from one side, as it is hard to forgive someone who keeps lashing the same kind of hurt or insult, maybe even acting as it they were entitled to. 

For many it's easy to preech from their high horses, and claim that those of us who can't find the easy and swift way to forgiveness, as pety, and maybe even label us as "not pleasing in the eyes of God", maybe even as unworthy of trespassing the treshold of a church, but I'd like to ask if they are as quick to forgive leaders and tyrants who have harmed many nations. Easy to forgive Adolf Hitler, Hosni Mubarak, Gadhaffi, Pinochet, Franco, Mussolini, Stalin.

Yes, forgiveness is a wonderful, beautiful thing, but just as with the injuries of the body, when it comes to the soul, the heart, the memory, our injuries need time to heal, and when the scars are left behind, we shouldn't be made ashamed of them. Thinking of not entering a Temple while you have unsolved things in your heart is as irrational as asking you not to enter a hospital unless you are entirely healthy. What better than the comfort and balm of your Deity to wash over your injuries and help them heal better?

Don't be afraid of being unable to forgive someone or something for a long period of time, as long as you don't let the issue fester inside you. Like everything else, pay attention to your feelings, work with them and seek help, if you feel you need them, but don't pretend to sweep the whole thing out of your heart in a matter of minutes, and pretend it never happened, holding your abuser as your new best friend. Specially, don't feel moved to "forgive" someone so that you can stand in the presence of God. God sees all the way into your soul, but if He doesn't, if your god can be tricked with suck a lame move, them man, I think you should change of deity.

In today's Speech, we heard about the false prophets, and how "the tree is known by its fruit". I'll keep this topic for some other day, but it ties here this way: you can say you forgive and that you forgive swiftly. You can say all you want, but it's not your word what matters, but your actions, your attitude, your whole self. You can be excellent arguing, but you can't trick those who see your actions, and above all - come on - you can't trick God.

Keeping Tabs on My Books

One of the tasks I set for myself in my List of 13 is to make a list of all my books in here. It would be easy, of course, to simply take the books and write them down on a piece of paper - title and author - but I prefer a bit more of detail. Not much but a bit more, including noting the original title of the book and the language in which I have it.The reason for this is simple: since I buy books while I still have books without being read, and I also have books both in Costa Rica as well as in Hungary, I'm prone to buy the same book twice. By keeping tabs on my books, I'll try to avoid this, but also if I happen to get it twice, I can give away to a friend.

My collection of books is a little bit big, or at least it has grown since February. I've books in different topics, from classics to modern literature, from crime to philosophy, from economics to books on different religions. I think I even have a couple of books on Christianity, particularly Lutheranism, but I'm not sure if they are here or in Costa Rica.

I started making a list of my books in Costa Rica, but somehow stopped after the 50th. :-( This time I intend to have them all listed before I go back to Costa Rica, so as I keep adding books to my collection - mostly thought online buying ^_^ - I'll be able to add them to my list, but also make sure I'm not ordering something I already have. The task isn't small, but it has to be done.

I guess eventually I'll have to complete my list of Costa Rica, and then think about my Kindle list.

Oh man... I've plenty of work to do!

Discovering and Rediscovering

Though we agree that we can make the difference, that our stand does matter, more often than not we forget to act upon this believe. At the same time, where though we do have a stand, it's hard to balance our stand with the choices the world seem to offer. One of those for me is the activism against animal cruelty.

Testing on animals by performing things on them that you wouldn't do to your own kid or your own pet, isn't something I support, neither I support any sort of cruelty towards animals, and that includes the torturing of even the insects and rodents I don't like. Just because we are bigger and meaner, it doesn't give us the right to abuse of those we can subject to our will. However I'm not one to go vegan because I wouldn't have animals killed for my to eat, nor would I give up fur or leather for the same reason. I'd definitivelly avoid products that have been gotten through proved cruelty, but I won't pick a synthetic product over an organic one just because it's from animal origin. From the ecological point of view, I prefer organic products over synthetic ones, but I don't see the point in rejecting all animal origin products in order to avoid killing animals, because who said that the life of animals is more valuable than the life of plants? Just because they don't scream and make puppy eyes? I am a meat eater, but that doesn't make me less aware of animal cruelty, nor is this a contradiction. (I do tend to say that I like the meat of animals that scream when they are killed, but that doesn't mean that I like to eat tortured animals. It's just a way to describe the type of meats I like, but it has nothing to do with how much suffering I want into my tender loin or my baby ribs.)

However as not many see it this way, it was hard for me to approach international organizations or accept them fully because of the often hard line some take.

Recently, however, I've got more aware about cruelty-free products, particularly cosmetics, and since I sadly discovered that many of my beloved brands don't check out as cruelty free (L'Oreal, L'Occitane), I decided to go on cheking for brands that are cruelty free. It's not so easy, and though there are many companies listed at PETA's database, many of those are not available where I live. Then, as I was checking them, I started wondering about how hypoallergenic could they be. If they are not tested on animals, can they be "clinically tested"? How do they make sure it won't kick up my allergies?

