"...queria um chà, alstublieft..."

tea time: 5pm sharp

2008-10-15T07:28:00.004+01:00

Sem despedidas. A ultima vez que nos vimos foi ha um mes, e para mim foi so a ultima antes da proxima. Nao interessa quanto tempo separa esses dois momentos. Nao quero saber.

Remember "we'll always have Paris". That Paris won't be a place, but a time, the one of our favourite ritual, one small thing among the list of small things, songs, books, pictures, and moments we collect.

Meanwhile think that at least for a few months we wont be growing appart, but walking towards the same element. By December, close to our birthdays, we'll be bathing in the same waters.

I've been having tea, where it grows, searching for the best one. And I'll keep on doing it untill the day you just drop by and we have another cup toghether.

Love,

DARJEELING

time to let go of this story

2008-09-28T13:32:00.002+01:00

All of these lines across my face, tell you the story of who I am, so many stories of where I've been and how I got to where I am, but these stories don't mean anything when you've got no one to tell them to... it's true... I was made for you.
I climbed across the mountain tops, swam all across the ocean blue, I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules, but baby I broke them all for you, because even when I was flat broke you made me feel like a million bucks, yeah you do and I was made for you.
You see the smile that's on my mouth is hiding the words that don't come out and all of my friends who think that I'm blessed, they don't know my head is a mess no, they don't know who I really am and they don't know what I've been through like you do and I was made for you...
All of these lines across my face, tell you the story of who I am, so many stories of where I've been and how I got to where I am, but these stories don't mean anything, when you've got no one to tell them to... it's true... I was made for you
The Story Brandi Carlile

with this song i let go of this blog... DARGELING has left for asia for the 4 month long honeymoon, she is living a dream and on her way to another big one. "i'll be back soon" she said but i won't... so because now each one of us is following a different path, the distances are so much further from our imagination, we will go our separate ways. this blog, or this letter box that we loved to through things in will always be here, maybe one day it'll be a book to keep by our beds, it will always be open and ready for anytime we want to reopen it to remember and relive special moments.
we thought about doing this together because i was moving to Antwerp, and just like my phone was stolen on my last day there, this blog finishes for me also as another adventure is about to happen.

she will probably be sharing her adventure through the asian continent in a new blog, a new book, and i know we all hope she'll let us know soon where exactly... but in the meanwhile i'll be flying away on one way to africa

twice as difficult

2008-09-22T23:41:00.001+01:00

when we, A.T. and I did our "goodbye drink" in Antwerp we knew it'd be hard, we knew we had made ourselves go through something we could never control. we knew we'd laugh but cry at the sight of people leaving. we knew we'd have gifts to open but still be so surprised as we ripped the paper away... we knew it'd hurt but not that much...
what if we had to do it again? would it still have that effect?

i did... i said goodbye to the most important people to me in Antwerp again, twice... and twice as difficult.
four days of excitement filled with usual things, the jokes were ours and the gossip also. the looks, the quirks, the tastes, everything seemed just as normal as it was...
but the city was different. this time, it was my city, it was my home... Lisbon. i hope i showed them exactly how i live here, exactly what makes me ME here. i know there as still a thounsand things to show, a million things to see and so much more to say, but even knowing that there would be a second goodbye, we did it, we were together again and that is so much better than anything else. saying "see ya" twice was twice as hard but twice as special.

so, gorgeous girl, thank you, thank you for saying "i will miss you miss portugal" because that is what keeps me going.

another countdown

2008-09-16T18:27:00.000+01:00

(30 days) and an apology to SOMEONE who has been having boring days at work because i haven't written here on this blog. hopefully what i will say here today will lighten up your day... or worse.

i spent 1 week just laying down on the couch pretending there was nothing else in the world except the most wonderful channel FOX LIFE, pretending i actually took the problems in UGLY BETTY's world seriously... maybe if it was GREY's world i'd probably wouldn't know the difference. anyway the couch worked for just about 8 days and then i took off. i'm telling ya, the more i stay out of here the more i will need to be alone, so i left the house of FOX LIFE and the house with the pool and crawled into my little nest, where silence is key and alone time is prime time!

just about... if you add to the quiet time a bunch of mails and phone calls i have been having to write or call in order to just UNDERSTAND what the heck i have to do to get everything ready to fly away, then i guess i have to find my silence in the toilet! my skype phone has never been so useful and the most professional tool i ever had. if it could only be so simple and reduced to ONE phone call, i swear it'd be nicer, but nooooooo every time i call someone the info changes or adapts according to the mood. and schedules? ah let me tell you something people... did you know embassies are only open to the public 4 hours a day???? maybe only the one i need, but still 4 hours??? are you kidding? if you can't get stuff done until 13:00 you have to do it tomorrow, all over again. !"

!"#$%&%$#"! my point exactly.

there was a high point in this mess, i had to go get my CRIMINAL RECORD, yup... i had to ask for my legal life to be handed out to me. strange how even if i KNOW i'm a good person and have committed no crime i still felt a bit shy asking for one.
"can i have my criminal record please... today?"
"it depends, have you ever committed a crime?"
"no ma'am, never"
"well... we'll see"
"...ok... sorry for interrupting you day here all alone"
after 2 minutes... it figures
"well, here you go, apparently you were right (she was surprised!) it's €3.00"
"does this mean if i had comitted a crime i'd pay more??? eheheheh ahaahahha" i made a joke!
"goodbye"

so crime pays or not? i should rethink this whole being good thing...

just in case you missed it... it's my 6th anniversary of me leaving home for the first time. my my my... back in 2002!

last sunday without you

2008-09-07T10:06:00.001+01:00

: )

posted by darjeeling

last saturday in a'pen

2008-09-06T23:56:00.000+01:00

now... this was the ultimate horrible last day, this was it... the last 24hours, the last moments of such a wonderful time. i didn't wake up with this feeling, of the last moment... i woke up with Rosie next to me smiling, and grabing my nose and talking her own language, and it was so nice to wake up to such a beautiful face, our girls' night sleepover was almost over, only a breakfast away.

breakfast at the REVISTA was the moment when i realized it, if i leave this place now and go home to catch a few hours of sleep, it would be the end, but i couldn't keep my eyes open and if i wanted my "goodbye drink" to go smoothly i had to turn off my mind, sleep and wake up again to enjoy this saturday.

it's hard to explain how i felt when i arrived at the CARGO BAR, because i knew i'd see a lot of people that would celebrate with us our new adventure, wish us their best and send us off to africa, but my goodness, i had no idea how many tears i had in me and how hard it would be to hug my friends and say "goodbye"
i know, you'll tell me "you'll see them again", or "we're in 2008, you have email, facebook and skype", or even "you can get on a plane anytime", which are all valid assumptions, only i hate flying so i don't think flying anytime i feel like will at all be possible, but still you're right. but sorry if i ask, what will i do when i wake up on sundays and need a "koffie verkeerd" or just a complete breakfast? what do i do on thursday evenings? who is going to call me on fridays? and how do you deal with a boring afternoon at work and a craving for great coffee?
who will save me from work, home, or even from A.T.?

funny thing is, i know i will manage it, i know by this time next year so much water will have run under the bridge, so many things will have happened, so many feelings and fears overcome, and those wonderful people who i take with me to Maputo will be ready anytime to hear me, to see me, to let me in their lives just as much as i will let them into mine. they gave me so much that i know i will always be grateful, i will always cherish them... i will always take them with me.

i left that goodbye drink with a very empty feeling inside me, as if i'd given away my tears, heart and soul, the empty feeling almost felt good in a way because i had given myself to everyone who said goodbye. i also felt my purse a bit more empty... a groupd of idiots stole my phone just before midnight... funny enough is that they stole it just before i left Belgium which basically means they made my number dissapear the moment i didn't need it anymore. i didn't get upset, i liked the coincidence about it... there was just one detail that made me a bit sad the next morning: they stole the phone with the coolest ring i ever had, the SEX AND THE CITY ringtone!

and so just like that... i left Antwerp.

last friday in a'pen

2008-09-05T23:43:00.000+01:00

waking up knowing it's my last friday here was too much for me so i woke up A.T. and decided that maybe just today we could some of our rituals together just before we left. i got so used to having this really nice life independently from him i forgot how wonderful those moments we had together here were.
we rode our bikes to the center and looked at the GROBET window and analized every single camera for sale, the new and the used and especially the one he's like and the one i dream of. lunch at DANSING CHOCOLA couldn't have been skipped, with that juicy hamburger just like we remembered, we only skipped the coffee there because after three years the thing we know about CHOCOLA is that the coffee just basically sucks there!

normally on fridays we didn't see eachother, i'd leave for work leaving him sleeping and he'd only come back already saturday dawn while i was already in my 3 sleep, so having to say goodbye in the afternoon and say "tot morgen" wasn't strange at all.

he went his way to dinner, i went my way to my last sleepover-girls-night, which basically means there is no hour to go home, just a moment when you finally stop talking, stop laughing at SATC episodes and turn around to sleep (this part i know not much about because i don't think i slept... eventhough i heard i snored!), anyway... a wonderful friday to finish off this wonderful week.

last thursday in a'pen

2008-09-04T23:54:00.000+01:00

what's a thursday in antwerpen without "Grey's Anatomy", apple crumble and girl's night?
another non tipical day.

last wednesday in a'pen

2008-09-03T23:52:00.001+01:00

what can a wednesday spent between lunch with ex-coleagues, biking in the rain, drinking coffee after work hours at Pacificaciestraat and dinner out with A.T. and other friends have to do with a tipical wednesday?

just about everything.
and more... happy 5th anniversary to me and A.T.

