screw it

I just made myself a healthy salad and ignored the pile of chocolate biscuits, therefore I deserve to sit in bed for the rest of the day cradling greek yogurt and watching Hairspray.

Hold your judgement, for I am a simple creature.

To the people

Of course I miss absolutely everybody I left behind in my funny ol' continent in the corner of the world.  I also miss family who I am constantly greeting, loving and leaving,  across many patches of the globe.  I miss old friends and family friends and family members far and wide, I frequently miss animals - two in particular - and I definitely know how to miss busses. 

But this is a post reserved for a special bunch. I miss them like there is something not quite full inside me. This is to the people who rode in cars with me, when it was hot outside and we had nothing to do. When we were playing that particular playlist that was on everyone's ipod, when we all sang along to the chorus of every song and made up most of the verses. And I miss leaning back in the front seat or the back, surrounded by you people who are always laughing with and at each other,  and feeling the sun on my face as we disturbed quiet suburban roads. And there was that deep feeling of contentment,  of being young and loved and very very free - and that's quite honestly one of the best feelings in the world.

So here's to you.  Call it an ode.  And don't say I never do anything for you.  To the people who rode in cars with me when it was hot outside and we had nothing to do. 

Montaunoux

We are walking upwards through cobbled streets, surrounded by the type of buildings I have come to expect by now in tiny and charming towns. There are the familiar narrow winding streets, colorful shutters, cobblestones and flowery balconies, but we are walking past them,  walking up towards the highest point in this small Southern town,  where "panoramas magnifiques" are promised. 
It's a church,  of course.  A small grassy hilltop with a square stone church and a view over countless brown tiled roofs. There are two children playing outside,  probably about three and five, and they tumble over each other in their striped pajamas,  mewing and giggling like countryside kittens. We smile at them with touristic affection and step into the church. 
The cool air settles on your skin. It's not very big inside, just a rectangular room with two chandeliers,  a grand piano in the corner and stacks of foldable chairs and tables against the furthest walls.  But looking up,  you feel a magic.  The plain wooden ceiling and plaster walls are covered in multitudes of paintings,  clearly  hand painted and in every color imaginable. Not only nativity figures peer down from the ceiling but also just peaceful faces of men and women, ordinary and angelic. There are three people in the building other than us and they are the caretaker and a French couple (the parents of the children outside), who are speaking in smooth, quiet voices. Then the man of the couple sits down at the piano and starts to play. 
And boy,  does your heart soar. 

Tidal waves of perfect sounds echo around the room, the highest notes quivering the crystals of the chandeliers, the lowest rumbling over the cool stone floor. His playing attracts the attention of his children, who run inside hand in hand, laughing. And I think, this music is too heavenly and this ceiling too beautiful and these curly haired children too much like cherubs and I am content in the rare joy of being in the right place at exactly the right time. 

Sometimes people are nice

Like yesterday. People were nice yesterday.

Example A. Being me, I was lost on a bus meant to be going to the pier. I tapped the guy in front of me on the shoulder and asked where I should be going, and he said that it was ten minutes back that way. Awesome, I said, so I got off at the next stop. He also got off at the next stop and offered to walk me there, giving me a tour of the things we went past and generally being nice. When we got to the pier, he bought me and the friend I was meeting there doughnuts, then just cheerfully went on his way. NICE.

Example B. The man in the hipster cafe in town made me very nice curly fries.

Example C. The lady in the pottery painting cafe was super friendly and didn't get annoyed even when we stayed until closing time.

So whenever it feels like the world is full of fuckwits, remember that sometimes they are nice fuckwits who are just having a bad day.

Brick Lane

Sweet lord, I love this place. I love that you can never be the weirdest dressed person on the street (back home, I'm usually pretty close). I love that there's street art on every corner, from an elephant with winding tentacles scaling a building, to a couple embracing in an abandoned doorway, sparks shooting from their eyes. I even like that you are borderline attacked every time you walk past an Indian restaurant. And the bagels - oh wow, the bagels. I am becoming bagel-obsessed. I am half bagel, half woman. Bagelism is my religion. I'm sorry. I'm tired.

Moral of the story: bagels.

Victoria, Albert & Me

The V&A is definitely one of my favourite museums and/or galleries in London. I love how the stunning interiors and exterior courtyard clash with the modern light fittings and foodhall. I love how they house everything from fashion to mechanics to renaissance art. I think sometimes it's forgotten about, especially seated opposite the massive natural history museum, but I can't help but love the space, and the time that seems to wallow endlessly in there.

There should be a word for needless anxiousness. You know that feeling of unease in your stomach that flutters away for days without any particular reason or purpose? Yeah I have a case of that. And today I found myself alone, with every family friend working or busy, every friend elsewhere and only my lonesome self to deal with. It made me realise how few minutes of alone-time I've had in the past few months, but for some reason this wasn't reassuring. I didn't want to be alone with only my irrationally-anxious thoughts rattling around my head. But I decided it was too unbearable a waste to ignore a free day in London, so I put myself together and set off on the tube to the V&A, feeling a little self-conscious and very alone - the way I often feel after spending all my time with people. I stopped for sushi and awkwardly dropped it all over my lap and glanced around to see if anyone noticed.

But then I stepped into the gallery.

To the right of the main foyer I found a nearly-empty room, massively tall and airy, and home to hundreds of beautiful classical sculptures. Cherubs cradled in their mothers' arms, nymphs and heroes wrestling each other on horses or swathed in silks - these beautiful figures had such an air of calm that I couldn't help relaxing. Still in their unwavering strength and beauty, they took me in. I was happy to be alone with them. I ended up buying a £2 sketchpad and pencil, sitting at their feet and trying to draw their features, and it filled me with such space and calm that I felt myself breathing and thinking 'yes, it's good to be alone'. No wonder they say art is good for the soul.