Well, there are actually other ways to test products without harming animals in the name of cosmetics. Some of those include testing on volunteers, testing on patients (I'm not comfortable with that. Just because someone is sick or even terminal, it doesn't give others the right to use them as test subjects. Unless they agree, in which case they should be called volunteers. However, at the same time, hunger shouldn't be used to get test subjects and submit them to barbaric treatments. All tests should be human and well informed.), as well as test on human cells. PETA says that these tests are quicker and cheaper than animal testing, which for me doesn't make sense why would nearly all big companies choose then to continue testing on animals.

Though Oriflame hasn't been listed in this year's clear-out list, it hasn't been black listed, and this company is famous for its long commitment to cruelty free testing. Brands like Avon, Revlon, Esteé Lauder, Johnson&Johnson, Unilever, Gucci, Channel and Procter&Gamble are, however, black listed.

So, once again, I rediscoverd Oriflame. :-) But I think I'll have to say good-bye to L'Occitane... until they choose cruelty free testing. :-(

Another discovery of mine today was in an entirely different area. I RE-discovered bikinies! ^_^ I haven't worn a bikini in AGES, and I do mean, like maybe ten years or more. I stopped feeling comfortable in them, specially because of the environment that surrounds you in Costa Rica. Not like women there don't wear bikinies, but I still felt vulnerable in them, so for years I've stuck with my trusty black one piece swimsuit. I love my black swimsuit - don't get me wrong - but since I've gotten a bit more generous in the middle, and my thighs are also quite generous, I decided to go as generic and non-descriptive as possible, taking the safest looking swimsuit I could find. However, as I've been living here and breathing the safety, acceptance, tolerance and freedom present in Europe, I have ventured once again in the world of bikinies.

I decided that there's no point trying to hide my thights - why would I? and anyways, one piece swimsuits don't hide them anyways - so why would I hide my tummy? Or what? Only flat bellies are acceptable? So I walked into a Calzedonia, where I looked at the different tops and bottoms (they are sold separatelly, which makes it awesome for mixing, or getting different sizes that fit you better), starting with the discount section. I found a lot of fun pieces, including skull bikinies :-D. I grabbed up a bunch for trying out - more bottoms than tops - when I saw a new collection piece that basically imitated the American flag. I grabbed it, and in the end I ended up with only that one. I paid full price and I loved it. ^_^ It's reversible, so technically you've get four different ways to wear it.

I might try it out at the baths, when Trish and Phil come to visit, or maybe some other time, but definitivelly in Hungary (or Helsinki?). I'll see how I feel already wearing it, and if I like it, I might take it with me to Costa Rica. Who knows? Maybe my second Bikini-Era starts now, and I'll be able to enjoy all the possibilities bikinies give you with their choice to mix and match between tops and bottoms, giving you a wider arrange of options than what our trusty one-piece suits give us.

Kissing Kate and My Thoughts About It

Yes, I know a couple of Kates, but I have kissed none of them. This post is about the book "Kissing Kate", so if you clicked it expecting a juicy story, you've been tricked.

Sorry about that, my dear regular readers, but if you saw my blog statistics you'd do the same. I think a LOT of people happen around my posts on mistake, thanks by oddly-working search engines.

The book - Kissing Kate, by Lauren Myracle - is basically a teen book, which may explain why I read it in a day and a half (the first day basically reading on tramways and metros as I did my many trips to IKEA, first to look around and then to get the screws for my burgundy box, since they were forgotten from the packing). The story goes basically about Lissa having been kissed by her gorgeous best friend, Kate, and kissing her back at a party. Kate regrets it and after a period of ignoring each other, Kate wants to make things  as if they have never happened, while Lissa is left wandering what the hell is going on with herself, her friendship and everything in between.

There are few characters, which makes the story very easy to follow, with anough bubbly and happy characters to keep it light. Bear in mind again, that it is a teenager book, so a lot of things must remain light and easily digestable. However this doesn't make the book less enjoyable. Truth to be told, I loved it. And though Lissa is quite likable inspite of her grudgy, rough, hedgehog-complex thing going on, I really got to love Ariel, the hippie-ish, happy-go-Pagan girl who won't get dishearted and try and do her best to sneak into the hearts of those she likes, while being strong in touch with herself, living her dreams and hopes, shaping her life and her world like an artistic potter.

I don't want to spoil the book for anyone, so if you are planning to read the book SKIP THE PURPLE PART! One thing that truly shocked be about it, though, was how suddenly the book ended. I don't know how did it tricked me so well - I should have felt the end coming, since the right part of the book was significantly smaller than the left side, but I kept reading and reading... and it ended. Just a chapter like the others, with a plot just like the others, and the book ended. No final revelation, no solving the Kate thing, not  solving any of the other situations and relationships in her life, not going deeper about Beth or Jerry or Darlin, Finn or Ariel, just another chapter.

At first I was taken aback, paging through the last blank pages in the book (really, why are there blank pages at the end of books? Are we supposed to take notes or something? Is it the place to dedicate? Have you ever wondered about that?). I was a bit disappointed, but then I was really happy. This book actually worked out a concept I was rolling around with for some years now: real life endings.

In real life "endings" exists only retrospectively, in our heads, in our pasts or maybe our futures, but not in our present. The world doesn't end when our life long relationship ends - even if we feel that way - but life continues on and on. You wake up, shower, brush your teeth, dress, pour hot coffee on your freshly brushed teeth and go to work. Also, just because you finally got a break through and solved a problem in your life, figured out a soul tugging question, life doesn't stop to admire your work. In a sense, Kissing Kate does that. It's end points to the life that goes on, the issues that might stretch for ages, but you decide to deal with them, accept them, maybe adjust to them and work towards getting things sorted out.