(and happy birthday to A.T.'s nephew Fabio, who also turns 5 today!)

last tuesday in a'pen

2008-09-02T23:41:00.001+01:00

...i'm starting to think there is no point to this "last day in a'pen" list, because not even today was a tipical tuesday here. i usually spend the afternoon of tuesday wishing it's wednesday so it feels like we're already in the middle of the week. usually it's an insignificant day of the week, because it's all about work and there was nothing ever on tv in a'pen on tuesdays.

so actually if i think about it was a very exciting tuesday this one, if only it wasn't so sad.
we gave, believe me i wanted to throw it in the river, our house keys to the next guy who's going to live there. he's an economy major with a too overdone british accent... and he would've never understood the calendar on the wall... A.T. and I felt it... we gave our house to a geek!

a few things were packed in a car and we moved into Luca's place with our last stuff. a few tears came falling down and we took our last fotos there... it's over.
it was over on this last tuesday of a'pen

SUB POST: eighth step to the future:
we moved out and a geek moved in

last monday in a'pen

2008-09-01T23:42:00.001+01:00

so by no means this was a tipical monday, so in reality my last monday in A'pen was a very long time ago... nonetheless i felt it being the last time i'd say "it's monday" here.
i didn't have to go to work, so no monday-morning-blues
i had to pack everything, so no time to shop and drink coffees
i had to be alone in an empty cold appartment, so not exactly my great single-gal-night

i cried, and not because of the rain
i thought a lot, which proves it's not a tipical monday in antwerpen... but still the last.
all that we left in our sint. antoniusstraat 14/3rd floor app. were our clothes. after selling all our stuff the strengh of dealing with our clothes was just too overwhelming, so we're crashing at Luca's place waiting for night time, eating junk food (doesn't fat food feel so good when you're tired?) and remembering all sorts of ridiculous things.

not at all a normal monday

SUB POST: seventh step to the future:
selling all our stuff

last sunday in a'pen

2008-08-31T23:50:00.001+01:00

i am not a believer in last moments, i like countdowns, i like anniversaries, or monthaversaries, i like birthdays and special moments. i hold on to memories far more than other people do because i believe that remembering always makes you understand better who you are.
but last moments, the idea you're doing something for the last time, makes me shiver. as if the thought of eating my last belgian frietjes wasn't enough, today i really felt it... this is my last week here, probably foerever... and i almost had to hold myself up thinking that today is sunday... i should repeat all my rituals this week, on the exact day i used to do them. by doing so i will be sure to remember them even more, and to understand exactly what makes me ME here in this city.

and with this i only had one thing to do after i regained my balance at 10a.m. on this beautiful sunday morning... breakfast with the REVISTA boys!
now, for those who lack information, the REVISTA BOYS aren't a band and i'm sure they are not aware i have breakfast with them... i just sit and watch what the boys that own the cafe REVISTA do. i'm never alone when i do this of course, my partner in this crime also enjoys it!
this ritual includes about a hour's worth of good gossip, strange how it comes to us best on sunday mornings! lots of stories and an amazing and detailed observation of whoever crosses our path.

of course we can't keep the breakfast mood for the whole day so we stroll down the streets to always find a cosy home maybe with a soup pot waiting to warm us (even though it's hot here) and keep the good conversation going.
this was only interrupted when i had to go back to my empty and creepy echooing appartment to sell some furniture, but notheless it was still sunday, so like many of those cold, rainy and unwelcoming sundays i cooked myself a single's dinner, got some individual ice cream and a few gummy bears, rented 2 movies and made myself "at home" on my couch... needless to say, the movies echoed all around me and even though it was just funny stay-at-home-mood-movies, every laugh sounded scary...

and just like that my last sunday in antwer'pen was over... and it felt so relaxing, sad for sure, but so familiar. will all the last days be like this?

sixth step to the future

2008-08-27T10:59:00.002+01:00

repainting over three years of our calendar

fifth step to the future

2008-08-22T19:40:00.002+01:00

the moving company takes away our stuff

fourth step to the future

2008-08-19T13:00:00.000+01:00

both of us flying back to Antwerp

because i survive on countdowns

2008-08-13T08:56:00.003+01:00

there are only 8 days left for me to sit at REVISTA with a koffie verkeerd in my hand and enjoying 5 weeks worth of gossip!

start remembering, i'll start packing!

15.10.2008

2008-08-08T09:00:00.000+01:00

what a strange combination of numbers to leave for Mozambique.

third step to the future

2008-08-07T20:00:00.000+01:00

my parents meeting his parents...

second step to the future

2008-08-03T10:00:00.000+01:00

A.T. flying to Lisbon to meet me

20 days 'til my next crumble

2008-08-01T18:14:00.002+01:00

yesterday was thursday

yesterday i had 5 friends and a 8month old Madalena over for dinner... Codfish Soufflê

yesterday i missed my girl's nights in Antwerp

yesterday i made my apple crumble... and i missed Antwerp even more

yesterday i laughed, gossiped, criticized, cheered, cooked, cleaned, drank and told lots of stories.

this... this is what thursday should always be like, even if without "grey's anatomy". you just can't stop traditions.

29.07.2005 - 29.07.2008

2008-07-29T23:08:00.001+01:00

A.T. called me tonight telling me that being in Antwerp amongst all those boxes of clothes and books, of our life was killing him, he said "it was bound to happen, i still hadn't realized that we're actually doing this" as i listened to him i noticed that i had never realized that this must be as hard for him as it is for me. he's always so together, everything is always so well, give 'im a beer and he'll get through it.

but how can any of the two of us get through this "just like that" when today is the 3rd year anniversary of the day we started something new together? how can we get past this day and not shed a tear, or panic, or remember, or even just think about what we've already been through, or imagine what will be next?

i remember so many things. i remember that first night when we arrived when it rained like there wouldn't be a tomorrow, how the thunder roared, how dark it was. i remember sleeping that first night on the floor of our living room, realizing that the window was so big i thought i was sleeping outside, i remember waking up and opening my eyes and seeing that horrible fireplace and thinking i had to cover it one day (that's how the search ended when i found a great window to put in front of it), realizing we still had so much to do in that small appartment. i remember 8days of non stop labour of painting, scrubbing, putting furniture together, cleaning and finally sitting down in our couch, looking at our masterpiece "the calendar" and realizing both of us "this is our home now"
for 3 years we added on to that white canvas, it was a continuous work, but it was a work of love. to me i'm sure worked as herapy, i was upset a lot about the bad weather, the cold almost made me deaf, but that appartment kept me going. everything i bought or made for it, made me realize the best thing of moving is being able to put your personality in everything you do. i'm sure people walked in and saw me and him in those colors, on those walls, on small details such as chairs, flowers, kitchen utensils, objects, anything really. i'm sure we were both present in that "home" even if we were out.

it is a shame that the friends we have in Lisbon or Milan didn't get to see this part of "us". they didn't see us as we are now, they saw us either individually or together but in situations that helped us get to where we are now... and that is the reason why i know Antwerp will always be better. it isn't a competition, it's just a fact. we had the liberty of chosing any city in any country to live in, and together we choose Antwerp, and it had nothing to do with the health system, or the salaries, or of course the weather... it just was. and i'm sure any other city would have given us as much pleasure and happiness, but because of our choices, Antwerp is now our "special place, our home" and that will always be with us.
so, my loving A.T., that is why it couldn't have happened any other day than today. we couldn't have chosen another day if we wanted than this one.
the anniversary of the day we chose ANTWERPEN.

sofia_antónio 26.07.2008

2008-07-27T15:40:00.001+01:00

so they're married, on their way to asia on their apparently very busy honeymoon...
the wedding couldn't have been sweeter. she looked so relaxed, so happy without being too much, almost as if this was what she just had to do today amongst all other things.
he also looked so happy, so in love but so himself, when asked "how was it?" he answered "it was cute!" like he had also been this happy for a long time.

my manicurist said to me while painting my nails in hot purple "people nowadays get married knowing that they can always get divorced", she doesn't know Sofia and Antonio, she has never seen them together. she has no idea how serene they are and how at the same time happy and loving. they will definitely stay together forever. he will always take care of her, and she will always keep him smiling. that's our Sofia...

changing to gossip now, our "wedding group" was so well dressed, mind you we never dress badly!!!! yellows and reds by Miss Ritinha, green bluish by Miss Celia, flowers by Miss Luisa, purples and grays by Miss Catia and last but not least HOT PINK by Miss Portugal! of course i will send photos to those who are dying to see me in my beautiful candy dress!!! ;)

i had a great time and i'm sure we will remember this forever... i'm sure they will keep surprising us but making us like always feel part of their lives. and kids, by the way... we want nieces and nephews, one for each of the future Godmothers!!!

may this last forever...

1 week and a few days... by myself

2008-07-24T19:22:00.004+01:00

it's been 24hours that i packed my bags and picked myself up and said "i need to leave... i need to breathe". these last 6 years have taught me so much about myself and this last week almost ruined the positive effect those 6 years left on me. so the result of 8 shity days was exactly this... me, myself and i in my cosy little appartment in the centre of Lisbon with just my things.

i can see the river from my window, just a bit, just enough... but i know it's there, right around the corner. i feel it in the light that flows through the window, i smell it in the air that blows the curtains. it's there. it's here.

the morning is filled with the city noise, no more of the noise of people yelling, getting angry and saying things i hope they'll regret. here it's the birds and the children from the school next door i hear. they wake up early it's true!!!
the closest are empty, holding just a few of my things. the kitchen has just a few of my favorite snacks, and my favorite diet foods... and ice cream!! 'cause you gotta have ice cream.

i have already walked up and down these hills and felt the sun warming up, used the bus, the tram, have enjoying just being here. discovered new bookshops (also made lists of what i'd like to use in mine), new coffee places, i'm still thinking of where it's best to go for breakfast, but i'm having a hard time with it... i just to try every single place and then decide.

i went to the notary to get my signature recognized in the documents i need to send to the Ministry of Work in Maputo. I'm really doing this. Next week i send everything... including the contract! SIGNED!
ui...

in the meantime, i have hills to climb and coffees to drink... and a wedding to get ready for saturday. this time i'm wearing: fucsia dress, purple shoes, violet belt and violet bag... it'll be very nice to see another friend, Sofia getting what she wants and deserves... happiness.
and i deserve a night out with the girls.

but tonight's thursday. it's also a night to party in lisbon, so i need to take a shower and get dressed (i'm in my bikini because it's so hot!) and get going...
i'm back

1 week... gone

2008-07-19T15:43:00.000+01:00

this week was the biggest emotional rollercoaster. you'd think because i'm leaving Antwerp and moving to Mozambique being here would have some meaning. It would somehow make sense.
not really... actually, none at all.

