People spend an awful lot of time being negative about others- and the reason why I know this, is because I am one of those people. However, I don't believe it is all nearly as negative and hateful as we sometimes make it out to be.
Beauty and love for others can be found at the weirdest of places! And yes, to asnwer the question which you've been wondering about since you read the title, toilets are one of those places.
The beauty of life is found in toilets. How many times i've sat on the can, doing my business, and time and time again, i discover that I am seeing love right in front of me. By far, what people write about the most on the door of the loos, is "I love....", or "A+C= <3".
And these love letters are not a privilege of one country: they can be found equally as often in The Soak in Birmingham, in bars in Sofia, in bars in Brussels, in clubs in Holland, in restaurants in Ukraine!
I challenge you to notice them. If you have any pictures, I will post them here, too. And, i wonder, how many of you have already written such love letters, about your crush, your best friend, your partner?
Friday, 30 September 2011
Wednesday, 7 September 2011
Before you die
One thing you should do before you die, one among many things, is to go dancing- dance your heart out- so much so that you can't take a breath but you continue dancing! Going clubbing, where the music takes over and you're suddenly dancing on top of the bar, you're getting people cheering, you're getting free drinks, dancing with the bartender, throwing napkins (a new Dutch thing I discovered tonight), getting carried away... you have to do it at least once in your life.
It will give you the energy to carry on. I couldn't have had a better night.
Yours, and thank you for reading,
R.
It will give you the energy to carry on. I couldn't have had a better night.
Yours, and thank you for reading,
R.
Sunday, 7 August 2011
Bottles
It is just before 1 o'clock in the morning, D and I are sipping tea at home after coming back from a dinner party at a friends' home. We had a hearty, warm, bubbly time with another couple. As we sip pur Earl, I hear a noise. Upon seeing the reason for it, I call D to come see, it's exciting!
For the first time, I see the big truck which tips over the blue container and bottles of all shapes and colours pour on top of other bottles of various shapes and colours. They are recycling. I remember someone telling me that there was no point in recycling because everything goes to the same place, mixed up. In their face, wherever they are. The recycling truck was strangely charismatic, it carries symbolical power, and I invested a little bit of an emotional meaning in it too. As I saw it move down the street, I felt a strange comfort and my street suddlenly takes on human characteristics, at least to me- it is a clean, smiling, happy street.
For the first time, I see the big truck which tips over the blue container and bottles of all shapes and colours pour on top of other bottles of various shapes and colours. They are recycling. I remember someone telling me that there was no point in recycling because everything goes to the same place, mixed up. In their face, wherever they are. The recycling truck was strangely charismatic, it carries symbolical power, and I invested a little bit of an emotional meaning in it too. As I saw it move down the street, I felt a strange comfort and my street suddlenly takes on human characteristics, at least to me- it is a clean, smiling, happy street.
Monday, 1 August 2011
Families
My wife and I were enjoying a lovely time at a rock bar at the seaside. 12 shots for 5 euro. Or 10 lev. The sounds of familiar songs made the blood in our veins dance, our voices- sing out loud and our lips- smile.The singer was young, cheerful, and incredibly charming. The guitarist had a shaved head, smoking guitar moves and was clearly in a good mood, loving his job. Birdwatchers. Shots went in easy yet left us surprisingly unharmed.
The guitarist, inbetween songs introduced the girl, not older than 19, to be his daughter- Kremena. My reaction to this moment is one of respect and joy. Too many are the people around me who barely respect their parents, let alone speak to them. Families of people close to me are torn or in denial for reasons that should never have such power. Having had a close bond with my own father, I felt their connection to almost be personal to me, it reminded me of the voyages with my father to Albania,to the seaside, to Spain. Our similar take on life has always been clear and to see another relationship as close, one where they work together and smile so much in each other's company, that was something that put an unexpectedly memorable spin on the night.
And now, the new BLOG CHALLENGE- can you spot the WORD? Or can you give me a word, quircky enough, which I will include at a random place in one of the next articles?
The guitarist, inbetween songs introduced the girl, not older than 19, to be his daughter- Kremena. My reaction to this moment is one of respect and joy. Too many are the people around me who barely respect their parents, let alone speak to them. Families of people close to me are torn or in denial for reasons that should never have such power. Having had a close bond with my own father, I felt their connection to almost be personal to me, it reminded me of the voyages with my father to Albania,to the seaside, to Spain. Our similar take on life has always been clear and to see another relationship as close, one where they work together and smile so much in each other's company, that was something that put an unexpectedly memorable spin on the night.
And now, the new BLOG CHALLENGE- can you spot the WORD? Or can you give me a word, quircky enough, which I will include at a random place in one of the next articles?
Friday, 22 July 2011
tunes
My partner and I were having our first meal in Venice, where I had taken him for our 1st anniversary/his birthday. We were excited, in love and more importantly-hungry! As the waiter passed slyly between the tables, a song came up, I hummed and overheard him hum too. We both hummed the same tune. This is all I want to write about today. I felt an enormous connection with a person I had never met!
The connection that, while brief, was based on similarity of taste and emotion for a fraction of time at a same geographical place.This moment is the reason why I am more aware people around me- I now look for such seconds of similarity, they give one special joy, if you're "in tune" with these around you.
To put this in context, at this very moment, I am listening to Frank at 2 am...
The connection that, while brief, was based on similarity of taste and emotion for a fraction of time at a same geographical place.This moment is the reason why I am more aware people around me- I now look for such seconds of similarity, they give one special joy, if you're "in tune" with these around you.
To put this in context, at this very moment, I am listening to Frank at 2 am...