The next book I'm preparing is a "not real" book. Yes, I've got Heat Wave by Richard Castle, the fake book from the writer from the series Castle. I just couldn't resist it. ^_^ And I've got it in Hungarian. So, in case you wonder, yes, there's a book by a made-up writer being translated to a lot of languages, including Hungarian.

The book has a lot of bad comments, and I'm not expecting much of it, but come on! It's a book written by a procedural show's character! It's like reading the Supernatural books by Carver Edlund (Chuck Shurley/God) from Supernatural. Good or bad, the thing about books like this, is that they work as a "portal", which allows your to believe for a moment that you are living in the world made up by the sitcom, and don't we all love that at one point? :-)

Wonder how long will it take me to read that book, specially since I'm dropping all my planned activities for today, just to do this one, simple thing. :-)

BTW, I've got on GoodReads, a site where you get recommendations of books you might like to read. If you are there and would like to contact me let me know. :-) It would be fun to share book suggestions through it, wouldn't you think?

Books and Boxes

Boxes give me peace. It might be a strange thought, as in the end, I'll be put in a box and stored away six feet under, but yes, boxes make me feel good. I just love boxes. This is how I ended up with several new boxes - which I didn't intended, and quite happy about it.

The plans of the day included our cleaning lady coming in the afternoon for a major cleaning out, which quite limited my day. My boyfriend had work to do, so I had to be home to receive the cleaning lady and give her instructions of what needs to be done. However, since I haven't gone to IKEA, as I had planned to do, I decided to go in the morning. I decided not to postpone it anymore, or I would never get done with it.

I went there early in the day - early for me anyways - and roamed the showroom looking for bargains due to the coming of the new collection. No such luck. Save for a few compliments (some of which we'd need, like the wire drawers for the closet), everything had the same price it normally has. Then, to my absolute disappointment, the spice bottle I had my hopes on turned out to be inadecuate. The lid isn't secured on the top, but only pushed onto it. It may hold your dry dill, but it's not good for collecting the water of the Danube in it. Bugger. Guess I may have to take the ones we've here and which are pretty much "superated" since my spicerack is working and uses other spice bottles.

However I found BOXES. I've been dealing again with my boyfriend's "all over the place" stuff again, and some of my own, as long as with a long existing "CD storage issue", so no sooner thought than done, I was packing storage boxes in my yellow bag. Our "desk" has changed again, got more cluttered - I must admit - but I LOVE the new boxes. Blue for my boyfriend and burgundy for me. Yes, I know, how predictable, but the available selection was black, white, blue and burgundy. White I had for our CDs, and then used burgundy and blue to mark our desk stuff.

The closest IKEA - or the one I can reach with public transportation - isn't close to our apartment, so as I traveled first by tramway and then by metro, I went on reading a book I picked out yesterday. The book is an old one I've bought maybe years ago, but never got around to read it. It's titled "Kissing Kate", and it's about a girl, Lissa, who kissed her best friend, Kate, on a party. I'm not even half way into it, but it's quite good. It's much about teen drama, and Lissa reminds me a lot of Dean Winchester, from Supernatural. An awkward, insecure, girl Dean. It's worked so far very much on the steps of a coming of age type of story with a very interesting twist: her little sister, Beth, is actually being pressured by her classmates to behave like a much older woman. Beth is ten and her friends already talk about make up, fashion, makeovers and desperately wanting to get boobs. I don't know yet where this is going, but this side story has caught my attention.

Really, how many little girls we see who dress and wear make up like adults? Knee high books, mini skirts, bra-shaped tops, uncovered bellies, make up sold in kid sets... One thing is to sneak into Mom's closet and try out her dresses, her high heels, her jewelry and her make up for pretends, and another is not live like that. Won't they be adult long enough to get bored of that stuff (or am I the only woman in the planet tired of high heels, tight mini skirts, silk stockings and make up?)? Not like our media is helping, bombarding our children with messages about growing old fast because all fun exists between the ages of 20 to 29.

Today there's a Celebration also. In Costa Rica today we celebrate the day when our North Western province, Guanacaste, choose by the free will of their inhabitants, to belong to Costa Rica rather than Nicaragua.

Like each of our seven provinces, Guanacaste has a culture of its own, which has made us that much richer. Their handmade tortillas are famous across country (and are my favorite), as well as many other dishes of their typical cuisine, their music and their traditional dresses.

Though I ought to write more about it, I'll keep this one short this time around.

Guanacaste used to be a province of Nicaragua, but since they were closer to Costa Rica and most of their trade relations and political relations were dealt with the Costa Ricans, at one point they decided to belong to us. As expected, Nicaragua didn't take this well, and up to this day they talk about "Costa Rica stealing away Guanacaste". However, up to this day, all the villages of Nicaragua close to the border with Costa Rica, trade and buy their stuff from Costa Rica, get their health services from Costa Rica and even enrole their children into Costa Rican schools.