Lisbon has nothing to do with it. Family has everything. From being considered obese to having my dreams crushed everything has happened, and all because i have been very far away where poeple don't judge, where people let me be. The hardest part of leaving to anywhere... is letting others interfere. They don't say "you can't go" but they can say "for what?" not realizing who we are anymore.

6 years have given me everything i thought i had and didn't and everything that makes me happy. this is just a place.... just like any other. And Lisbon will be my place soon, but as long as they don't see it, this isn't IT.

first step to the future

2008-07-13T10:00:00.000+01:00

fly home to lisbon

on my way to you

2008-07-13T00:01:00.000+01:00

this is it. it's here... the first goodbye. i'll be back in 5 weeks and i'm sure so much will change until then... and here i am desperately holding on to so many things. i know there is still so much to do, so much to miss, and right now it is all so overwhelming.

i am trying very hard not to let go... but at the same time if i hold on to everything here i won't be able to open my arms again to... home.

antwerp, please wait for me, this isn't my final goodbye... it will never be.

tot ziens a'pen, tot 19 augustus!!!

5 days to lisbon

2008-07-09T13:50:00.000+01:00

there have been a lot of countdowns lately in my life, you and the other girls have made it possible to always at the beginning of the day have a small countdown to our next big event.
it started with the weekend in Dublin, then with Celia's wedding, then with you moving back to Lisbon... then with Sofia's wedding... and even though this last one still will go on for another 15 days, in 4 days i will be going home.

i keep thinking this is ok. this is just the first step of a very long goodbye. but i can't help but be sad. everytime i have something planned these last days, it's the last time. i will be back in one month, but then it will only another 10 days for me stay here, and saying goodbye in a hurry isn't the way i'd preferred doing this.

i've got TO DO lists that keep growing because everyday i realize something else needs to be done, or written, or said or signed, or closed, or packed. and still i think i haven't done anything.

still to do:
- pick up University documents
- pick up Board of Architects documents (and pay my bill)
- Standard CV
- close the electricity account
- close the tv account
- close internet account
- close bank account
- sell furniture

these things take time and i feel that i still haven't got enough of it.

maybe i should just see this trip to lisbon, as what it really is for now, another holiday. greet says in order to not get sad "you're just going for a holiday like you always do... so this isn't goodbye... yet"
that's what it is... why be so sad now?
because cookie girl will be 7 months when i come back and she'll be able to sit up straight and maybe even put her feet on the floor and giggle so much more.
i'll be back... but now i've got bags to do, because in a way i know you're there with all the girls waiting for me and that means that i'll be sad for just a little bit.

catalog 2005-2008

2008-07-07T21:00:00.001+01:00

i'm selling my stuff. it's going pretty well, i have most things sold, other things i've decided to just give away... others still need to make someone convinced that they need these things. like the sofa. doesn't anyone need a sofa?

didn't think it'd be so much work being a small version of IKEA!

so this catalog has been fun though, putting it together, watching people's reaction to what we've managed to collect over these 3 years. some things mean a lot to me and to A.T. and some things are hard to give up.
but we really can't be bothered with taking everything with us to Mozambique or even to Lisbon in september.
so this is a sort of a tribute to what we lived here. this way, one day when i come back i'll see my t stuff being used to it's best value.

maybe rosie will use the coffee tables as her doll-tea-party table. i like to think she'll grown up the next 2 years using them, or the blankets i've put aside for her, or that her bedroom will be vaccumed with my so dear vaccum-cleaner!
and i also need the money and what better way to do it than with a much modern version of an american garage sale. if only IKEA would hire our graphic skills!!!! eheheheh

if you find something in this catalog that is to your liking please let me know, i'll see if it's still available. but remember you can only want something if you live in belgium... i am not selling anything that then has to travel to another country... that is not the point of this whole process.

dreaming limbo

2008-07-01T17:10:00.000+01:00

i had a dream (yes so did u martin) last night where i had just bought this enormous barn, i didn't actually pay for it, i just know it was mine, where i strated putting in everything i loved about A'pen.

i stuffed it like so it almost burst at the seams, and you'd think i had nothing to stuff it with, no sir, i had plenty, between good breakfast places, i counted 4, good dinner places, those are about... 12, good lunch bars, 6, coffee places, 3, places i'd go if i couldn't go to the places i really wanted, probably 6, shops... hmmm my favorite, 18, places i hate but are part of my memories, about 3... bookshops, 2 (only because antwerp is missing a few of these). i put in miniture sized streets, miniature sized crossroads, miniature sized squares... and stret corners, and traffic lights (did you know that on valentine's day they put hearts in the red lights?? cool huh? ya i know, corny but still i put them inside my barn).
oh what else. no, not people, they were al standing there behind me watching as i picked and stored away so many things. i just put clones of the guys of the REVISTA bar so that i'd have copies of them and it doesn't count as people!!! why? 'cause... duh!

and after all this was packed away it just all of a sudden got swollowed by earth, as in planet earth. it dissapeard like it meant nothing. it got eaten by the ground. i couldn't believe it... but seeing that all the people i would've wanted to pack away in that same barn with the revista guys were still there, with the same habits, smiles, gossip stories and ticks i had this feeling of tranquility. in a way maybe it just meant that, in the future when i come back to Antwerp, it probably will have change a lot, maybe nothing will ever be the same, but they will all be there.
i guess when i go back to Milan that is what conforts me. and even in Lisbon, seeing all of thos who i grew up with makes me want to be there. it doesn't mean that they haven't done anything, they just adapted their lives to this city that will keep moving... and i think that is much braver that leaving.

...or maybe the dream meant that whatever i try to get organized, and ticked off my TO DO LIST, one moment i'll look and it will all be gone, i'll take care of burocratic stuff and then i'll fall down the stairs and i can't leave anymore, or Portugal will declare that girls that know how to make cupcakes shouldn't leave the country, or i'll be discovered by Martha Stewart and they'll exile me to New York...
and all the people i should've put in that barn will be whistling away ignoring me...

this dream interpreting business will one day give me a heart attack.

www.jessemonggo.com

15 days to lisbon

2008-06-28T14:24:00.000+01:00

so i am out of a job and enjoying my first weeks of holiday, and the precious moments i can have with the people i enjoy the most. breakfast in Kieldrecht.
breakfast was a very nice breakfast, my favorite meal and if i could i'd make it long enough to skip lunch and dinner. i was taken on a tour aroung this cute little town. we arrived to Holland, which isn't hard around here, but i still look very surprised when i change countries so quickly like that. it was peaceful, so serene and yet so exciting because there was so much i hadn't seen.
haing grown up in a city always makes me wonder how much i'd would've like having had a childhood in a cute place like Kieldrecht... but then i remember how small towns look like back home and i realize Lisbon was the perfect place for me.

but when i was small i don't remember seeing so much green, i didn't realize that nature is so... natural really. i guess i thought parks were all human made! no really, it was beautiful. i had a wonderful breakfast and a great tour around Kieldrecht.

i know now why your always so calm G. noone could be as stressy as me in such a magical place.

have i ever told you i’m happy

2008-06-25T19:36:00.002+01:00

I probably haven’t in a while, and amazingly I didn’t think it was important. Strange how one is always willing to tell about the bad moments of their lives, and then when you finally seem as happy as you can be, you somehow don’t find the time to tell anyone let alone the ones who matter.

The reasons for my happiness lately are various, thankfully I need a lot of things, small things, small details in my life to make me feel happy… and eventhough I never say it out loud I know it shows.

So now you’re home. did I mention I’m happy?! Yes, I’m happy because I know the city of our dreams is almost complete, it’s bigger with you, it’s sunnier and so much more beautiful. This has made this last month so much easier, knowing that those who have missed you in the last 18 months have the chance to see you so much more. I don’t pretend you’re not going through a crazy period, a in between feeling of being home and also being still away. It’s nice to know you’re taking care of your own home where J. will soon join you as soon as he’ll pack you’re final moments in Dublin to join you in this new and exciting new part of your life. I heard you’ve ordered sofas, and furniture, which for someone who gets stuff always missed up seems like such a big step!!! Eheh, I know probably you dad gave you a hand and if he didn’t I’m very proud, maybe the cold up in Ireland really made you speed up things!!!! I can just see you all so panicky in the middle of all the things you brought, you kept, and you still have to look through!

Knowing you’re in Lisbon makes me relaxed.

I am so proud of all the things you have done, all the choices you ever made, probably never told you this either, but looking back I realise we all do things we might not understand why, or how, but I’m sure somewhere along the line we, me, you will be sure whatever we did we did it for the best…

And that is also why now we shouldn’t look back in choices we made for our future… yes because I know that even if it takes you some time to get used to the idea of being back home, you have made this choice a while back and this I know you were sure of… it take some time, but you know you made it right the moment you said it.

Maybe I’ll also be able to see it.

Will I ever see Mozambique as a positive choice I’ve made also, I hope so because right now I feel like it is the best thing I’ve decided to do, but I just breaks my heart to let go of so many things… again.

It’s not just moving somewhere else, where a plane flies to in 3hours or less. It is Africa.

It is as I know it the end of the world… but such a beginning.

