Weekendings
Weekends around here when Yoka is away are pretty quiet.
I often use the time to rest, read, organize and lately, to work on a book about the Mayans that I’m editing (52 pages done this weekend – yay!).
It's cozy. I burn incense, listen to acoustic guitar, light candles and drink tea or wine. These days,weekend social interactions are limited to a little shopping, perhaps a few phone calls to and from friends, and the occasional random caller who thinks that a great use of Skype is to call strangers and try to become best pals. By the way, it isn’t.
The point is, it’s pretty calm. Any of you thinking ‘yah, and pretty damn-ass boring’ would not be entirely incorrect.
As a social person by nature, I admit to having a love/hate relationship with how I spend my weekends lately… I crave companionship, but I’m also really reluctant to give up the solitude. I came to Europe for a European life (insert images of travel, exotic food and interesting people, about here)… and my life is interesting, just in a really quiet way lately.
Social life is different here and I don’t feel like it’s necessary to be out constantly. When I’m home alone, I’m really here. When I go out, I really go out. On Friday night, for example, I met my friend Veerle at a restaurant where we stayed talking, eating, drinking wine and laughing for almost 5 hours. This would be impossible back in Canada where the efficient hosts in even the best restaurants will start to politely encourage you to pay up and get the hell out after a couple of hours.
Anyway, no matter what else has been going on all weekend – Sunday nights at about 7pm, this is what our apartment suddenly looks like when Yoka returns:
YIKES... Blogger has a technical issue with pic uploading at the mo. So it's on you to imagine, if you will, a lovely, candlelit living room scattered with climbing ropes and belts, and neoprene gloves that don't lose their shape so that they appear to be trying to crawl across the floor to attack the mudspattered caving helmet. That's it. You got it
Yoka is a caver and spends entire weekends underground. She has various neoprene suits for diving in water-filled caves and heavy ‘dry-suits’ for, um, not diving in water-filled caves. The former get soaked and filthy, the latter get only filthy. It’s important to get everything dry as quickly as possible and the very best way to do this is to spread it all over the apartment. On Sunday nights our apartment looks like the scene of a terrible caving accident.
Don't look now, but is that a headless miner on our balcony?
(note: If blogger pic upload was working, that last comment would be really funny! Sigh....)
Weekends around here when Yoka is away are pretty quiet.
I often use the time to rest, read, organize and lately, to work on a book about the Mayans that I’m editing (52 pages done this weekend – yay!).
It's cozy. I burn incense, listen to acoustic guitar, light candles and drink tea or wine. These days,weekend social interactions are limited to a little shopping, perhaps a few phone calls to and from friends, and the occasional random caller who thinks that a great use of Skype is to call strangers and try to become best pals. By the way, it isn’t.
The point is, it’s pretty calm. Any of you thinking ‘yah, and pretty damn-ass boring’ would not be entirely incorrect.
As a social person by nature, I admit to having a love/hate relationship with how I spend my weekends lately… I crave companionship, but I’m also really reluctant to give up the solitude. I came to Europe for a European life (insert images of travel, exotic food and interesting people, about here)… and my life is interesting, just in a really quiet way lately.
Social life is different here and I don’t feel like it’s necessary to be out constantly. When I’m home alone, I’m really here. When I go out, I really go out. On Friday night, for example, I met my friend Veerle at a restaurant where we stayed talking, eating, drinking wine and laughing for almost 5 hours. This would be impossible back in Canada where the efficient hosts in even the best restaurants will start to politely encourage you to pay up and get the hell out after a couple of hours.
Anyway, no matter what else has been going on all weekend – Sunday nights at about 7pm, this is what our apartment suddenly looks like when Yoka returns:
YIKES... Blogger has a technical issue with pic uploading at the mo. So it's on you to imagine, if you will, a lovely, candlelit living room scattered with climbing ropes and belts, and neoprene gloves that don't lose their shape so that they appear to be trying to crawl across the floor to attack the mudspattered caving helmet. That's it. You got it
Yoka is a caver and spends entire weekends underground. She has various neoprene suits for diving in water-filled caves and heavy ‘dry-suits’ for, um, not diving in water-filled caves. The former get soaked and filthy, the latter get only filthy. It’s important to get everything dry as quickly as possible and the very best way to do this is to spread it all over the apartment. On Sunday nights our apartment looks like the scene of a terrible caving accident.
Don't look now, but is that a headless miner on our balcony?
(note: If blogger pic upload was working, that last comment would be really funny! Sigh....)
posted by Penless Artist at 11:08 p.m.
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