There are many sides to this story, but I'd like to highlight the following ones: 

1. Relationships need to be nurtured. You can't pretend that your family, your friends, your significant other, your job, your club, or your hobbies take care of themselves forever while you say "yes, I' with thus and thus, I work at thus and thus and I have thus and thus hobby". Like Nicaragua lost Guanacaste, so you could lose something you "have" because you get it for granted. Imagine your life as a garden. In there are planted all the things you care about and you love. If you don't care after them, weed them, water them, check them, they'll die on you, or someone might pluck them off your garden and take better care of them.

2. Time to change, time to go, time to accept something new. When your situation isn't working, often you can't expect the other side to make decisions for you. Be Guanacaste. Dare to leave the person who isn't treating you well. Dare to leave your family's house and live for your own, put distance if the situation has gotten asphixiating or if you've realized that you are not growing any more as person. Dare to leave your job when it makes you feel bad, or when it becomes a dead point in your career. No, not all jobs are sucky. Yes, maybe you are the problem, maybe the "suck" is in you, but maybe, just maybe!, you've been tripping into all the sucky jobs in town and you need to continue your search for a normal, regular, decent job that makes you happy.

3. Treat others nice. Be Costa Rica. Just because this person isn't part of your group of friends, it doesn't mean you can't be nice to them. Be nice as long as you are not looking for the benefit in it. Give from the heart and realize how awesome it is to be able to give.

We Have Sheers!

Our apartment looks different again, better, if I may say so, and the reason is simple: we hung our sheers from the windows. And Goodness Gracious! The difference it makes! Light isn't harsh in the room, though that has never been a problem, but the windows themselves have smoothed as well. The ugly gas pipes get somewhat better hid from sight, and the unslightly, discolored window frames are also discreetly taken away from the view.

We had bought the sheers perhaps a month ago, but didn't get to hang them, since it demanded time. We have three windows and for each of them there's a pair of sheers that need to be fitted. My boyfriend's job was to get on the ladder and hang the sheers twice - one for measuring them up and once when they were finished. My job was to measure the sheers, calculate the exact lenght with the expected 4% shrinkage (I totally love that IKEA tells you about this!), and then mark the lenght by ironing the part that would be the edge on each of the six sheer panes, then put in the fixing strip (a sort of plastic strip that sticks to the fabric when it's ironed to it, normally used to stiffen the fabric, but also to make a hem without stitching), and cut the excess fabric. It wasn't a short job, but we made it today at last, and I'm pleased with the results.

After visiting my penpal Trish on the weekend, I must admit that I'm quite ashamed of our apartment, as it isn't as taestfully arranged as theirs, but then again maybe I'm just being silly. There's no way, after all, that an economist who has spent most of her life in the tropic, could possibly compete with a consumed, professional interior designer and furniture connoisseur who happens to live in an artistic, tasteful town, where everything is just delightful.

Be it as it may, my boyfriend wants me to take pictures of the apartment, so he can upload them on the Real Estate web, to get a feel of the price our apartment could get. Realtors, you know.

I had plans for today, but none of them got completed. I was supposed to go to the Post Office, since I so brightly forgot to give my postcards to Trish - living with her kind offer - so she would post them for me from Braunau to my penpals. I think it is about time I start thinking about going to the doctor to get some "old people pills" prescribed. My memory is really, REALLY bad (maybe I sould start thinking also about getting a pillbox, so I can keep my medication in order for the future). Then I wanted to go to IKEA on a double mission. For once, the new collection would enter in August, so what better chance than right not to get a feel of what pieces of the old collection are leaving the scene and thus being sold at reduced prices. And we need two desks. Urgently.

The other reason is to search for small bottles. I'd like to take with me a few elements of Hungary that will accompany me wherever I am. Since the traditional elements (Earth, Air, Fire, Water) are kinda hard to get - due to the air - I was thinking about the five elements of Chinese philosophy (Wu Xing: Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). The idea of it came to me the other day, when I was once again marveling at how different the soil is from that of Costa Rica. I guess I can't get over the pale, sandy type of earth we have here. I've already located the source for all of my elements, decided on each of them BUT I haven't found the bottles. Naturally plastic bottles won't do it, because I kinda want to keep the "organic", old, natural feeling to them, AND I need them also to contain water, so wood boxed wouldn't do it either. Now, the bottle you see in this picture is what I'm thinking about, in a small size, say 7 cm (3 inches) high, or with a 1dl capacity. That's all I need. I don't want to take the whole Danube with me, along with half of the Roman Excavations. But you know what? Getting these small bottles is impossible. I'm not kidding, it is impossible!

Upon this, and having bought in February some spice jars, I thought about making it happen with spice jars.

Well, the trip wasn't made, so we shall see if I can unglue myself from bed in time to go to IKEA and take a quick check around the kitchenware and see where can I hunt down my bottles. It doesn't help my case knowing that Amazon.com has them and sells them. :-( Why!? They wouldn't make it in time! (Not like I won't buy them! I will).

I'm packing - I just finished my first packing try out today - but I still have a lot of stuff to pack and to get. I at least want a mini cauldron (you would too, if you would have eaten that FABULOUS bogrács stuff I had! Wish I could pack a real size one and tons of venison... that would make me happy), and then some replicas of medieval time swords (mini!) and jewelry I saw being sold at one of the museums I visited. I'll still visit my favorite museum, but I doubt there's anything left for me to buy there, as I've bought all the Empress Sissi books and souvenirs I could get my hands on.