It is so hard at this moment to explain why, and what for and what if and what if not. People ask and I wish I had better answers. But then again, I came o Antwerp with probably less answers and less certainties, and guess what, it’s been 3 years and I have people I will say goodbye to that just the thought makes me cry right now.
Is it true we can’t put a person in our bags when we fly? Will TAP notice I’m taking special people inside my luggage? Will these people survive a 10 hour flight in the luggage compartment? Greet would definitely, as long as Rosie was there with her! Sofie would probably want to join since she always loves a girls’ thing. Kris would come ‘cause he’d have space to build his wooden cabin. Luca would say yes ‘cause african girls are beautiful. Lily would cry a bit but if Nathalie and Marco would come she’s feel more at ease. Farcesca and Dominik would because he’ll have plenty of land to bike, and she’ll love the sun and can yell all she wants.

Me?

I’m going… not in the luggage but with plenty of bags. I’m going because… because I believe this is it. This is my future right in front of me. No matter what that means… I feel it. I’ve never been this happy.

Do you know I’m in love also? …I guess that’s for another time.

14 hours of work to go… 18 days to go to Lisbon for holidays… and 108 day to Africa… more or less, I hope less… no, more… less….

Ok, so I wanna go but I don’t wanna leave. (are you with me?)

portugal 2 _ alemanha 3

2008-06-20T07:24:00.000+01:00

publico.pt

pronto, já tá. descobri ontem que eu e tu Cristi somos muitos parecidos, odiamos perder, e por isso toma lá um chupa-cups que eu vou ter que parecer que não me afecta nada esta eliminação do EUR08 porque trabalho mesmo ao lado de uma colega alemã e vou ter que fazer de conta que eles jogaram muito bem e que voçês não mereciam ganhar, e que o Ricardo tá velho e ceguinho e que tu és todo show-off, e que o Deco não estava nos seus dias, e que os jogadores portugueses passam mais tempo a fazer truques de pézitos para trás e para a frente, e que os alemães são uma optima equipa... blá blá blá...
o que me entristece... é que não vou precisar fazer muito esforço, porque o jogo que eu vi ontem vestida das cores da bandeira lusitana da cabeça aos pés não teve nada do qual posso orgulhar-me... foi um jogo emocionante sim, mas meteu-me pena ver-vos cansados, a arrastar os pés e sem a garra á qual nos têm habituado.
os peritos podem dizer "mas o jogo foi muito bom", talvez para quem não tem que lidar com colegas belgas que estão desejosos de poder dizer algo contra Portugal, mas eles não, eles não puseram o coração neste jogo... eu pus e pumba! lá se foi tudo.
vou começar a adoptar a estratégia do EUR04, não vejo jogo nenhum... e chegam até á final!

ou então.... ah já percebi, querem que eu volte? pois... então fazemos assim, eu volto em 2010, e voçês ganham o MUNDIAL ok? ou então eu fico lá em Moçambique e vou ver-vos á Africa do Sul, e ao menos assim vou ver algum jogo live. decidem-se, têm 2 anos para vos organizarem.
até lá... Quim cura-te que o Ricardo já deu o que tinha a dar.

agora só me faltava a Itália ser campeã outra vez mesmo provando mais uma vez que não merece ganhar nada... mas já tive que prometer lá em casa que se não apoiar os AZZURRI eu vou ter que dormir no sofá!

meu querido santo antonio

2008-06-13T09:30:00.000+01:00

http://images.google.be/imgres?imgurl=http://deltacat.blogs.sapo.pt/arquivo/marchaCarnide1

mais um ano e mais um dia 13.junho que eu perco... não vai ser o último ainda por cima... já começa a fazer falta, já começa a doer. mas com o EUR08 eu ainda vou comendo umas sardinhas e fazendo de conta que a praça de São João aqui é estreitinha e a subir tal como as ruas de Alfama.

um dia vou voltar sem pensar que mais um ano vou perder a festa mais genuína da minha linda lisboa. mas por enquanto faltam 31 dias para ir para casa.

portugal 3 _ rép. checa 1

2008-06-11T21:04:00.002+01:00

não me façam sofrer assim!!! ao ver os primeiros jogos assim tão próximos um do outro e tão no ínicio do jogo faz com que eu tenha que beber uma cerveja para me acalmar... sabes que eu NUNCA bebo cerveja, mas na Sint. Jansplein a SUPER BOCK é rainha e isso ajuda os nervos.

quando os vi de branco estremeci, não me sinto próxima do branco, dói ao não ver o vermelhão português... mas como eu ia vestida a rigor pensei que bastasse, e bastou! para além do passo de gentleman do Cristiano ao Quaresma, que não ficou nada mal, eu sei que também ajudei à vitória!!! ;)

you're home

2008-06-10T12:25:00.002+01:00

today you landed home. after almost two years of discoveries, surprises, adaptation and dissapointments, smiles and tears, highs and lows... english with a wierd accent, you landed home.
with all of our hearts we wished you the best on your journey back, not backwards just back... forward always. we have been for the last 33 days incouraging you to look ahead, to not fall while you prepare, to not cry while you pack, to not stop while you say goodbye. the same way you made up your mind to leave those big daddy arms, with all that security, with all that will in your mind, we now know this is the best for you.

this is the perfect week for you to go back to lisbon, it is waiting for you under the protection of our dear friend, the one that has made a lot of coincidences in our lives. today especially, the 10th of june the perfect day to land in portugal.

as you start a new cycle, this time on your own, i am here, to support you in anything.

do not be afraid, do not think twice... lisbon is yours. keep it safe for when all of us come back home and remember that whenever the wind passes by you know what that means... maybe even when it comes all the way from africa.

italia 0 _ holanda 3

2008-06-09T23:13:00.002+01:00

... non ho parole. acceto le scuse di Buffon che ha detto ai giornalisti "chiediamo scuse", le acceto, avete magari pensato che essere Campioni del Mondo fosse gia mezza strada per una buonna partita, ma no, invece magari avresti dovuto concentrarvi e veramente pensare che perche siete Campioni, ieri dovevate provarlo ancora di piu. siete nel girone piu dificile del EURO... e adesso?
adesso si aspetta. fino a venerdi. dai ragazzi

e poi, TONI, hai 8 metri e 300kg, dai, fai qualcosa, puoi rompere qualsiasi holandese in 2 secondi, dai!!

e a parte questo... anche la francia ha fatto merda, quindi non vogliamo fare con che io scapi del belgio perche si come non sanno gioccare e non sono nel EUR08 voglianno che vincanno i holandesi. e poi... una squadra che si veste di arancione fuorescenti non merita... NIENTE!
ma se vi fermate qui, ditelo, cosi tifate per PORTOGALLOOOOOOOOOOOO

portugal 2 _ turquia 0

2008-06-07T23:50:00.000+01:00

e assim começou o meu eur08. bem e bom! eu estive longe de ecrâns mas vivi a coisa.
fui assistir ao FASHION SHOW de fim de curso da minha amiga Berit e acabei por perder o jogo, mas tive o papá e o A.T. a mandarem sms nos momentos cruciais, claro que não me disseram o que o Nuno Gomes andou a fazer... a pontaria não estava com ele, e por mais que o adore e seja para mim o segundo Rui Costa, dedicado e humilde eu ando ocncentrada neste menino aqui em baixo... mas de onde veio tal rapaz, podes-me dizer de onde foi que ele saiu?
é que eu nunca o vi e não me interessa se Tuga, Brasuca ou Turco até, tá connosco e para ficar!
boa continuação PORTUGAL!!!!

where do I (we) belong?

2008-06-02T09:34:00.005+01:00

You Belong in Amsterdam

A little old fashioned, a little modern - you're the best of both worlds. And so is Amsterdam.
Whether you want to be a squatter graffiti artist or a great novelist, Amsterdam has all that you want in Europe (in one small city).

Ao j. deu milão. As voltas que o mundo dá.

E tu n venhas ter comigo que eu estou de malas feitas. Pelo menos na minha cabeça.
Estou em pânico. Sei que não vai caber tudo e que apesar de ter dito que as roupas e os livros têm prioridade, a verdade é que me afeiçoei aos mais corriqueiros (e ridiculamente baratos) objectos, como a minha colher favorita para comer iogurte, ou um frasco de doce que a certa altura me enviaram de lisboa - "esse podes deitar fora", qual quê?-, uma relíquia de vidro trabalhado que jazia na dispensa de alguem desde os anos 80.

Por outro lado o champoo está a acabar, não tenho mais livros para ler, as saudades e a ansiedade não me deixam concentrar,e a cidade já pouco tem para oferecer.

Para ter vontade de regressar, tenho de me ir embora. E quanto mais tempo passa, mais as coisas arranjam espaço dentro do meu coração e no armário das memórias. De tal ordem que não quero ficar condenada a fazer testes no cyber espaço para saber onde pertenço.

O mal está feito, mea culpa. Afeiçoei-me a esta que foi a minha primeira casa com o J. já lá vão quase 2 anos, aos jardins da cidade, e rotinas que criei - eu criei rotinas e uma vida mais ou menos estável!!!

Não me quero despedir, nem tenho tempo. E nem sei se vou voltar.

Mas estou pronta para fechar este livro. Sinto que andei a ler devagar o último capítulo de propósito. Mas já fechei a contra capa e nem me lembro da ultimas palavras. Só sei que apareço a sorrir numa fotografia a preto e branco.

Não venhas mesmo. Pertencemos a Lisboa. Ela é tudo o que as outras são, e pelo menos mais uma coisa. É a única capital da Europa onde o sol se deita sobre o mar.

Agora só quero abrir os olhos para assistir.

posted by darjeeling

eu devi estar aí

2008-05-27T16:34:00.000+01:00

You Belong in Dublin

Friendly and down to earth, you want to enjoy Europe without snobbery or pretensions.

You're the perfect person to go wild on a pub crawl... or enjoy a quiet bike ride through the old part of town.

What European City Do You Belong In?

