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. ^_^

My Geek Pillow

Today, finally, I've got MyGeekPillow, and I must say, that I love it! Well, them. I've got two! Just in time, as the adorable micro-enterpreneur promised, and I must say, they worth every penny! Can't hardly wait for Kari to pick his geeky logo and have his pillows made just like mine! ^_^ Now, no, I'm not being cheap, but I'm keeping my pillows in their plastic bags because I don't want then to get all dirty before I take them home. Yep, they are going abroad and will live in Budapest with Kari and me.

They are made out of non-stretching cotton fabric (for the body of the pillow) and felt (for the design) and they are sooooo soft and so perfect and sooooo niiiiiiiice!!! I forget to ask whether they are washable, but I believe they are not really that washable due to the felt. Felt deforms easily.

I'm a total sucker for pillows, and I mean pillows of all kind. I even have three just for sleeping, and I pile up throw pillows everywhere. Office, bed, floow you name it!

When thinking about our home, I was always clear about throw pillows on the bed and in the living room, probably even at the bench on the hall... anywhere I can put a throw pillow I will. However up to MyGeekPillow I thought my pillows would be solid, serious pillows peppered up here and there with Pucca and Hoops&Yoyo, which I've got for my birthday a year or so ago from two different friends (who know about my not-so-secret liking). Perhaps I would score a few more before I'd move home or something. However, when I've got to know about these pillows through Twitter, the light was made: I wanted at least one of these cyber-era marks in my home.

Kari isn't much into the Internet, but I can think of a few programs that mean to us, that perhaps he would like to see lined up in our couch. This is our life, this is our world, and I want to bring all that together, have it represented in Our Home.

MyGeekPillow

So it happens that there's something called "Geek Pillow", which is basically a pillow made with the logo of something geeky (or any design you'd like to put on it), and I must admit that it has caught my attention. Someone on the Twitter published a picture of one of these and I soon decided I wanted one. But one about what?

So today I was thinking about what kind of logo or image I would like to see on my geek pillow. That one was hard, because I don't really see myself as "geek", and add to it I don't have any favorite community or site or whatever I feel identified with. If anything I'm quite the "anti-site", since I'm a fierce anti-Facebook user, and my appearances on the Twitter (in spite of what some people say) are as occasional as the UFO sightings, not to mention my once-in-a-while appearances at the MSN, Google Talk and other IM places. So, today, after randomly searching for possible geek pillow motives (and keeping my personal symbol as a last resource), I came up upon a few options that do hit the nail in the head with me. Check out my options.

... because I'm a 100% IBM ThinkPad Believer

 

 ... simply too beautiful to let it go by...

 

... I'm honest and proudly Hungarian. I'm on iwiw.

... Duh.

As for which am I going to choose, I still don't know, and that also depends on the price of the geek pillows. I've told Kari about the pillows and asked him to choose something he likes so that we can geek-pillow it up, so that in our place we have these unique, personalized and geeky pillows in our living room, our bedroom and just about anywhere we feel like putting it.

Yay! Can't wait to decorate My Home!

Organized: A Way to get the Hang of It

Truth to be told, I wouldn't really think of myself as "organized", since I do have "messy spots" here and there, and I'm not as tidy as Dragonfly or my Aunt, or even my mom, for I leave usually a small "chaos space" for leasure (even though sometimes it takes the leasure out of the leasure and just makes a small knot of chaos), but then it seems I am. I'm organized compared to most of my coworkers, and therefore I've been entrusted with several things (double sided tape and stuff of which there's only one piece) because someone must make sure not to misplace it. I'm undoubtfully more organized than Kari, so I'm the one putting up the schedule for the three weeks I'll spend at home.