Well, tomorrow is a new day, and the cleaning lady is coming, so I'll have little time and plenty to do. ^_^

The War of Shorts

I must start working on my luggage, deciding what stays here and what goes with me back to Costa Rica. It's also a good moment to review my stuff and decide what goes for good. Naturally all my office clothes come with me, as well as my flats and my sandals, and my crocs. I'm not sure about my pumps; though as those probably need replacement.

My shorts stay. It may sound stupid, but yes, my shorts must stay. Thinking about this, the other day I shaved my legs and put on my dressing pair of shorts. Not that I have so many pairs - just three. All of them black. I use my sport shorts for jogging these days, or for staying at home. If I’m going out for a little stroll or to run errands I change into my black, string Bermudas. For going out I was wearing my Polish jeans, but then after thinking about the fate of my clothes and having shaved my legs, I grabbed my dressing shorts and paired them with a white cotton, flowy blouse and my eternal black flats.

The day had started with a plan to go to the movies, which quickly morphed into different plans, since I still had a few things to complete from the second List of 13. Of course, this decision was also influenced by the fact that there's nothing worthy in the movies. So, checking the List, I decided to go on and visit two antique bookstores, and deal with the rest of the unfinished stuff in the way. I set my eyes on two particular bookstores, one of which is located in a part of town known by its Jewish history, while the other is located on a busy, fashionable tourist ridden street. And I went to both locations wearing shorts, flats and a flowy blouse.

In Europe people don't think twice about wearing shorts when the weather is hot. With the summer, but sometimes even with the first steadier rays of light, the first warm spring shimmer, men and women alike grab their shorts and start the steady building of a leg "city-tan". In Europe such a thing is possible, but that's not the case everywhere. You don't need to cross big religious and cultural borders, or think about women wrapped in Burqas, laws and religious prescriptions, prison sentences or public flogging, or ex communion, to find harsh restrictions against certain types of clothing. One of the most effective ones I know in this matter is the condoned, unpunished, well known and yet tolerated public harassment. Not one European person would think that there's a type of clothing that takes away your human condition, your status as person, or that would automatically cancel your rights, particularly your right to be respected and have your dignity respected. Tons of people go sunbathing on public parks wearing nothing but a G-string and a hat, and not one person feels entitled to treat them as meat.

However there are other places in the world, capital cities, large metropolis, or democratic, capitalist nations, Christians in its majority, where your clothes make you or break you. Colors and style define the sexual tendency of men, regardless of their actual sexual tendency, and anything - intended or not - in the clothing of women that suggests body shapes, skin or sensuality is quite enough to give green light to anyone - absolutely anyone - wishing to harass her. She put on the clothes, so it's her fault. This behavior is thus further enforced by the myth that women - no matter how much they deny it - love this type of harassment, that this is an actual compliment, and that all women are such attention whores that they dress everyday with one single objective in mind: collect as many “compliments" from strangers as possible.

Then, there's virtually no type of clothing that could fend off the harassment, only options to reduce it or manage to get the less aggressive kind of harassment possible. After years of chalk-white legs - and you know I'm not white! - my legs have started to get a soft, while bread crust color, my very own "city-tan", but my shorts have to remain here, my tan will quickly fade away and I’ll be forced once again to wear the imposed Burqa of my democratic, free, capitalist, Catholic country - the alleged happiest country in the world - where the gender equality exists in law, in paper, in the parliament, but where in the streets women are still possessions, where their clothing isn't a free instrument of personal expression, but a ram brand, an excuse to further deny their rights and their humanity.

What can be done to free clothes, to give back humanity to the Latin women, to all women and stop this daily, terrorizing type of harassment? I reach out to men as well for answers. 

From The Highlanders and Back To the Flatland

Our trip to Braunau has come to an end, and I must say that it has been beautiful and memorable to the last minute. I don’t have Trish’ talent to make a lovely recount of a trip – as that has been made quite obvious in my last two posts... and any other posts I’ve ever written thought a travel – so I’ll refrain the most dignified way from even attempting again to do so. We’ve got a lot of private jokes and the sour realization from my side that I can’t play jokes on Phil: he’s immune to my sense of kidding. I guess he compensates for Trish’ outstanding reactions to kidding.

Today we checked out of our lovely hotel, where to my disheartening amazement I found out once again that generic, hotel shampoo/shower bath is much better for my hair than the overly expensive shampoos I hunt down often at exclusive stores. My question now is, how can I get some of that stuff for myself? In the worse of cases these supplies can only be bought at stores that cater only to hotels. This gets me thinking: “maybe I should get in contact with the owners of my favorite hotel in Vienna and explain my situation and ask them to help me get my hands on some of the stuff. I’m a frequent customer with them; sure they would like to help me, right?”

Still on hair, today we saw only one of the brunet kids of Austria, which according to the local source, is the 80% of the population. The rest of the kids were blond, but that still doesn’t explain the over exposition in the media and advertisement, of ginger kids. Ginger kids seem to be the local Children of the Corn… and there are plenty of cornfields around Braunau! It’s so weird… I still think of corn as an American product, that’s absolutely native. and it’s quite weird to see huge tables of land packed with corn around little, typically countryside Austrian houses, and knowing that this people don’t do tortillas, pozole, tamales or even chicha from it. Really, what do they do with so much corn? Biofuel?