ó para ela toda babada

2008-05-20T12:36:00.004+01:00

sabes que quando chego a casa, ou hiberno no sofá a comer uma tijelita de passas a ver um episódio dos Simpsons ou organizo/limpo/cozinho/bake (não há verbo para a arte de fazer bolos?)
então ontem nem vi o sofá, convidei um amigo para jantar e assim que cheguei tratei da sobremesa, na verdade tinha sido já prometida há bastante tempo e só ontem consegui finalmente convidá-lo... visto a namorada estar fora, assim era só mais um! ;) que má!

arregacei as mangas, que já eram curtas, e organizei-me para fazer uns bons e fofos Cupcakes á American, decidi fazer uns cupcakes com a receita de um normal bolo de mármore, nada que saber, mas este não é o local para as receitas, e decidi investir mais imaginação no icing, tive que ir consultar num instante o site da minha amiga Martha Stewart que ela é que sabe mas aldrabei de qualquer maneira que eu agora tenho a mania!
enquanto correr bem, vou ter a mania!

o icing foi muito fácil de fazer: 200g de manteiga, uma pitada de sal (ainda tou para saber para o que é que serve) e bater bem até ficar fluffy, acrescentar 3cups (eu como tenho uns copinhos com medidas americanas nem sei qual a conversão) de açucar em pó (que podem eventualmente reduzir para apenas 2) e depois acrescentar um purézito de morangos, mais precisamente 3 colheres de sopa.
para o puré de morangos, eu utilizei framboesas porque descobri este fruto há 4 meses e agora parece que não conheço outro, adoro! embora o morango seja e será sempre o meu fruto preferido, se comprarem dos morangos/framboesas congelados, são bons não tenham medo, basta descongelar (metam 2 minutos debaixo de agua quente) e passem no triturador, a seguir basta só passar num filtro para nenhuma das sementinhas ir parar ao cupcakes. ok? pronto...

eu até acrescentei chocolate em pó por cima não fosse o cupcake saber a pouco!!!

delicious!!!!!

05.05.2008

2008-05-05T12:35:00.001+01:00

há 1 aninho estava eu em Lisboa para celebrar convosco...filipa e joão

hoje, estão aqui comigo a celebrar 1 aninho completo de felicidade.

dia delas

2008-05-04T12:30:00.000+01:00

da Joana e da Fá!
beijinhos das filhotas

peanut butter-cinnamon-chocolate chip cookies

2008-04-22T14:47:00.007+01:00

my first ever cookies! never had i attempted to make cookies before and this weekend, because the weather was calling for a more homy feel, while the man of the house was working on a 3d (tipical man!) i decided to dedicate to a long postponed hobby, ever since i live on my own, i've discovered this passion for cooking, not necessarily sweet or salted food, i just like having people eat what i make... and hopefully enjoying it!

so sunday after a morning out in a shy sun i bought all the ingredients to make thos amazing cookines from "Martha's Cookies" book. some look so hard, and so chic, but i decided to go with an almost classic, not just make a chocolate-chip cookie, but try her variation for it, with peanut-butter and cinnamon.
i won't write the recipe, because this is not a food blog, but i will let you know what's in it: flour, light brown sugar, granulated sugar, pinch of salt, cinnamon, peanut-butter, butter, baking soda and chocolate-chips (you can also add extra peanuts, but i thought it was too much)

mix it

use an ice-cream scoop to make equally big cookies, not too big (i made that mistake so the first batch burnt a bit), the recipe says to press slightly with a bottom of a cup... i did it once, burnt the sides of the cookies, so the other 2 batches i didn't press and made them smaller.

look at the photos in the recipe book a few times so you can make them just like it!

i'm not a professional but they looked pretty good on the drying rack! i have to say the taste was even better than they looked, soft in the middle, almost chewy and so fragrant with the double amount of cinnamon Martha told me to put... i love cinnamon, so i added lots more!

because i can't lie and tell you they ALL came out beautiful, here is the first batch of cookies and the second one... the first is only slightly burnt on the sidesn but the taste is still very good. of course the ones one the right were the best.

and as my coleague Liesbeth said when she tasted it, (without me having to bribe her!)

"hmmm... these are the best cookies i ever tasted"

i guess i'll keep making cookies...

dublin.ie

2008-04-10T10:20:00.007+01:00

The recipe for a great weekend probably isn't putting 6 girls in 10m² for 5 days. but believe it or not, it can work!

Dublin wouldn't have been the same if we hadn't shared it together, the rain would have been wetter, the cold, colder, the appartment too big, the walks too long, the sun not enough, the shopping not fun and most importantly, the conversations would've made more sense, would have had an end and our heads wouldn't have called for silence in the end.

Conversations changed between one girl leaving Ireland, one wanting to move to Mozambique, one getting married in 15 days, another in 3 months, one who just got promoted but can't go to Angola anymore, or maybe yes still, and one that is new to the group but made quite an impression becoming our personal GODMOTHER... and last but not least one who stayed in Lisbon because she is a proud mother of a beautiful baby but would give her up for a weekend with us... of course, the 10m² would have been enough also for her.
never did such a tiny environment become so cosy so quickly, and even with our recomended small trolleys we made that space feel like our home.
this though took a little effort, we had to kick out the man of house so 6 histerical women could move in, we ate on the floor eventhough there was a table, we were 4 in one room, and 2 in the livingroom in a couch that only lovers would sleep in because only someone who knows you that well could fit so closely.

The other 4, including me, were cramped up in the "master bedroom" where to get to any bed we'd have to climb over these "watery" matresses that somehow during the night would lose all their air, and where basically you'd have to put just one foot, because the moment you'd put your second foot and attempt a step, you'd look like you were trying too hard to surf!

I still have dificulty in trying to understand what went on during these 5 days, and maybe the most important part of it was the animal jungle we went to, called PENNEYS, where basically you forget there's a world outside and enter this twilight zone of cheat shopping! I went in for a jacket, i came out with one jacket, 3 dresses, 3 pairs of underwear. the others?
well, they went in for nothing and came out with souvenirs for next christmas!!!!!

It's hard to explain exactly the void i felt when monday morning after the girls had left to fly back home, Darjeeling had left for work and i looked around and while i made the girly appartment become once more the home of a very cute couple, i almost felt sad for all that silence, actually i had to turn off the "girls of the playboy mansion" reality show on tv, otherwise silence is something you'll never feel, apparently that's the only show on irish tv! looking around me and knowing that in a couple of hours i myself would be flying back to where someone was waiting for me (in the lazy sense of waiting) and i desperately wanted all the girls back, i wanted to hear that constant noise, that constant complaining, good complaining, that constant make-up session, that continuously shopping, those sweet teas and scones, that pleasant feeling of gossip, those wierd confessions, the effortless digital fotography, the adult comments of wives-to-be, those dreamy sighs... and that beautiful friendship.

This weekend was exactly that, an explosion of friendship, and contradictory i wanted to get away, but i know throughout these 6 years i've been away, i know that this feeling is the best feeling, the wanting to be together, to overwhelm ourselves with so much information that none of this info stays in our heads for long. what stays is that warm feeling you have that all those girls, are connected no matter what, we are friends to eachother and for eachother.

This is what Dublin will always be for me, not only where you live but where we were all with you...

01.04.2008

2008-04-01T09:09:00.003+01:00

PARABÉNS!!!

á Avó Madalena e á Celix...
com um beijinho enorme de saudades!!

2 days to dublin

2008-04-01T09:04:00.002+01:00

http://portuguesbrasileiro.istockphoto.com/index.php

and i'm packing away... i know, i know, your littel house isn't very big, we'll be 6 histerical girls so i know luggage needs to be controlled, but that's way i've started already. i'm packing and unpacking for the next 2 days... it makes me feel already there!!!
never thought you'd be the one making me go to Dublin...

3 days to dublin

2008-03-31T13:37:00.002+01:00

it's over.
next step is waiting, simply waiting for the competition results... maybe one day i can show you girls. 15:00 and finally i'm going to relax...
3 days of continuous stressing and worrying... now, i'll enjoy the 3 days before seeing you in dublin!!!

4 days to dublin

2008-03-30T10:39:00.002+01:00

http://portuguesbrasileiro.istockphoto.com/index.php

tomorrow is it. deadline just around the corner. a whole weekend thrown out of the window just because architecs still think that you can change anything you want 24 hours before the due date... well, i've been working the whole weekend and hopefully i can sleep tonight...
i have a million things to do and so little time.
hopefully i can have 5 minutes to stare at an irish flag and just imagine that i'll be outta here so soon!!

6 days to dublin

2008-03-28T14:12:00.001Z

www.casacoamarelo.blogspot.com

and a deadline on monday at an hour i haven't understood when and with a boss breathing down my neck expecting me to read her dreams... it's a competition and 3 days to deadline and she's still changing things. sometimes, if i could just YEEEELLLLLL!

8 days to dublin

2008-03-27T07:39:00.002Z

MOSTLY CLOUDY, here, there and anywhere apparently...

i am freezing, it's so cold i think i'll freeze somewhere between home and work... hopefully not when a tram is about to surpass me even though i'm so little and innofensive when i ride my bike.
please tell me things will get better, weather wise at least, the tram will eventually kill me i know! in 8 days i want SUN!

10 days to dublin

2008-03-25T13:39:00.000Z

nothing like a weekend with 5 other friends in a strange city, at least for 3 of us, to celebrate the fact that 2 of them are getting married, 1 might be going to asia, 1 is controlling businesses in africa... and me... well, i told you, i will wait 'till i'm there to let you know

BOM DIA!

2008-03-19T09:25:00.004Z

daqui

ao papá Luis e ao papá Alvaro!!

"teacher, can i go to the bathroom?"