When I organize, whatever I do organize, I work in in big chunks first, "boxes" if you would like, and this is how, after turning the big blocks around, I kind of put my "skills" to other uses, and so I started organizing mentally Kari's place. I realized that the current outlay ain't bad, but rather good, if you know how to use the space. Kari dislikes it because he finds in it lots of dead spaces, but I think I have just come up with a fantastic solution, and add to it, a lovely outlay more in concordance with my liking. Still gara see how it works out, but I'm so excited!!! ^_^ I home to arrange and decorate. Wiiiiiiiihiiiiiiii!

I'm one happy Bunny. ^_^

Art Nouveau

Is Art Nouveau comming back to town? I do hope so, but the chances of it are slim. It's not a secret for anyone that this is my favorite kind of art, and that if I could would make and design everything into this fabulous style. To say that I love it is an understatement. I simply adore it. I find it so suiting to my style, my desires, my likes and my loves.

Today I was talking to my boyfriend and the topic of conversation stranded again about the Óbuda apartment he owns, and about it's location and decoration. I think he's scared about me going all bold an particularly "expensive". For the first time I saw a layout of the apartment. I was shocked to see that he was planning to move the kitchen right before the living room. Then again, I have not seen one Hungarian flat or house with a decent, normal distribution so far... maybe only my aunt's place. I was trying to find a way to place the kitchen outside the traffic area, because, really, I don't want people entering my home through my kitchen, but given the impossible layout of the place, I've made peace with it... for a while. Meanwhile that kitchen must look pristine 24/7.

Another matter on the table is decoration. Though there are not many pieces of furniture in there I've a hard time already making peace with. There's a couch living set that... dude, "leather". That screams "careless, unconcerned, immature bachelor". Why men like leather furniture? It smells, sticks to you, makes you sweat, makes you slide constantly, makes more noise than regular upholstery, and if the sole concern is that it's easier to clean, Hell, what the fuck are you expecting to clean off that couch? So sacrificing comfort and style for messiness? Like that would happen. Then, there's a dresser... which used to belong to his mother. Goner.

Rule number one: you can't start establishing your own space, your own style with the handoffs of other people. If they match your style, sure, but these are NOT a place to start, when you are heading off fresh. Now, unlike many would think by now, I do have an idea of "budget", therefore I work in the lines of "main pieces" that would create the core of the style and around which little by little one can work and add more with time. On my side, I'm a passionate Art Nouveau, and related "turn of the century" styles. From here to some Art Deco, everything is fair game, but I do seek to stablish some reserved minimalism, maximizing of the space and decluttering as much as possible (though that's a challenge considering all my books and tchotchkes). So, I'm envisioning natural materials, lots of wood and wicker, flax and hemp, multifunctional, fold-back furniture, after all, the space is small. ^_^

Lessons of Proper

A lesson hard for me to learn is to "accept" or simply "tolerate" that there's people sharing the air and the Earth with me, who have so little sense of self, style or what I consider to be the basic rules of civilized behavior. Granted, I break those rules as well, but at least I do my best to keep within them. Yeah, sometimes I'm sloppy wheh I eat and the tomato falls of the buschettas I intend to eat, or I forget of myself, and read an SMS sent to me when I'm talking to someone else, or I forget that only because the person I'm talking to is disregarding the basic norms of courtesy, I take to myself to go ahead and forget of mine, while I should really stick to them no matter what. However, I know, rationally I know (and mainly because that's what every media source pours on us) that I should be accepting the fatc that there is uncivilized people, who thinks that "manners" are just a fancy word to design a group of actions and a way of behaving you take what you want to get something from someone. Of course there are different kinds of manners, and not all books of etiquette agree on the same things, and hell, I'm not even talking of etiquette when I admit I'm the less adequate in that area! I can hardly find myself around more than one fork, and when I see so many cuttlery on the table, I remember my mother's angry mumbling: "Capitalist pigs' behavior!" and "Krőzus!". Not like Socialist societies are not well mannered, but they are simply not elitist. I am, so there I go building up a whole system from scratch, fitting in elements from my own education.

