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Why am I surprised whenever something fun happens in this town? #part2

Maki time

1. Ingredients. This time it was tuna&mayonnaise, smoked (Scottish?) salmon, cucumber and fried egg.

2. Pressing. Rice should cover about half of the nori seaweed up to the edges.

Definitely the trickiest (and stickiest) part.

3. Assembling and trying out different combinations. 
Tuna&mayo, egg, cucumber and sesame was my favourite.

4. Rolling. Very hard to do without a Japanese rolling mat.

5. Maki sausage ready to be sliced.

6. Ta-da!

After this finger licking (literally, blame it on the rice!) Japanese dinner, we decided to get some ice cream. M., the only Japanese in the house, decided he had had enough "exotic" food and went for something "local": caramel ice cream with fleur de sel from Piran :)

Žabe, žabe...

Why am I surprised whenever something fun happens in this town?

Points of view and schools of thought

Talking to my parents: 

"This time things are more complicated than I thought."

Mom (the optimist): "Don't worry, it will work out. It always does."

Dad (the pessimist): "Well, things are really not looking that good. You are leaving in ten days and there are still so many unresolved issues..."

Me (the realist?): "Let me annoy the Ministry of Transport to death. Then we'll talk about it." 

Back to reality

And it's harder than I thought. Everyone likes fairytales, don't we? If you ask me, every wedding is a fairytale and as such it is absolutely perfect. Promising that you'll stick with someone no matter what and that you'll always be there for them is no easy thing nowadays. 

A fairytale in the making: the bride, the groom and the Danube 

This was the first wedding at which I didn't cry, mainly because I don't understand a word of Hungarian. I like going to Hungary precisely because I give my brain a chance to relax. I can't read any of the signs (apart from "open" and "closed") and I can only say "hi!", "thank you", "how are you?" and "good night". I can't make any connections with the languages I know because there are none (apart from the days of the week, which are almost the same in Slovene and in Hungarian - probably because of Russian - and some food names e.g. kolač). 

Although it was a short holiday. I've realised I quite enjoy spending time with my parents. We haven't been on a proper holiday together for a very long time. Usually I force them to follow me and help me move in/move out from a place. This time I wanted us to have a nice time together so I took care of the planning. They still had to drive there and back, but other than that they could just relax. 

I also realised that some things never change. If you are really close to someone, you might not see them for almost a decade, but the moment you see each other again, you just forget about the time that passed. There we were, all four roomates together again. 

2006

2015

A. arrived late as usual and missed the wedding ceremony (so typical of her! :)

R. was stubborn and funny as usual and her wheelchair driving skills were still impressive.

Z., the bride, was loving and caring, although I almost ran over her dress a couple of times. She admitted that my wheeling around was on her list of nightmare wedding scenarios :)

I was the one who "told our Biology teacher we had a good reason for being late for class: it was St. Nicholas day and we had been opening presents", "never took showers" (disclaimer: I have never been dirty or smelly, I was just environmentally aware :) and "was always hitting on handsome guys" (with a very high failure rate, I may add - see pic below).

We definitely were the most talkative, happiest and noisiest table in the whole restaurant and the first to join the bride on the dancefloor after the first dance. It was only after realising that the music we liked the most were songs from the 80s, 90s and early 2000s that we were forced to accept the fact that we are not 17 anymore. 

Darn! I missed it again! ;)

A picture-esque weekend

It's hard to keep running regularly (and efficiently) in this heat. The only solution is to wake up extra early and make the most of the morning peace and quiet.

So on Saturday morning I got up early (thank you for the inspiration, J. :). By 6 am I was already rolling up and down the empty streets in the pleasant morning chill. No heat, no traffic, but what's even more important, no passers by asking me if I need help because the only other people on the road were runners or cyclists. I even managed to fit in some stop&go exercises in an otherwise noisy and crowded playground, practise some quick turns and stretch.

By 10 am I had managed to:
- run and exercise
- do the dishes while listening to the news (x3)
- have breakfast in my favourite cafe while reading Murakami's 1Q84
- go for a long walk and enjoy the amazing view while sobbing ("Oh, I love this town" Mind you, this only happens when I am about to leave)
- buy the newspaper and skim through it
- scan documents and send them to Lux

How many more things could we get done if only we managed to get up early enough? I have a friend who is so busy that he only sleeps three hours a night. He seems to be fine, but I doubt you can do it for a long time. I keep wanting to read a book by an ultra-marathon runner who ran through the desert and apparently survived by only sleeping for 20 minutes at a time.

And it got even better. I got home after the run and found this in the mailbox.

Seeing my name next to the English version makes me giggle because it was more like a four-hand job (M., you're one of the very few people who knows exactly how my brain works...and yet you decided to be my friend. Cheers, hen!)

And then...

Round courgettes. Aren't they cute? 

Rdeče češnje rada jem! In mamin okras: štiriperesna deteljica

Murakami in my back garden, which I am redescovering these days

Fighting

Sometimes we are at loss for words. Some things should be kept private, but I just need to clear my ideas so I am putting them down on (virtual) paper.