2008-03-11T21:04:00.009Z

no últimos meses tem sido muito dificil para mim a 2feira, eu sei, parece-te uma frase feita, todos odeiam a 2feira e olha que eu sempre fui daquelas crianças que adorava estar na escola, não me importava nada que o fim-de-semana fosse curto,queria era ir brincar com os meus amigos no colégio... mas agora, adulta, odeio. e não é o ter que acordar cedo, porque sabes que isso para mim não é problema, a única diferença é que durante os dias úteis, acordo com despertador "artificial" enquanto que aos fins-de-semana acordo pela luz que me entra quarto a dentro.

mas como todas as 2feiras ultimamente tenho tido dificuldade a começar a semana de trabalho, lá para as 11 da manhã e depois de 2 cafés é que a coisa começa a aquecer... e ontem não foi excepção. believe me, i hate it... e não sei se foi exactamente essa minha lenta disposição para o trabalho, ou a pena que o meu chefe tem de mim quando o A.T. vai de férias sem mim (sabe-se lá porquê mas existem pessoas que acham que mulher sem homem morre...), mas o que é certo é que veio ter comigo muito alegre mas cauteloso e perguntou
"can you take my place?"
tenho desde já a dizer que esta frase por si só quase me fez fugir dali, se há pessoa que não precisa ser substituida, porque por vezes ele só já é demais, é este homem, mas talvez o facto das coisas estarem ainda muito lentas no meu cérebro, acabou por fazer com que eu calmamente o ouvisse até ao fim
"i need to give a class in the University of Leuven, but i'm not feeling ok, so if you want to you can substitute me"
"...uh... uh... uh... ok..." resposta inteligente de uma futura professora!
"it's a workshop really, you just need to develop a project that will be given by the organizing comittee and you'll help a group of students through it"
"so... how old are these students?" para mim haveria sempre uma idade limite, only under 25 and not 12!!!

bem, só enquanto ia no carro com a minha outra chefe é que percebi bem o que se estava a passar... e que a coisa ia durar umas horas, eram 13:00 e o programa estava todo organizado pelo menos até ás 20:00... and counting

basicamente o que se passou foi o seguinte, a Universidade organiza 1 semana por ano umas workshops intituladas "WORKING WITH THE MASTERS IN ARCHITECTURE"

by the way... o facto de eu ter ido, faz de mim uma MASTER IN ARCHITECTURE!!!!

o que é certo é que cada MASTER (that's me if you've forgotten) teria a seu cargo um grupo de 4/5 estudantes, de variados anos, visto ser aberto a qualquer um, mas a diferença é que estes miúdos não são simplesmente arquitectos to be mas também enginheiros, aqui na Bélgica existe também esta licenciatura de Engenheiro-arquitecto... um mix! basicamente são mais arquitectos que engenheiros mas as componentes de física, estruturas, construção são bem mais pesadas do que um "simples" arquitecto e muito menos que um "simples" engenheiro.
enfim... foi-me dado um grupo, 4 rapazes e 1 menina... ela passado 2 horas disse que tinha que ir embora... ok, vai... fiquei com os 4 meninos, aliás 3 meninos lindos de olhos azuis, todos do 2 aninho, super excited e prontos a concordar comigo no que desse e viesse... o outro... cómico, in a way, mas igual e eu reforço a palavra IGUAL ao Frankenstein Junior!!!

passamos 4 horas muito bem passadas, no frio de uma velha fábrica abandonada da cerveja Stella Artois, de onde saí com os pés congelados e a bexiga cheia... as wcs eram aquelas dos concertos... sitio onde eu não meto os pés, nem morta!
apresentaram o projecto muito bem e ainda me vieram dar os parabéns pelos belissimos sketches que eu fiz, perguntaram onde aprendi e disse que desde que nasci todos me deram sempre espaço e tempo para desenvolver desenhos á mão, fazem parte do processo de design de qualquer tipo de projecto, a própria letra com que escrevo é "desenhada" por mim, de maneira a que para cada coisa, quase, uso um tipo diferente... a font é sempre a mesma, minha, mas ajustada a cada tipo de pensamento... os desenhos a mesma coisa. é a minha maneira de transmitir algo a outra pessoa... ou apenas a mim mesma. os olhinhos azuis ficaram impressionados com a coisa, disse-lhe para tentarem investir no desenho á mão, basta querer...

quanto ao Franky, esse, ó dio mio, não tem esperança... assim que lhe disse para tentar desenvolver a ideia que tinha no papel, tirou da MOCHILA um bloco de PAPEL MILIMÉTRICO e 3, 3!!!!!!! réguas!!!!!!!!
esse vai ser mesmo engenheiro... os outro pode ser que não! ;)

adorei a experiência e espero um dia voltar a repetir... e não só a substituir outro "master".

this could make me wonder...

2008-03-06T10:47:00.002Z

"i'm calling you first because you're the most difficult..."

said a friend when she called me to invite me to her bday dinner...

just for us...

2008-02-21T09:05:00.003Z

visto faltarem 43 dias para nos vermos em terras irlandesas eu peço-te... tenta ir ver este filme, diz-nos respeito... eu farei o mesmo.
ou então quem sabe, o podemos ver juntas em Dublin no dia 03.04.2008

ano novo: vida nova

2008-02-17T10:57:00.006Z

Sim, não leste mal. Sim , estou aqui... e sim, é um novo ano. Na china.

Raramente se tem duas oportunidades como esta, e não tendo conseguido até agora cumprir a única resolução de fim de ano que insisto em fazer - escrever no blogue, por uma causa mais que nobre -, vai que na semana passada, posta a teoria da relatividade em prática, me vejo envolvida num acontecimento imposssivel de ignorar. Daqueles que não mudam as nossas vidas mas que se podem indentificar como catalizadores de uma enchorrada de acontecimentos.

Vinha do atelier por uma rua estreita, que se torna ainda mais estreita por causa de uma paragem de autocarro, e nesse aperto uma invasão de gente pequenina como eu, envergando fatos brilhantes de cores de pedras preciosas e muita lantejoula de plástico a fingir de ouro, derrama sobre a rua um som estridente e metálico misturado com muita batucada ao ritmo do qual se agitavam estandartes com mensagens que eu não conseguia ler. Mesmo que soubesse chinês, eles abanavam as bandeiras com tanto entusisamo...

Saíram da porta de um super mercado minúsculo que fica mesmo ao lado de um enorme onde toda a gente vai comprar batatas fritas e garrafas de bebidas energéticas.

O som estridente e de uma amplitude impressionante não parecia estar a ser produzido por aquele mar (eram para aí uns 30, mas o som fazia pensar tratar-se se um exército) de pessoas minúsculas. Parecia que um gigante tinha aberto as portas de um armário de onde tinham caído todos os tachos, panelas, pratos, copos e talheres gigantes como ele e que tudo se estilhaçava no chão da Georges Street. E os chineses celebravam, mesmo que o seu dragão não tivesse uma cauda digna de sessão de uma abertura dos jogos Olímpicos de Pequim - na verdade eram só dois homens bastante descoordenados, um para a cabeça outro para o rabo -, anunciavam à cidade a chegada do novo ano.

Só em casa, no google, consegui averiguar tratar-se do ano do Rato. Não custava nada terem uns ratos desenhados nas bandeiras!

O que é certo é que desde esse momento, a cada dia que passa sem escrever no blogue ouço um tilintar metálico na minha cabeça, até que hoje foi a primeira coisa que me ocorreu já consciente depois do sono. E aqui estou, porque do mesmo modo que naquele dia procurei o telemóvel no bolso e estiquei o braço no ar para registar o momento, há tanta coisa a contecer digna de registo, e parece que me esqueço que esta é a melhor forma de partilhar.

Realmente estes chineses são mesmo engraçados. Passam o ano todo a baixar a a cabeça cada vez que vou ao seu supermercado e digo "olá" ou aqui no prédio quando digo obrigada por segurarem a porta, e de repente vai de agitar a cidade desta maneira e de plantar na minha cabeca este cântico de harmonia estranha, que desde aquele dia soa cada vez que recebo um mail com mais uma novidade, mais um bocadinho de vida para viver.

Parece que este "mighty mouse" anda empenhado na sua missão de nos trazer um ano inesquecível. Feliz ano novo.

"voçê é igual ao Carlos Paião"

2008-02-10T09:51:00.000Z

a senhora que nos parou na rua quando eu a o A.T. e o Pedro falávamos em português, dizia isto super contente enquanto olhava intensamente para oA.T.

"o quê?" - disse eu aterrorizada - "não parece nada"
"é igual, e eu que gostava tanto dele" - dizia ela entre suspiros

não descansei enquanto não cheguei a casa e procurei imagens do Paião...
quem conhece o meu A.T., sabe...

SÃO IGUAIS! credo!!!!!!!!!! é de chorar a rir!

my sweet little...

2008-01-29T10:06:00.000Z

Rosie... with these words i say hello...