There's a lot you go picking up from friends and acquintances, and God has blessed me with friends who have taught me a lot, and a family that has also given me good basis (even if I don't hit the measure with my Grandfather....). Among the things I have learned are:

1. Your guests are your full responsability. You are responsible of their constant entertainment, and well being while you host for them. They shan't move a finger to help, nor with cleaning, nor with arranging, nor with money. You must treat them like kings and queens and supply them everything they could need before they ask for it. If the have to ask for something (save the bathroom) you are not being a good enough host. If they have to bring something for their use (save absolutely personal stuff), you are not being a good host. Also, if you are a guest and you are to stay over and you bring something that could be supplied by your hosts, say a towel, or a blanket, you are offending them, because you are saying that you think they are simply not good enough to meet your needs. If you accept someone's hospitality, you must accept it in their terms. You don't ask, you don't bring, you don't rub your lifestyle in their nose.
2. A person must show cultural knowledge in philosophy, politics, art, wines and contemporary humanity. It doesn't mean to be fully lectured in all topics, though that's desirable, nor it means you have to exhaust them thought a conversartion, but these are the milestones of an intelligent conversation.
3. One must be always gathered and stay away from tacky comments, express one's ideas clearly and be open to discussion, defending one's position with rational, reasonable, well thought arguments, never hearsays or "X said so", and if one can't deffend one's position any longer, graciously decline and recognize the other party's better argumenting. Yet do it always in a gathered way.

The life we normally lead here detours us often to less proper ways, and well, it's not really okay, but maybe a little "leger" can be excused. Go a bit hectic, a bit "décontracté", a bit eclectic and give a bit more for freedom without really hurting basic courtesy. However, as life goes by, and as the middle class manners and the cheap "burgeois", and "new rich" style comes up, sickening manners take stage. An example of this are the "quota-parties". What is this?

Quota-Parties. Someone wants to throw a party for whatever reason. Mostly Baby Showers, bachelorette parties, wedding parties and all that useless crap. The latest trend in here is to send the invitation indicating the amount to pay. Oh, and over it comes the present. Aside from this breaking all the rules of hosting, I can't see why you must make a party that others will pay for you. If you can't afford it, don't organize it. A quota-party is basically as tasteless as telling your friends the kind of party you want for yourself, invite them with the implicit request of a present AND on top of that telling them all, that they are to pay for your party. Evidently, it would outrage anyone with a minimal sense of décor.

To my ultimate horror, this kind of party has become the norm. Some people even go as far as to put up "gift lists", withthe excuse of "making sure no one gives you the same thing more than once", or "so people give me what I want" or "make sure things go well with each other. Excuse me, but my common sense would tell me that if I'm so picky about things, I rather buy them myself and then kindly request my guests to please give me no presents, letting them know that their presence is all I want, or making sure the word goes around that I have bought everything, so greeting cards, sweets, wine, books and flowers will do. Or simply, get my things, and smile at the gifts I receive, whether I like them or not. So you get three irons and four wafflers. Well, you can always place them in the market, now don't you? Discreetly, of course, or give them away to charity. Sure a Church near you would know a lovely, family who could profit from it.

However, these things, this behavior is pety and disgusting. No self respecting person would conciously go into things like that, unless, of course, they are left with no dignity, and really, people with no dignity, with no pride are better of dead.



Saturday I took a break from the thesis researching in the afternoon, and headed to the movies. Nothing really in mind, but after talking to my youngest "son", Caesar, I kinda felt like going all the way to Escazú and watch this Viggo Mortensen movie called "Eastern Promises" (which I had already seen in DVD, and which I saw up to 2/3 while waiting for Shimmy Gin the other day). I knew my kid was there with his BF, ready to watch Mamma Mía, and I kinda felt really out of place, since it really, really felt liek crashing on their date, THOUGHT I was going to watch a completely different movie. Well Eastern Promises wasn't on schedule by the time I've got there, and though my son-in-law invited me to go with them to watch Mamma Mía (which thankfully was sold out), I ended up watching "I gonna MELT" Liam Neeson in Taken. The movie is hideous, I'm sorry to say that. Has a lot of good chunks and ideas, but it was poorly developped, which I would have never expected from a movie which had the colaboration of Luc Besson (Transporter, Transporter 2, Léon, Nikita, Banlieue 13, Kiss of the Dragon), BUT it has Liam "Hot Daddy" Neeson, so who is complaining!? ^_^ After the movies I ran som errands, checked with the boys (who were still in the movie theatre), and just when I was to sit on the floor and check books on the French aisle of my favorite Bookstore (there go my manners in favor of the more "hippy" attitude), I received "the call".