A friend of mine has brain cancer. She's had it for a year now. After the diagnosis doctors said she won't live for more than three months. I remember talking to her before leaving for Lux and saying: "I'll see you when I come home for Christmas" and her going: "Let's hope so". Half a year on she's still alive and fighting like a lion.

At first, the tumor was too big to be removed. It then decreased in size (something unprecedented, the doctors said) and my friend was operated. After surgery she lost sight on one eye and could not move her right leg. She went through chemotherapy, radiotherapy and what have you. She ended up in a wheelchair for a while. Three months ago she was on crutches, now she walks normally. She's a real fighter.

The experimental cure she underwent as part of the cancer treatment damaged her left lung. She's left with less then half of it now and needs a new one. The problem is she is struggling to find a donour because she's blood type 0 - and it's hard to find a compatible donour. For someone to be compatible, they would need to be blood type 0- and about the same age as her.

Since I saw her yesterday, I've been wondering if she'll ever find a donour. I've been asking myself to what lengths people are ready to go to help another human being and wether we really are human and humain beings.

The reason why I just cannot stop thinking about it is that she is 27. Just like me. And blood type 0-. Just like me.

Happily ever after?

Shit happens. And when it does, it happens right on your head. Ah, pigeons! I had to spend the evening with pigeon shit all over my hair/shirt/handbag. I think it happened because it was the first time in ages I went into town by bus.

Every bus ride is an adventure in Trieste. This time it went well overall. It's a shame that on the way back the driver stopped right in front of a pole. As I tried to get off the bus I almost fell off my wheelchair because of course I was trying hard no to crush into the pole. A girl came over to help me but there just wasn't enough room. Finally, an Indian guy came to give us a hand and between the three of us we somehow managed to put the wheelchair back on solid ground. I thanked my helpers with a smile and kept rolling.

I was sweaty, dirty and slightly annoyed at Italian drivers. As I get to a crossroads, I hear someone say to me: "Hey, you there. I waiting for you. You very nice." There he was, my helper, who kept going: "You very nice. When you go town, you call me I come and I help you. You go wherever, I help you. You really very nice."

Now, isn't that what every woman wants? To be told that she's nice even if she's got bird poo all over her hair and she is sweating like a rhino? I wasn't moved by the fact that he told me I was nice. I knew for a fact that I wasn't and really didn't care. What really upset me was that he clearly wasn't flirting, he was just lonely and wanted to make friends and learn Italian ("What is now? Buona sera or buona notte?" he asked me). I happened to be the only one who smiled at him on that bus. When he asked me for my phone number I was taken aback and gave it to him (what a silly thing to do!). He said: "Thank you, I am Sony, I'll call you dopo."

I really hope that my Prince Charming from the East who rides buses instead of white horses finds more people who will smile at him in this crazy town. As for me, I'd better go take a shower.

It Lux like I'll be back!

Moien!

Po jutru se dan pozna. Il buongiorno si vede dal mattino.

Serious flat hunting activity under way (again!). Keep your fingers and toes crossed, please!

Summertime addictions

Summer is finally here. I can smell it, I can feel it on my skin (gosh, it's hot!). It's usually quite hot roasting in my flat but, although I have air conditioning (my parents insisted on installing it), I don't like using it. Firstly, because I keep getting the heating and cooling buttons mixed up and I always run the risk of making the situation even worse. Secondly, because I think it's a real waste of energy. I mean, we've got curtains, we've got showers and we've got the sea nearby. Who needs bloody AC?

The heat may be annoying for the body, but it's good for the brain. My brain seems to be finally unfreezing...and it feels really good (the scribbling is just as bad as it used to be years ago, though :).

I admit, rolling in the heat is quite a challenge and I think I look even more in need of help than I used to under normal weather conditions. Due to a couple of minor accidents my left elbow is now the size of a tennis ball, which of course does not make a good impression on worried passers by (reminder to self: consider buying elbow pads or start attending wheelchair freestyle classes). But hey, it's scientifically proven than running is addictive - there's nothing I can do about it. 

Recently I also seem to have developed another addiction. Friends visiting me are visibly shocked at the sight of what look like two full bottles of alcohol on my kitchen table. 

Our conversation usually goes along these lines:

Visitor: "I see you had a party last night. Good for you!"
Me: "No, I actually didn't. I was by myself."
Visitor: "Oh...I see...but you know, you shouldn't be drinking by yourself. I can come over and we can have a chat and a drink or two."
Me (slightly confused): "Ok, that'd be nice, although I have to admit I've been quite tired at night recently. Often I don't even feel like having dinner."
Visitor (starts panicking): "Hm...remember, never drink on an empty stomach. And always start with the less alcoholic drink, never the other way around."

Never judge a bottle by its label. What looks like grappa and expensive white wine is actually tap water and elderberry syrup :))))

Sincerely yours,

D. The drunkard