...it's funny how for nine months i have waited to write down your name, to hear the sound of it, and now here you are and your name sounds just perfect to me.
throughout these months i made your mommy so much apple crumble to get her to spit out your name that i thought you'd be born hating this sweet desert, of course you should know that this desert has become part of our lives and we cannot live without it... so if you have developed some sort of allergy of even a hate for it, sorry Rosie, but we'll discuss it when you're 18.

anyway, i'm not writing this to give you the recipe, but to actually introduce myself.
i am Miss Portugal, yes i know, it's funny, charming maybe, but i'm stuck with it, and if you're anything like your mother, you'll be very proud to have a friend with this name... or at least you can show off at nursery to your baby friends. but you can call bicuka...
i'm very happy to meet you. you finally arrived, and i have very few words to describe how happy i am for you, for your mommy and daddy.

the truth is you won't probably know me very well, i won't live here for much longer now, and that already makes me sad, i simply adore your parents, they to me have been so amazing that no amount of apple crumble will ever repay them.
of course i see much more of your mother, we have little rituals of our own. she has always had a smile for me whenever i'm a bit sad and it's always been fun being with her, of course she has killer coffee at her place, and i make sure that whenever i go there i haven't had any coffee that day so that it will taste even better.

i wanted to welcome you to this world, to your life really, it may seem a bit scary sometimes and believe me it is still, but i guess no matter how scared it makes you feel, or how upsetting and nonunderstanding it is, you have to really be able to get through it. i have learned that whatever the world gives me, good or bad, sweet or mean, it is my choice to grab it with both hands and try, at least try to not fall apart... eveything you chose to do will always be good for you.
you're maybe very tiny to understand, but like i said i won't be here probably when you will, and even when you're older it may take some time. we all make mistakes and we all make great choices, but each one will develop into something so much greater, and those mistakes become memorable challenges, and those good become, well, probably wonderful...
someone said to me once and i pass it on to you "bicuka, you made a big mistake, but you made it because you tried."

this is basically it, first you will be challenged by your first sounds, your first colors, your first words... first steps, and as life goes on challenges become bigger, but you'll also be growing and challenges grow with you. and so will we.
those who will, no matter what, want be part of your life, (even far away): ME, 'd like you to know that they'll always be here, for you... just like for your mommy and just like she has been here for me.

lots of love and best wishes for your first adventure... give a big cuddle to you mommy and daddy for me... they deserve so much more... they deserve you.

you friend and "auntie"
a.k.a.bicuka

heath ledger... 28

2008-01-23T10:50:00.000Z

então miúdo... o que é que se passou?

...se calhar pela idade igual a mim, mas isto hoje deixou-me um bocado atarantada... darjeling lembras-te das 10 things?

...boh

lisbon story 3

2008-01-22T10:55:00.000Z

eu já te tinha dito muitas vezes que um dos meus filmes preferidos onde a cidade de Lisboa é protagonista, é o filme de 1994 de Wim Wenders, "Lisbon Story". até já tinha escrito aqui no blog algumas vezes posts dedicados á minha própria versão de Lisbon Story... dedicámos até o que pensámos poder tornar-se tradição, os passeios anuais do blog pela cidade que nos diz tanto.

os passeios em blogcompanhia não deram muito certo, funcionou 1aninho, no 2ano já ninguém respondeu, mas eu cada vez que volto a casa, faço muitas Lisbon Stories... não resisto. e há uns anos atrás, enquanto andava eu a passear amigos italianos pós-erasmus por essa cidade da qual morro de saudades, decidi fazer do passeio uma busca... a busca pelos cenários do filme.

as vistas, essas foram fáceis de encontrar. foram tantas que muito provavelmente vimos mais do que se devia para seguir o filme, mas é dificil tentar reduzir em número... Lisboa tem vistas que fazem parar qualquer um, até uma alfacinha como eu.

mas nada de se perceber qual era o cenário que serviu para a casa da personagem principal, e onde os Madredeus ensaiavam durante o filme... perguntei, pedi, implorei que alguém me dissesse se no longínquo ano de 1994 se lembrava de uns alemães terem filmado qualquer coisa por aqueles lados... houve quem dissesse "ai menina, aqui na nossa cidade passam a vida a filmar, nós já somos todas famosas de tantos filmes que já fizeram... já não consigo lembrar-me de todos!"

estive ali, a subir e a descer ruas, entrar nas lojas, nos cafés, até entrei na casa de um fotógrafo holandês que me deixou entrar no seu atelier e cozinha para ver se da janela eu ia conseguir perceber de onde foram filmadas as vistas do filme... nada... ele ficou mesmo triste porque até disse que Lisboa também o conquistou quando viu esse filme, disse-lhe que voltaria quando o encontrasse.

ter que ser no ano de 2008, em férias em Lisboa enquanto andava com o meu pai á procura de uma barraquita para talvez comprar, quem sabe, fui levada como nos bons velhos tempos pela sua mãozinha até ao Palácio de Belmonte. quantas vezes já passei por aqui, neste pátio semi-público para ir ao Castelo, ou pura e simplesmente porque faz parte dos meus passeios... entrámos, e pedi como arquitecta para ver o interior, já estava feliz por ter conseguido entrar ali, porque sem o meu pai nem sequer teria pensado nisso, mas fiquei ainda mais quando subi uns degraus e dei de caras com uma sala enorme, cheia de azulejos nas paredes, pareceu-me muito branca, como se já estive estado ali, mas não com as paredes tão limpinhas... perguntei ao senhor que nos acompanhou "mas... parece a sala onde filmaram o "lisbon sotry""
"e é mesmo. filmaram mesmo da recuperação do edificio para se tornar em hotel. que engraçado que percebeu"

"é só o melhor filme de lisboa para mim"

foi melhor do que conhecer um actor famoso... liguei ao A.T. que estava no meio da neve em Milão... quando lhe contei onde estava... silêncio.
acho que ouvi lágrimas...

in the meantime...

2008-01-15T10:41:00.001Z

enquanto por aqui a Nathalie, a Monica, a Elsa, a Greet, o Philip, o Jo... e sei lá quem mais andam a ter bebés atrás de bebés... eu vou recebendo mais "filhotes" em casa... desta vez foi a sogra, que me deu esta linda ORQUIDIA. fui eu que a escolhi, mas mesmo assim adorei o presente!

...pelo menos estes filhos só requerem águinha uma vez por semana... os dos outros requerem bastante mais.

não dargeling, a menina da Greet ainda não saltou cá para fora, penso que 6a-feira será o dia x, assim pelo menos conseguimos ver "grey's anatomy" na 5a-feira em paz!

HELP

2008-01-14T18:06:00.000Z

alguém pode explicar porque é que eu vejo o meu blog com fundo branco quando devia ser PREEETTTTOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

LEITE-CREME

2008-01-12T16:33:00.000Z

...tens alguma receita de leite-creme para a troca???

queria experimentar esta semana mas quero uma receita boa... eu tenho muitas para a troca!!!!

eu não acredito no ano novo

2008-01-06T18:26:00.000Z

...pois é... a minha irmã já deve estar a rir outra vez, mas é verdade, eu não acredito no ano novo.
no último dia do ano não bebo champanhe (mas isso mesmo nunca), começo a comer passas ás 10:00 da manhã e só acabo já o ano vai a meio (aliás como todos os dias um pacotinho mini de passas), não me ponho em cima de cadeira nenhuma porque odeio meter os pés em cimas das cadeiras... e primeiro que me decida a tirar os sapatos, esquece. sempre me irritou o barulho das panelas, embora prefira do que fogo de artificio... odeio msgs de ano novo e nunca respondo porque recuso-me a gastar dinheiro nisso e fazer parte da primeira noticio no telejornal do dia 1 de janeiro e principalmente não acredito que naquele segundo, por mais desejos que se façam, que alguma coisa vai mudar...

eu acredito na esperança, claro, seria muito estúpido não acreditar, mas o que me deixa perplexa é que durante o ano todo, todos passam os dias a lamentar-se de mil e uma coisas, umas que talvez valem a pena, outras sinceramente... e naquele instante, só naquele segundo acham que umas passas e uns copos vão salvá-los de um ano menos bom. o ano tem 12 meses, 366 dias (este ano) e sei lá quantas horas... cada dia, mês, estação do ano é uma boa oportunidade de mudar o que nos incomoda... o segundo entre as 00:00:00 e as 00:00:01 do dia 1 de janeiro não serve mesmo para nada.

...não, não é verdade... serve, afinal até tem uma função... de há dois anos para cá percebi que afinal até tem função... naquele segundo penso logo "que bom, posso começar a escrever na agenda nova!!!"

este ano decidi outra vez por uma MOLESKINE mas pela edição limitada VERMELHA. é lindissima e já tem os aniversários de quase todos lá dentro. está pronta a ser usada... quem sabe o que o ano de 2008 me trás, mas para mim os anos ainda se contam como os anos lectivos, para mim o ano começa em setembro, é em setembro que eu olho para trás e sorrio pensando naquilo que fiz e não fiz...

este 2008 começou tranquilamente e com umas saudades enormes do meu A.T... estamso cheios de planos e sonhos, mas nada a ver com as 00:00:00! e tudo a ver com NÓS. somos nós próprios que mudamos o rumo dos nossos anos, dias, sonhos e esperanças... e isso desejo eu a todos, a ti. que possas viver estes proximos dias com vontade de viver os outros todos, com sonhos por concretizar e com calma para mudar o rumo das coisas que não te fazem feliz.

seja em 2008, setembro ou até 2009... vemo-nos lá.

ah, queria só mostrar que a chegada a Antuérpia foi bem sucedida... tinhas estas amiguinhas á minha espera, se alguém souber que tipo de flor isto é, faça o favor de me esclarecer. dank u wel

a já agora BOM DIA DE REIS que este sim é de acreditar... que saudades tenho dos almoços na casa da Bivó!