"Where are you?"

Well, I was lusting after Albert Camus and his "pest", but explaingi that would either be futile or regarded as unnecessarily snobish. (Usually I stare at these books and secretly read chunks of it, just to get the taste before I allow myself to fall into the temptation of buying them. Most of these are already in our library in Spanish, but the taste of French is so seductive, more than once I have walked out of the bookstore with an armfull of French books.) So I left my haven and went to my son and son-in-law. I did found it strange that they weren't together, but then I guessed my boy went to use the facilites. Two hours with coke and popcorn tend to do that. I was ready just to greet and flee, imagining my son was going to spend the night with his man, but to my surprise, it was "bye-bye" time for them. Uhh... something wrong, my children? Cryptic talking, pent up mood covered with a stretched thin smile. My boy was sent home by his man with a handshake. I couldn't stop but wonder if that handshake would be in place also if gay couples were as acepted as straight couples.

The day before I had a lovely meeting with my son-in-law, from whom I learned that he was not willing to educate my son, which was what I was hoping for. I knew he was going to confront him and test him to decide whether to keep him or discard him, and given the fact that my son was so happy about him, I wished with all my heart that he would keep him. Hope against all hope, for everything pointed towards my child's discarding. In a way, I checked up with both that day because I felt urged to make sure my kid is fine. Yeah, there goes the overprotective mother. Good thing I have not given birth to him, or I would suffocate him! In all honesty I feared my child was hurt, and something in his voice told me he wasn't fine. He told me he was tired, yet I still feared the confrontation went pear shaped for my boy. So, and knowing that my son-in-law's main complains with my son are his manners and his lack of class, I've decided to take to myself the parent role, the "master" role and start teaching my son on the proper ways of "class". It's not the first time I impart lessons on this subject, so I have a well honed way to do so. I told my child I'd love to go eat. He claimed not to be hungry, but he would go with me and maybe get a beverage. I smiled hiding a smirk. Things were about so slowly change, if I've got my way.

He went to the Food Court, but I detoured giving him his first lesson: "if one can, one shall rather eat in a decent place, not with the mob." We went thus to La Trattoria, where I ordered bruschettas and two glasses of red wine. I straightened my spine instinctively and brought my voice down a bit, somewhat lower and deeper that my chirper tone. I picked the wine, Chilean wine, and when the waiter was gone, I turned to my child ans seriously told him:

"One important thing you should know about wines is that Italian wines are bad. One must drink only French, Hungarian, Chilean, Argentinian or Spanish. And I'm not even so sure about Spanish."

We chatted a little and I made sure to use only proper words, chosing "gentleman" instead of the more coloquial "dude", when refering to some men I have met through my life. As the wine arrived, he was surprised it wasn't chilled, so I went explaining him a few things and taught him the basics of wine tasting. To my delight, the conversation elevated and we talked several topics on different opinion and human matters, which also allowed me to start planting in my son's mind some of the seeds of my own education. The night was love, and splendor. I worked to rip him away from his need to control his money, and did it, by taking the bill in each available chance with a smile, not looking at the amounts.

"Nonsense, Darling. Let your mother take care of this..."

I can't asure that my child has changed, since I know the process takes time, but it has pleased me greatly to see him elevate, in that moment, to a more relaxed, free and more intellectually open man, rather than the child soaked in the toxic ways of his environment, poisoned with money-hunger and senseless, pointless drama.