Me - being the economist I am - suddenly think that there might be a weird "international trade" crap going on, like it takes less units of wool to produce a unit of corn in Austria than in Mexico, or something like that... but still, really, if corn isn't a main staple - or at least a visibly main staple of Austria, why would they bother growing it? (Hazards of reading economical magazines)

We walked around in a town that was dead because it was Sunday and nothing was open. Nothing. The whole idea that you’ll have to drive to a gas station in the middle of the day to get a carton of milk was bewildering. I guess it gives you sense of peace and allows your body to really rest – since you can’t run errands or do any of the things that you’d normally do on the weekend – but come on! What if I’d like to spend my weekend getting a haircut or having a professional facial, or just at the mall window shopping? Nope, the quiet, and truly lovely town becomes a veritable ghost city on Sunday. I still wouldn’t mind living there, truth to be told, provided that I get impeccable access to the internet or a car that can take me to the next living civilization.

Braunau is a quite beautiful location, peaceful, artistic, historically rich, and aesthetically breathe taking, but please don’t go there! J Well, you my very few readers can go there as long as you swear eternal secrecy: I’d hate to have it crowded with tourists. (Though that might inspire the population of the town to translate some of their stuff to English, so I can understand them too.)

Our last touristic location was Salzburg itself, where we went to a museum village, which was really exciting with the traditional clothes and old fashioned houses and equipments, traditional crafts and a beer garden where we learned about the rejected, and most delicious sausage ever. We’ve got so comfortable around each other that we were eating from each other’s plates, like a group of laid back college students. It was so awesome!

We are on our way home now, with a heart filled with warmth, good memories and brand new friends, and stronger penpallship. If it will come to happen, we will Trish and Phil will be our guests in Budapest. I’ll prepare, so I’ll try to match their superb hosting skills, but if that doesn’t work, at least they’ll leave Budapest knowing as many pubs as it would otherwise be not possible. It is needless to say, that they are – of course – warmly welcomed to visit Costa Rica whenever they want to. :-D There are plenty more of pubs to visit, and certainly many more beaches.

Gathering up my thoughts about this trip, I've come to experiment again, that meeting your penpals shouldn't be something you should be afraid of. If anything, a meeting can pepper up an already smoothly working penpalling relationship. I can imagine my letters to Trish now, full of comments and common references to these days and the shared experiences. It will be different now to talk about food, since we have shared meals together, and her praising of Phil's cooking skills will bear with an extra weight, since now we know that he's an Iron Chef living incognito in Sleepy Town, Dreamy Austria.

Indeed you may not be able to arrange a meeting with all of your penpals, with time and money getting in the way, but if you can, pack up your camping gear and meet them! Penpallig IS, after all, about reaching out for  friends and getting together to share bits and snipets of our lives, so, if you want their letters in your life, why wouldn't you want THEM also in it?

A Walk Through Fairyland

Whomever came out with the INSANE idea that hard mattresses are good, was seriously delusional. Really, what's the job of a mattress? It is to make your sleeping comfortable, to keep your body from getting bruised due to the hard surfaces that the furniture or the floor can provide. When putting a cushion on a chair, you wouldn't put a rock, right? Right? Then why is the mattress of the bed so FREAKING hard! My boyfriend loves it -  I can't wrap my head around why, but he does - but I don't.

Our hotel in Braunau is beautiful, lovely really, the view is nice, it's a minute away from Trish's place, the breakfast is yummy, the furniture is gorgeous, the bathroom is amazing... but the minibar is empty - and I'm a minibar junky - the safety box doesn't work, AND the mattress is hard. I do want to take some of the pictures home, though. And if I recall correctly, the pictures you see in hotels are for sale, if you ask for them. (Many local artists use this way to promote their work. They are not professional, not really that good, but if you like a piece, you can buy it, and I'm quite fond of this naïve style.) I'd still whole heartedly recommend this place to others, and the next time I'll come here (because there will be a next time - mark my words), I'll stay here (though probably I'll as the manager in advance if he can get me an extremely soft mattress).

Today we spent all day with Trish and her boyfriend. Well, her boyfriend joined us for lunch, but still, they basically spent the whole day with us. We did a small tour though Braunau, where Trish and I went either paparazzi on each other or bored our boyfriend by stopping to take 100 pictures of a flower. I guess I must still be a Latin American at heart, because all these beautiful, fairly tale like scenes amaze me endlessly. It's not so much that I take pictures of it because they are so beautiful (which they are!) but because I nearly want evidence that these things exist in real life, not only in Hollywood stories.

Trish was tremendously patient and lovely showing us around, and taking pictures with us as well, just as if she were a tourist too! We visited stores too - because there's no real visiting and sightseeing for me if there isn't a detour to a store where something beautiful can be acquired - and walked down cobblestone streets, visited a medieval bathhouse, and saw huge blue glasses hang from a porch marking the craft of the shop owner. Yep, my first though was "oh, this man does sunglasses for vampires!". Yes, that might seem really stupid, but if anyone objects, I can always pull the "Latin American Tourist" card and say "sí, dis is beri cool, be don hab blue anteojos in maaj contri".

The trip, however, wasn't only about Braunau, as Trish and Phil (her boyfriend) took us to other towns nearby, a place were you could look ever to the South of Germany (Bavaria), and then there too, to a town called Burghausen, which was sooo cool! Okay, Burghausen was awesome, but Braunau can easily give it a run for its money. Then, however - it might be only me! - Austrian food, particularly cakes, are unbeatable. I wonder how come there isn't fat people in there.