Sunday, 29 May 2011
Waiting for the train
I walked up to the kiosk on Selly Oak train station to get tickets for the train, a return to Birmingham New Street, with a student railcard. 1.25. I recognised the vendor, I'd seen him many times: middle aged man, shaved bold, with Kippah.
"So where did you get these glasses then?", he asks.
I am wearing my bright red glasses.
"Birmingham, Oasis market." He likes them. Says he has the same but he uses them for night driving, and the feew times he got pulled over for driving with sunglasses in the dark, policemen actually end up agreeing with him. We talk for a few minutes, and I couldn't have enjoyed our small talk more- talking with strangers always give me such pleasure- we talk about age and how he is often mistaken to be the son of his brother, who is in fact 10 years younger than Bret, that is his name, I see it on his name tag. No such chance with me, I jest, my sister is indeed 12 years younger than me, just 10.
The next thing he said, floored me. He said, if he still had all his kids, the oldest would be 31 and the youngest-10. He doesn't. His wife and 5 of his kids were killed by Christian Orthodox and he's buried them in Jerusalem. More people come into the train station now and they need his attention, to get their tickets. Arguably, a perfect time, as I realise I don't know what to say but "I am so sorry". He says such is life. Or the worst timing- he has just told his life-story to a stranger he may remember he has sold tickets to a few times. I enter the train, confused and touched by a story told by a stranger.
______________________________________________
The second time I talk to Bret was about a month after the first one, I've recently retured from Sophia where I spent Easter. I see him, he is in the kiosk, looking at his phone. He says hi, I smile. I suggest I go to the vending machine, if he is busy- the station is empty anyway. He puts the phone away and waves me to come over. He notices my hair colour is different, which is more than I can say about some of my close friends, he likes the red. Thank you. What Bret was looking at, on his phone, was a photo of his youngest, a 10 year old girl. He shows me a picture of her in a dress, preparation for a wedding. It is the only time he can get her to wear a dress, otherwise she prefers dungarees. I, again, compare her to my sister, who my father is worried about, because she hangs out too much with the boys and the short hair and constant trousers don't help. I have dungarees too and I've never been a girly girl. Hopefully, he won't be too bothered if his girl turns out to be a lesbian, I jokingly think to myself.
These conversations have made a difference to me. They are honest. Conversations with strangers are genuine and powerful, and to me, it seems sad that most of us avoid to share a moment with a stranger, out of some misunderstood social programming that strangers are bad. After all, strangers have the best candy.
"So where did you get these glasses then?", he asks.
I am wearing my bright red glasses.
"Birmingham, Oasis market." He likes them. Says he has the same but he uses them for night driving, and the feew times he got pulled over for driving with sunglasses in the dark, policemen actually end up agreeing with him. We talk for a few minutes, and I couldn't have enjoyed our small talk more- talking with strangers always give me such pleasure- we talk about age and how he is often mistaken to be the son of his brother, who is in fact 10 years younger than Bret, that is his name, I see it on his name tag. No such chance with me, I jest, my sister is indeed 12 years younger than me, just 10.
The next thing he said, floored me. He said, if he still had all his kids, the oldest would be 31 and the youngest-10. He doesn't. His wife and 5 of his kids were killed by Christian Orthodox and he's buried them in Jerusalem. More people come into the train station now and they need his attention, to get their tickets. Arguably, a perfect time, as I realise I don't know what to say but "I am so sorry". He says such is life. Or the worst timing- he has just told his life-story to a stranger he may remember he has sold tickets to a few times. I enter the train, confused and touched by a story told by a stranger.
______________________________________________
The second time I talk to Bret was about a month after the first one, I've recently retured from Sophia where I spent Easter. I see him, he is in the kiosk, looking at his phone. He says hi, I smile. I suggest I go to the vending machine, if he is busy- the station is empty anyway. He puts the phone away and waves me to come over. He notices my hair colour is different, which is more than I can say about some of my close friends, he likes the red. Thank you. What Bret was looking at, on his phone, was a photo of his youngest, a 10 year old girl. He shows me a picture of her in a dress, preparation for a wedding. It is the only time he can get her to wear a dress, otherwise she prefers dungarees. I, again, compare her to my sister, who my father is worried about, because she hangs out too much with the boys and the short hair and constant trousers don't help. I have dungarees too and I've never been a girly girl. Hopefully, he won't be too bothered if his girl turns out to be a lesbian, I jokingly think to myself.
These conversations have made a difference to me. They are honest. Conversations with strangers are genuine and powerful, and to me, it seems sad that most of us avoid to share a moment with a stranger, out of some misunderstood social programming that strangers are bad. After all, strangers have the best candy.
Thursday, 14 April 2011
Little Pleasures
I've just come back home.
Tonight I went out with a friend, we played pool, I won. We then went to his place to watch Cincinatti Kid, Steve McQueen was indeed kind of awesome. On the way home I noticed it was snowing! Yes, snowing, in april, in Sophia. So curious! And in two months it will be so hot your brains will melt. I walked on the way home, I took advantage of the modernisation of technology by putting my music on loudspeaker, listened to it and hummed. Already climbing the 4 floors of my building, I kep singing and dancing, thinking of the beatiful and curious snow.
I just wanted to share the little beauties of life, the ones we almost miss. I hope you don't miss them.
Tonight I went out with a friend, we played pool, I won. We then went to his place to watch Cincinatti Kid, Steve McQueen was indeed kind of awesome. On the way home I noticed it was snowing! Yes, snowing, in april, in Sophia. So curious! And in two months it will be so hot your brains will melt. I walked on the way home, I took advantage of the modernisation of technology by putting my music on loudspeaker, listened to it and hummed. Already climbing the 4 floors of my building, I kep singing and dancing, thinking of the beatiful and curious snow.
I just wanted to share the little beauties of life, the ones we almost miss. I hope you don't miss them.
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