Sevilla, 19 November 2009

dominika y jose, originally uploaded by great_roe.

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Mystery of the Balsamic Vinegar Bottle

I am a rebel. More. I am a drunk. Or at least this is how I am perceived by a cleaning lady at my office.
She is always very well hidden behind her hijab, and at the beginning I was fascinated and maybe a bit too interested in how she could work in these clothes. Apparently, she can.

A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting by my desk and trying to summon all my intellectual power to write a very complicated report. I was so focused on my screen that I didn't notice that somebody entered the room. Suddenly, a cold voice from behind me asked: "What is THIS?" I jumped on my chair scared to death! A mysterious figure, all covered in black was standing right behind me holding triumphantly an empty bottle I left in my bin after lunch.
"Is this ALCOHOL?" - she asked with the same cold voice.
Finally, I recognised our cleaning lady!
"No, it's balsamic vinegar" - I said with a big smile.
"What?" A complete lack of understanding in her eyes made me realise that she wasn't joking. A quick analysis of the situation helped me realise that I was being investigated after daring to commit a horrible crime.
"This is balsamic vinegar... [same condemning face] eee, salad dressing". Nothing. She stopped listening, placed the bottle on my desk and left my room.

For the next week, I couldn't stop thinking about it, but then as it always happens, I just forgot about it. Until last Friday:

I was in the bathroom brushing my hair and the same woman was cleaning sinks behind me. Suddenly, she asked: "Is this soap with ALCOHOL?" pointing at the plastic providers with super-strong alcohol-based gel. This time she was clearly worried and her voice was really sad.
She didn't know that on that day, we had all received an email explaining that swine flue had become a pandemic in Birmingham, and from now on we were all supposed to use this gel to limit the spread of the virus.
I made an enormous effort, stopped all my face muscles and... with a very serious face explained the situation to the poor woman who (to my surprise) listened carefully and nodded. When I finished, she took the provider and moved it into the far corner and came back to cleaning with a very sad face.

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In June newspapers reported that a Taliban fighter was found with an Aston Vila tattoo on his arm.

This Taliban fighter could have been her husband. Maybe somebody couldn't explain to him the mystery of a balsamic vinegar bottle? Maybe it's impossible to explain that?

Jelly jazz

There was a jazz festival in our city last week.

There was a Latin-American Festival as well, and as much as we both like Latin-American stuff, this festival was crap. It had one hilarious moment though, when my poor husband was forced to dance bachata with hundreds of other women. The hilarity of our failure lies in the fact that the idea was to go for a romantic night out and dance dance dance to make up for my non-dancing knee recovery period. We only managed to dance together once. Very Machiavellian of me, so to say.
Not that we suffered that night, we had our laugh after the party! and... we know how to dance bachata now! Priceless :P

Anyway. The jazz festival is what I wanted to share with you, as its phenomenon doesn't cease to amaze me. This could be one of the best events in the city, providing... that there were good music played.
The idea for the event is great, namely to put bands in unexpected places, like train stations, city buses, shopping centres, farmers' markets, pubs etc. and let them play for as long as they want. What a genius approach. And all that for free all week long!
Perfection, isn't it? Except that the jazz bands are of average quality. And if there is someone good (by pure luck), they are usually playing in the most obscure places and at outrageous hours, like the Shuffling Hungarians who made my day walking along just outside my office windows on Tuesday morning.

I didn't manage to take too many pictures, but one of my favourites was taken during the first concert we went to:

It's not a good picture (I don't think I have to flag it up) but it was such a sweet scene that I couldn't imagine a sweeter one. Becky Brine was standing surrounded by candy and observed by a big statue of a bull built out of jelly beans. She has a good voice, and Ella songs didn't make me scream (as for Ella covers, it's rare). So I had my sweet moment of joy, and I really mean it.
If I can't have The Lounge Lizards, The Cinematic Orchestra or Skalpel playing for free under my window, I can always focus on jellies (which I love with a dark love that leads to sickness and sweet, sweet suffering).

Brussels

I never liked Brussels. In my head it was a city for desperate career seekers and divorcees or divorcees to be.
To do it justice I must say, it is a beautiful city, a jigsaw of old and new.

Warsaw - Paris - London

My life has been crazy for the last two months. Too much traveling, certainly. Not that I complain, but I just couldn't bring my thoughts together in this carousel and write something here.

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Warsaw:

Much missed faces, not enough time for everybody, just enough to exchange a joke or two and run to another meeting. Interesting, the kind of pictures you see when you look so briefly. It's like looking at escaping images and trying to appreciate them, but not being able to run fast enough to even catch sight of the details. After a couple of days like that you stay exhausted and empty, missing people even more than you missed them before.

It was great to meet with everybody, though. Good to see my family and both little nephews for the first time.

Speaking of family - all my family is quite good at cooking. I mean, we all like it, but everybody has a different exquisite approach. THIS is my brother cooking:

One funny observation about traveling in Poland is how quickly you can switch from left-had driving into right-hand driving and back. And even funnier, how easily you can get confused with that a month later without any reason in a middle of a roundabout.

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Paris:

I promised to write something about cycling in Paris, as this was an awesome experience. Everybody who visited Paris would agree that taking the metro there is a rather unpleasant experience. Especially if you want to know the city better, that's not the best way. Which is why this brilliant idea of building car parks (well, bicycle parks in fact, but I'm not sure this is a legitimate word) every 300 meters all over Paris totally blew our minds.
What's more, everybody can take a bike (Velib) after paying one Euro and cycle wherever they want. And you can be sure that no mater how far you ride, you will find a place where you can park your steed. What's more, there are cycling lanes and dedicated paths everywhere.

Can't wait for this system to be introduced in London!

For those with strong nerves (and Polish speakers, apologies, it's too embarrassing to translate it) check what are the Polish politicians' views on cycling in Warsaw.

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London:

Thanks Aga for making me a part of the family!




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Tomorrow, I'll be in Brussels.

make it work

zapraszam do manufaktury

a oni szli

St Patrick's parade took our street by force.

There was Birmingham Lord Mayor on the top of an old blue bus, children and lots of other extraordinary creatures.

And more, and more, and more...

On stage

Freshblood Cabaret, Leamington Spa, last Sunday.

the discoverer

For the last year (yeah, it's been a year since we've moved here), I had a little obsession about the canal. I really wanted to find the gate which I knew was somewhere close to our house, but I couldn't. And then, one day I had a stroke of genius and just turned right where I never turned before. And it was there! My beautiful escape from busy streets and unfriendly drivers.

Come jogging with me:

the impossible

it's been a week since we left nyc and i still cannot wrap it up. not that i claimed to do it

but imagine a nyc wrapped in a pattern paper and given as a gift - i know, i'm getting greedy, but heh, if i ask my husband nicely...


now it's more of a declaration, right?

for:
details

colours

did i say details and colours?
vintage twist

cliche shots

stylish (and spacious!) welcome
bowery and nuyorican on the same day with patricia field's store as a little bonus

cycling over the brooklyn bridge

second hand bookstores (yes, i mean bookstores)

cottage cheese burgers

neverwhere

four-wheeled black horses

a little bit of keith haring

and finally, the most important - food for my brain, mood for my soul

this three-week washington chill-out and the three-day new york fever forced me to say yes, the only question is: when?