Sweet dumplings filled with strawberry, apricot and plum jam,

seated on strawberry sauce with chocolate and nut cream.

Back at Austria we had dinner at this very cute place, with very friendly staff and guests, where we had a HUGE plate packed up with bread dumplings, potatoes and pork (it was pork, right?) made in such an amazing way you would want to dive into the dish, swim in there and live there eternally. Of course all that was topped with Schnaps - they had pinecorn Schnaps and we had apricot Schnaps.

People, say what you like, but Austrians really know how to live.

Would love to post more, write more, say more, BUT someone who I won't name, had taken over the internet for over 90 minutes when they said they would use it only a couple of minutes, and thus I had to wait until late to get access to the cable that feeds the cyber universe into my netbook. It's late now, and we have to wake up early tomorrow, because we are going to Salzburg before returning again to Budapest.

So, see ya tomorrow... when I'll be able to blog wirelessly from the train or something like that. :-P Peace out and Blessed Be!

Braunau Here We Go!

Finally we are on our way to Braunau. 09:10 train, departing from Budapest, Keleti Train Station (that's what means "pályaudvar") with destination Salzburg (the city where Mozart was from). From there it's yet another train to get to our final destination, where I'll meet - at long last - a penpal of mine. ^_^

The day started with an early waking, for which nobody was gratefull, except Cinder, of course, who got her daily food at once and about one hour earlier than usual. Our crazy little monster looks now ahead to a three day vacation from her "humans", who are always trying to pet her and hug her and never let her go. (Hell, we remind me of Elvira, from the Tiny Toons!). Though I had packed up all of my things yesterday night, my boyfriend had only packed part of his stuff, as he was otherwise occupied. (I'm loosing my boyfriend to the dubious art of philatelia, so currently the hunt of the rarest post stamps in the world is far more important than menial things such as packing ^_^)

After pulling our sleepy bodies from the comforting embrace of the bed, we made the bed, cleaned the cat's litter throwing out the old one and pouring in fresh litter. Finished the last aspects of packing, such as packing the deodorant, flip flops (and I think my boyfriend may have left his at home...), and then put to use my unique luggage winzipping skills. As time goes by I'm amazed at my ever improving skill to fit overflowing masses of stuff into small suitcases. It makes me feel like Mary Poppins! My boyfriend, on the other hand, was busy preparing a huge amount of sandwiches, which I believe he intends to feed to the poor or for an Army stationed on the way that's waiting for his sandwiches to save the world from eternal damnation. Really, what's with Hungarians and their idea that you need to make 10 sandwiches per person for a 6 hour trip... on a train that has a bufet wagon? Or is it just my Costa Rican side telling me that there's no need to pack food when you can surely buy it on the way?

We've got our tickets yesterday, and at the express recomendation of the lady selling us the tickets, we've got reserved seats. These are numbered seats that are good only for a given trip. This means that you pay more, but you have to take a given train, because the reservation is good only for that one trip. (You can take other trains too, but then you'll loose your reservation.) Piece of advise: when the lady at the train station cashier tells you to get the reservation, GET the reservation! We've got to the train about 30 minutes before departing and got our seats - fabulous and with table secured, which allows me now to blog comfortably ^_^ - and as we were looking around realized that most seats are already reserved, and there's not one single good seat that's not taken. Many people have gotten on the train without reservations and had to suffer the discomfort of being made move out of the places they've taken because they were reserved for others.

A lot of people is traveling these days to Austria from Hungary, due to the summer vacations - and because Hungarians are crazy about Austria - which has prompted the railroads to sell the tickets at lower prices (less than half of the original price), but also to have these frenetic runs for seats. We are traveling on an Austrian train (ÖBB), but the internet in it doesn't work. :-( Bugger. Oh well, there's always our mobile internet, which I have to give to my boyfriend shortly before we get to the Hegyeshalom, where the border between Hungary and Austria is located, and from where on the fee for internet goes on roaming standards.

I can't wait to see my friend, meet her in real life, and I can't wait to see what Braunau looks like... and how should I actually pronounce it.

If everything goes well, the next post will be from Austria.

Honesty and Simplicity

(Today's post's begining was written during lunch at Planet Sushi, drafted in my agenda.)

Whatever thing is said, whatever text is written, there will always be a million interpretations to it, regardless of the intentions of whomever said them or wrote them originally. These interpretations can be opposite one to another, and even contrary to the message originally issued. Think about the way refusals are considered an answer not worthy of being taken seriously. If someone I like says "no" to me, that doesn't mean "no", it means "I'm playing hard to get, so I want you to keep pestering me until I say yes". Laws get also reinterpreted time and again to condemn the people we don't like, and save ourselves or those we like. But think of something as simple as a yellow light. For some drivers and pedestrians it means "slow down, red light is coming", but for others it means "hurry up, red light is coming!". For some it means "risky", but for others it means "heads up, avoid any risk".

Interpretations are particularly expense and large in variety when it comes to social norms and religion. On the exact same words and exact same text a group can condemn a person or celebrate it, and mankind has been making use of these interpretations to often validate their own agendas and lord over others.