By today I sat down and thought: "I am not his real mother, and I should not be trying to influence him to live his life my way. He hasn't asked me to change him and so I shouldn't". But I must admit, that the prospect of helping my child to become a quality man who will stand his ground, pick and fight his battles and who will never be discarded on the grounds of his manners, but rather admired... is ever so seductive...

Vraiment « Décontracté »

Si mon français était mieux et mon clavier aurai tous les lettres et signes qu'on a bésoin de pour écrire en français, aujourd'hui j'écrirais mon entré en ce langue. Alors, comme mon français c'est vraiment pauvre, et aussi mon clavier hongrois, je va écrire, encore une fois en anglais.

Yes, yes, you are lucky and I'm feeling a bit..."bummed" that my French is still not enough for me to compose a decent, inspired, well written entry. I should really go back to pump it up to a nice, cool, decent level, but right now my mind is kind of on something else. Dude, something entirely else. First of all, I'm LOADED with coke-energy! Weeeeeeee-Heeeeeeee! Had a great Bagel-brealfast, and also pushed up working on the thesis. Got quite a break (well, quite compared to what we've got so far, which is basically ZILCH), and a part of it was thanks to the invaluable help of my one and only, beloved Brother. Man, I love my Brother so much! He's truly and honestly the best, even if back in time I wanted to get rid of him. My Brother is the coolest, best and greatest SIBLING in the whole wide universe. He's so cool, so cool, I actually pity the world for not having a brother as cool as my Brother. Dude, now that I think about it, my birth was kind of unfair for the world. I mean, I have a great mind, great looks, terrific personality, the best of nationalities, all the chances in the world, the greatest of careers, the best of friends and the best brother ever! Not to mention all these paired up with great parents, mindblowing analitical and creative skills, taste, sensitivity and a winner attitude.

I hope great features have many, many samples, otherwise... I've got the best of the world. Oh well, those less fortunate can always look up to me and daydream being me. ^_^

So, great break on the thesis. Hopefully the teacher-adviser will get it in time for tomorrow, to check it out and tell us whether we are heading down the right path or not. (Today after ages and ages of seeking, I've finally found the site of INCOPESCA!) It was a tricky one, but I made it. The "there waiting for me" book I've-almost-discarded-as-useless has proven to be more useful than I have thought. For instance, I had no idea that a lot of the fishes caught are discarded because they lack commercial value, or because fishers prefer to fill their limited onboard container space with more lucrative species. Naturally, that usually means that after the nets are gathered, a lot of dead fish get back to the ocean. Sure that ain't good, but then again these people are poor people, and they really have to decided whether to fill their containters with shrimps and fishes that can bring more bread to the table or go for what they can get in the shorter periods of time possible. A question arise to my mind now: boats gara move with some kind of fuel, and all these people are really, really poor people. No money for school or anything, so how are the fuel prices affecting them? Sure it does affect the time they spend on the sea, as well as how deep they can go, how far, and therefore, the fish-mix they get and the income product of it.

Anyway... anyway...

Anyway I was going to talk about something else, but don't really feel like it anymore. That's what happens when you don't finish a post at once.

I was... feeling like talking about style. Partly because I wished to "de-clutter" my mind from unpleasant topics, and partly because I was running on a coke-rush. Of course, at this time I'm more like "FUCK! What was I thinking! I gara finish this and that!" Which... ain't so lost in time, only I'd love to understand what has possessed me to decide to build it up on pps rather than ... doc... and leave the doc bones done. Sometimes I really have a difficult time understanding myself. Oh, no biggie, really. I may have to cancel some "after work appointments" in order to go home and make it in time, but nothing that "deadly".

