Hergest Ridge

I was going to sit here in quiet and catch up on my work, but a couple electricians arrived and are hammering the other side of the wall to get wires out. Now I just want to go postal and enjoy the moment of silence before the sirens start in the distance.

Over the last week, there’s been a lot of noise from dogs, drunks, homeless thieves, renovations on the floor above and across the street. It’s driving me to a frustration level I’ve last experienced from the noise in Turkey.

Since going postal would have many negative consequences that I would prefer to avoid, I am switching my music to something I am going to enjoy but the worker outside my door will likely want to get away from as quickly as possible.

“Czy wie pan gdzie jest zielony dom studencki?”
Pytający wyglądał bardzo ciekawo. Śiwa bródka, czapka jak z Syberii. Ciągnął za sobą walizkę, taką sobie średnią, czarną. A reszta całkiem normalnie – ogólnie wyglądał bardzo inteligentnie, i tak około pięćdziesiątki.

Życie pulsuje tutejszymi ulicami. Trochę wcześniej w kolejce po wódkę, przed mną była para z Rosji. Przed nimi dwie studentki mówiły po hiszpańsku. W tej dzielnicy jeśli nie możesz się dogadać po polsku, najlepiej znać hiszpański. W piątki i soboty, na ulicach można dostać wrażenie że się jest we Włoszech.

Dziś był super dzień, a tak ogólnie bez żadnego wielkiego powodu. Kilka małych zdarzeń w perfekt chwilach. I zmieniam zdanie na temat mojej ulubionej pory roku: w Winnipegu, dalej owszem jesień. We Wrocku, wiosna, wiosna, wiosna.

It isn’t an ID that defines a writer, but what he has written! How can you know what ideas are fermenting in my brain? — Korovyov in Master and Margarita, by Mikhail Bulgakov

Bulgakov is a master. I imagine him a conjurer whose words have the inborn ability to turn the world into new arrangements, like a turning kaleidoscope – what ever the chaos in the shifting of the pieces, it all just falls into place.

In today’s class a student started coughing violently, turned red, stopped breathing long enough for me to wonder if she’d resume again, and then resumed coughing again – all while I sat there feeling very inadequate in the situation, with no one else around to witness or step in.

I had enough time to think of the four long flights of stairs I’d need to cover on my way down before reaching the office for help, and the long trip back up with someone that knows what to do. The odds were the child would not walk out of that classroom by her own strength, in fact quite likely that she’d never walk out of anywhere, ever again.

Slowly she got better all on her own, but the entire episode lasted long enough for me to realise that I should take a first-aid course.

My cousin and I spent four hours this afternoon talking in German, eating french toast with honey and this morning’s fresh cake, drinking cups of coffee and tea, watching music clips, and smoking cigarettes (regulars, but when you squeeze the filter, voila, you have a menthol kind!)

Today I asked my cousin if she’s hungry for french toast and if she even knew what french toast is. She said she loves french toast. And when I told her that I have no syrup so we’ll have to eat it savoury or with honey, she said honey is all she ever eats it with. Nice. :)

I had wondered the night before if anyone in Poland even knows about french toast. As I ate it last night (my diet does lack a certain aspect of variety,) dipping it in honey, I figured I was probably the only person in Poland to be doing so.

Sarah is back from Spain (her last name is Platt, and so naturally we’re all wanting to call her Sylvia,) and so I’m done subbing her early morning and evening classes – more time to sleep in the mornings.

One of my happy friends after engagement.
I love this photo.