Today I went to a Bible Class, where my grandpa was the day's expositor. The  verses analyzed were in the Gospel of Luke 12:1-12. (I'm including a link for the passage, in case you'd like to check it out by yourself, and you either don't have a Bible or it is way too far for you to get up, get it and search the passage.) Shortly, this passage follows another where Jesus was talking to the Pharisees, basically trashing them for getting all wrapped up on irrelevant stuff, such as all the tons and tons of laws and social norms invented for the Jewish people which are supposed to be the guides for us to be pleasing in the eyes of God. You know, like those extremists and people far from reality, who thinks that God would hate all women who don't stay at home and have 20 babies and raise them, or that cutting your hair is a sin, or wearing spaghetti straps are a mark that you are in alliance with Satan. Yeah, we know the type, and sadly they exist today too.

Anyways, in this passage, Jesus speaks to the people and basically tell them four things: (1) don't be hypocritical as the Pharisees, (2) all secrets come to light and will be known by all, (3) don't fear the judgment of the men, but the judgment of God, and (4) if you deny God before men, then Jesus will deny you before God. My grandpa, just like my grandma (my grandpa being my mom's dad, and my grandma being my dad's mom), have kinda grown into the Pharisee state of his spiritual life, and from what I gather, loves to condemn people constantly. He actually has a fanclub composed by several older ladies from the church, who would rather burn in hell than to miss one of his speeches.

Anyway, he's interpretation of this passage was quite somber. In his view, Jesus had seen forward the fact that we would have satellite TV, and that the "hypocrisy of the Pharisees", or in other words "the false prophets" and the sins would come to us and would be broadcasted from the roofs. This served basically as a kick off point to whip everybody, calling us all sinners who should be casting out our hypocrisy, our thinking that we know or know better, our wise-ass attitude and return to God humbly, serve them in slavish servitude, live lives carbon copied from that of Jesus (the church approved version, of course, not the one where Jesus gives up on the family business, distances himself from the ruling church and then more masses to a new gospel, pinpointing the flaws and the corruption in the church, calling out their leaders and making them look bad before everybody. I mean, let's face it, if Jesus were here, today, born a man again, pulling his well known stunts, the church would outcast him again and call him a Pagan or maybe even a Satanist), and live under three principles: obey the Law (religious law), love and serve God humbly. He cross quoted to make his point, and quoted profusely from Paul, which surprises me, since when I debated his stiff view on religion and told him that the bible itself, in Paul, said that women should remain silent in church, and that nobody is interested in what women has to say, he condemned the possible role of women as priests, and yet he went to a church were women served as as priests; and to this he said that the Church has decided that all of Paul's writings are opinions, not laws.

He went on and on about how God would never, ever forgive us if we didn't stick to His rules, how we should make our lives a living testimony of this absolute, abject serving, not thinking for once that God is our friend - He is not, God is our LORD (oh fuck, and here I'm buddies with the Lord...) - and the tests he puts in our way are meant to hone us and teach us, and it's futile to ask God to help us, to lessen our burden because He won't, because He personally considers that His Mercy should be emough for us.

Now, I don't know you, but if all that's true, I'd like to give back my membership card and find myself some other god. I mean, wouldn't you? Why would you pray to a god who won't help you, but who is keeping a close eye at you to account each time you make a mistake or let a chance to be good pass by? I mean, shit, bad bosses are better than this type of god!

My grandpa's fanclub was quick to express their love and admiration, engrossing his words with humble questions upon key pious points, and then deciding that Satan is lurking behind every corner, that we are in danger, and from that they were quick to bitch about the fortune teller shows on national TV, and then how much damage superstition and all superstitious stories do to children.

Though I wasn't thinking about participating - it wouldn't have looked good if I laughed in their faces and told them to wake up and smell the coffee, because they are the new age Pharisees - but then I've got the feeling that I should never the less expose my position on the matter, with no (direct) attacking. My interpretation is as follows:

Parting from the previous part, in this passage I understand that Jesus is telling people to beware from the hypocritical attitude of the Pharisees, who put the accent of spirituality on the superficial signs and the social norms, that you shouldn't fear the judgment they pass on you for not falling into their narrow self accomodating definition of what a God-pleasing-person is, or what makes a good and just person, but hold yourself only to the judgment God passes over you, because there's no such thing as eternal secrets, and even in this life, among people, it's not the words and the superficiality what matters, but what's inside your heart, the truth of your soul, and if that denies God, you are denied as well, but if that acknowledges God (in any of His forms...) then you are acknowledged as well.

You don't have to know the Bible by heart, quote it profusely and fit every minute of your day to a verse, but all you have to do is be honest, connect with The Divine in any way you see Them, in any way They speak to you, and be honest about it, own to it. Don't be afraid because people around you might think that your views or religion are wrong, for if they are right for you, The Divine (through the Holy Spirit or any of Their names and ways) will find the way to your tonge and answer wisely to their accusations. You don't need to hide, you don't need to pretend to be saint when you are not, because eventually we will all know the truth about you, maybe not in so many words, but soon we will notice that you words are hollow and your intentions are phony.

It is my interpretation, but in it, instead of the castrating, enslaving, bitter destiny saw by my grandpa, I see a ray of freedom, shackles falling into the dust of the road, and an open call to fuck off all those human formalities and step into an honest, simple, organic connection with God... and own it.

... and I think God's freaking cool. ^_^