This time, talking about "style" comes around the idea of talking about "space". It's truly hard for me to find on the net pictures of the kind of space that pleases me, but when I happened upon this picture, I found myself nodding. I wouldn't use a cow-fur rug, even if the pattern gives the precise "décontracté" air I love, mainly because I do not like that kind of pattern much, and I don't want my livingroom looking like some ranch inhabited by cowboys, and the "all the same whitish coloured walls" are not me either, but picture the structure. Cozy, eficient space use, making some sourt of "nukes", filled with soft furnitures and all kinds of soft textures... just add some tobacco or Siam cat brown to the walls, framed, large Art Nouveau paintings, black-n-white pictures on the side table, a long standing lamp and a beautiful Art Nouveau inspired lamp on a table. Velvet cushions in green, brown and silver and a whole air breathing a carefree spirit living in the middle of beauty and sophistication. Leather bound books where and there, soft jazz music pouring from some unseen sound equipment, more like someone practicing, rought in silence, like talking from an old record rather than disco-like surround system. Unseen tv... unseen modern appliances. Everything scratching and holding into the beginings of the XXth century. Wood and craftmanship. Nature and human forms flwoing together, relaxed and free. Drop your baggage carelessly and fill your lungs with air, shake your wings and fly, tiptoeing on the clounds and the grassblades.

That's the way my home feels. That's what I wish to fervently to go home.

Homesick

As I type now in English, I somehow hear myself not in my usual accent, but THINKING with the Hungarian accent. Not like I have managed it back, but my English sounds in my head with the hard Hungarian accent. My grandpa noted that my Hungarian has deteriorated notably. I knew that since I find talking entirely in Hungarian rather difficult and I feel constantly tempted to drive into English, plusz I'm stuck at many of the long words product of the composition of many sufixes. How can my own mothertongue become a tongue-breaker for me? It's sad.

His remark went not on the matter of my grammar (which is so poor it should be receiving some Government aid), or my reduced vocabulary, but my pronounciation and my marked accent. Well, a few days ago I received a comment I have never received before: a guy said he loved my "Spanish accent". I have been told I have "American Accent", but no one has ever accused me of Spanish accent. It was heartbreaking. I must, definitivelly practice more.

It's worrying, truth to be told, how I have emptied three debit cards already. Okay, I do have 280€ in my Euro account (for which I have a card), and then 200€ at my brand new account in my Hungarian account (in an Austrian bank, thank you), for which I still don't have a card, even though I do was charged with the 13,71€ it costs... (can take the money out from a teller...), BUT I don't have my cards otherwise with money. Not my "colón" cards. Hope I do have some money left though. I still need 6000.- Ft to leave my aunt enough to send my card after me. ( Okay, reality check: who feels poor with... 280+200+40= 520€? Oh yes, big spender me...)

I waked yesterday down Váci utca alone, looking for a fair of Hungarian artisans exposing their goods. The Váci utca (Váci street) is a very touristic street turned into a boulevar where you can find a lot of Hungarian goods, traditional styles (like the beautiful red coat you can see in the picture) for prices so high, only the megarich could pay... or the occasional tourist, who could think that a couat like that does worth 80.000 Ft (around 310€ or $465), being this a bargain price, as I do have seen a couple of these beautiful creations for around 345.000 Ft. (You do the maths.) The fair had better prices, and everything was incredibly beautiful. There were a few furs I was tempted to buy and I would have if I only had space to carry them home. The furs were soft, and I believe they where made of sheep or something like that. They looked particularly warm and soft in this chilly, -4°C.

There was a lot of people there, and the artisans made a great show. There was music, traditional music, traditional instrument, including a "doromb", which I was tempted, to buy, except I would have no way to explain that, no, that's not a weapon, but a musical instrument, regardless of the strange sound it makes. I felt drowned into the place, into the city and into the middle of so much gathered tradition. The more I stay here, the more I feel like I belong, and so I find myself looking around for an apartment, a place to start my life here. I know I'm not in my youngest, and really, I'm quite "over the hill" for many things, but this is where I want to be. I feel the wish and the "need" to be here, to come back to my home. I've made a resolution, which becomes more and more firm with time: I want to come back home, I want to live again and this time forever, in Hungary. This is my home.