13.12.2007

2007-12-13T23:27:00.000Z

eu sempre, mas mesmo sempre, gostei de fazer anos. sempre achei esquisito que tu como tantos outros amigos não gostem. eu, desde o dia 11 de outubro, dia de aninhos da minha maninha começo logo a contar os dias para o dia 13 de dezembro. eu acho este dia o mais lindo do ano. tudo neste dia é positivo... tudo é "quase meu".

mas ontem, dia 12 de dezembro acordei com muito mau humor. tudo me chateou... até fazer o bolo de anos para levar para o ateliê já me aborrecia... tudo parecia chato, frio, e longe de ser o que eu escolheria ter por perto no meu dia.

credo... apetecia-me dormir 26 horas, as 24 do diea 13, mais a hora extra que ganho em Portugal, mais 1 para parecer mesmo que já tinha passado. quem me conhece bem deve pensar que eu tinha bebido, que não estou bem da cabeça porque nunca num estado mental dito normal, ou pelo meno o meu normal, eu nunca pensaria coisas destas.
ora eu parecia outra.

ainda bem que logo pelas 2:30 da manhã recebo uma msg no tlm da minha amiga Elisa, que está neste momento na India a ensinar meninos a aprender inglês, a dizer que hoje iam cantar-me os parabéns todos juntos... ainda estava furiosa com o som do tlm áquela hora, mas de repente imaginei os miúdos a cantarem e lá também cantei como faço todos os anos "parabéns a mim" em 3 línguas mais em holandês inventado por mim.
o sorriso voltou e a vontade de viver o dia em pleno, naquilo que a chuva permitisse...

acordei cedissimo, sem conseguir voltar a fechar os olhos e pensei logo que já tinha passado 7 horas do meu dia a dormir, não valia a pena estar ali mais uma hora sem fazer nenhum.. assim decidi fazer um bolo, o meu bolinho de anos, outro, o primeiro, cheesecake metia dó... por isso decidi fazer outro, mais divertido e com mais sabor a festa!

fui a correr para o ateliê e acabei lá na nossa cozinha de fazer o bolo, a andar sempre de bicicleta não podia levar um bolo com chantilly nos sacos de trás, por isso levei tudo, até a batedeira, mais as natas, mais o açucar, mais as framboesas mais as uvas para acabar o bolo em grande.

quando cheguei tinha 4 colegas á minha espera, cantaram "happy birthday" e até levaram velas para eu fazer um desejo... que fique bem claro que ninguém no meu ateliê, embora leve bolo (sempre comprado na padaria da esquina) leva com velas e canções de parabéns, ninguém recebe cartões e nem presentes... eu tinha 3 cartões na mesa e um presente de um colega meu, o Domien ofereceu-me um dvd de PILATES mas nos anos 80... tipo Jane Fonda, daqueles que tu gostas mãe... ele diz que tem outro mas este era muito importante!!!!

não havia razões para duvidar que este ia ser um dia muito bom.
o telefone não parou da tocar, chamadas e mensagens, tantos mails. cheio de surpresas... mal sabia eu.
o Domien tinha-me dito que tinha deixado outro cartãozinho para mim, dele e da namorada, na minha caixa do correio, mas como eu odeio ver o correio de manhã, prefiro lidar com as ocntas de electricidade de noite quando é tarde demais para pagar nesse dia, não o vi.
claro que quando cheguei ao meu prédio olhei logo para a caixa para ver se o via, não vi... pensei que se tivesse enganado na caixa, comecei a subir as escadas e ao mesmo tempo á procura do número de telefone dele para lhe ligar e para me descrever exactamente em que caixa tinha metido o cartão, mas nem deu tempo, tive que abrir a porta e mal acendi a luz da sala, ainda com os mil casacos e cachecóis, de mala ainda a tiracolo, de luvas ainda nas mãos, dei com dois cartões claramente de parabéns em cima da mesa...

o que se passou a seguir durou acho eu nem 2 segundos... mas parecia muito mais tempo. vi os cartões, pensei que então o A.T. tinha estado em casa... mas se tinha estado em casa enganou-me, mas então se me enganou é porque anda a tramar alguma, se anda a tramar alguma deve ser o meu presente... e se é o meu presente é porque já cá está em casa... e antes que eu pensasse onde poderia ele esconder o que pensava fosse um anel... do canto do olho vi que algo ingonbrante estava a 20cms dos meus pés...

a cadeira dos meus sonhos... EAMES ROCKING CHAIR!!!!!! acho que mandei um berro... ou daqueles berros que em vez de sair para fora vão para dentro, quase susto+surpresa+choque+alegria+medo tudo junto num só som. olhando para trás parece mentira... aquela cadeirinha que eu sempre sonhei ter mas nunca imaginei que iria mesmo ter... aquela cadeirinha que o A.T. sabe que eu tinha feito há anos uma promessa que quando tivesse um filho adoraria ter esta cadeira de baloiço para lhe dar de mamar e cantar canções de embalar, estava ali á minha frente.
nem coragem de m sentar tive... chorei baba e ranho, literalmente ranho porque ontem eu tinha pensado em dormir o dia todo sem querer pensar no esforço que alguns fazem porque me querem bem e dar-me um dia muito especial.
eu quase quis perder um presente que significa muito mais que um cadeira onde me sentar... eu quase perdi um dos momentos mais felizes da minha vida.

ele há coisas...
tá bem que pode não ser um sonho enorme... demasiado dificil de concretizar... mas nunca, nunca eu pensava que is ter a minha própria EAMES ROCKING CHAIR.

eu amei... e agora posso dizer que adoro ter 28 anos... sentada no meu baloiço a pensar o que será ter 29???!!! ;)

obrigada Darjeling pelo pedido que fizeste por mim á Sr. Cegonha, mas ela anda mesmo ocupada... farta-se de enganar na morada e anda a deixar bébés por todo o lado menos na minha... enfim, se calhar tenho que falar com o meu pai, ele sabe onde é a loja dos bébés, assim posso ir ao mesmo sítio onde ele me foi encomendar. ...long story...

Olha para o céu!

2007-12-13T21:36:00.000Z

O que eu mais gostava de te oferecer hoje não posso.

Mas juro que fiz a encomenda e em vez de escrever ao pai natal que é o santinho mais a mão nesta quadra em que nascemos, - e até porque já não temos idade para acreditar que ele existe, mas ainda precisamos de sonhar e confiar em qualquer coisa a medida que crescemos - fechei os olhos e deixei que o vento levar o meu pedido ao seu destino.

Pelos vistos a nossa amiga anda muito atarefada com tanto baby a nascer por todo o lado, à nossa volta... também lhe lembrei da nossa combinação para que não se esqueça e coordene as entregas ; )

POSTED BY DARJELING

ps_cupcakes são a minha perdição. Amei.

bazaruto

2007-12-12T09:00:00.000Z

if i hadn't been there myself not even the images of google earth would've made me believe it was true.
the island of Bazaruto takes literally your breath away... of course there were 50 degrees under the sun and that basically took out your breath. but the gigantic dune of sand (duh) in front of me seemed so amazing i couldn't stop laughing. there was nothing i could do but laugh... say "shit!" and thank God in a low voice thanking him to let me live long enough to see this.

i kept looking around me, almost as if to let the world know about it, i wanted to say "i'm here" "i've made it" and "it's real", i would've called everyone to let them know, but in a place like this there is no place for mobile phones... none whatsoever. the telephones were dead... and with that slowly i realised this was a moment in a lifetime where someone drops you off in a corner of the world and tells you to enjoy it to the fullest for 1 whole day.

i did...

there were no colors except for blue, light blue, dark blue, pink blue, yellow blue, white blue, green blue, sea blue, turquoise blue, orange blue... whatever blue, it was there... i saw all the different tones of blue... actually i now believe there is only one color on this planet, BLUE... the rest humans created from it.

wherever you looked you saw space... almost but different as in Gorongosa, only here it was the ocean... the so beloved Indian Ocean my mother says it's the most beautiful she's ever seen... as i sat on that warm and soon-to-be very hot sand i took deep breaths and smiled, laughed, probably cried thinking i almost ended up missing this... and i was surprised by the tricks and trips your mind does when it's confronted with a place like this.
the first question couldn't be other than "what the heck am i doing in belgium?" and the next one wasn't a question... it was a goal "what if i lived here, would i see it like i'm seeing it now? is it possible to take this for granted? to forget that it exists? will the cold of belgium make me too sensitive for these things or will it make it dissapear too soon from my mind?"

i guess that's just up to me...
the same way my family always made sure i knew exactly what it was like to live here and how the dirt smelled, how the sun burnt, how the wind blew, how the trees swayed and how the monkeys laughed, i am trying to explain how blue the ocean is, how warm the sand felt, how far the horizon layed, how red i became, how happy A.T. was and how scary it was at first to jump in the water later on and snorkle for the first time...
see bicuka, it's not that scary they said... Antonio held my hand, this young dark guy, held my hand so i wouldnìt stay inside the boat... i wasn't scared of the water, i'd live in water if i could, it wasn't because i couldn't swim, i love to swim... but the thought of looking down upon another type of life felt like i'd be intruding on someone's life... and also because it's like being afraid of heights upside down... i'm not afraid of heights, but i can't, or couldn't conceive the idea of swiming with fishes... Antonio made sure i was calm... i saw starfishes bigger than my dinning table, goldfishes bigger that rocks and rocks that actually were just coral swaying slowly with the water... there were no sounds, no noise, no voices... just me and a chocolate colored hand in mine and billions of life beneath my body...

AND i found Nemo! i did, i did... he even winked at me.
it was probably the sun... he made me allucinate, but i swear it was Nemo.

tomorrow we're heading to Maputo... it's been a long month, a long trip down memory lane... and a great trip to my inner self.

vilanculos

2007-12-11T23:31:00.000Z

i haven't been writing any dates on this "diary"... i wrote on the first post and then completely forgot... maybe unconciously i don't want to see how long it's been... but if i had remembered you'd noticed that between the last post, about Gorongosa and now, there has been a gap, a gap of almost 2 full days.

i'll explain why.
after fixing, or better, having had the flat tire fixed FOR us, by great people, i drove like a mad woman towards Vilanculos... between Gorongosa and Vilanculos there is the AMAZING DESERT of SOFALA... the desert of the SAVE RIVER, which on our way north almost left me out of breath, or at least until i discovered that the little jeep had airco.

the trip went well, no problems with the hotel reservations for on our way up we slept in the same hotel and reserved 3 more nights for a week later. the idea was to sleep 3 nights, 1 day for Vilanculos and 1 day for Bazaruto and Benguerra, after the 3rd night we'd get up very early and head to Maputo.

... i lost 1 day... or maybe i actually won one.

when we got to Vilanculos, already at night because no matter how many times i was told not to drive at night, it's almost impossible to arrive anywhere before 6pm, so, we got there with not a lot of trouble, i knew Vilanculos by heart now because of the other night and it made things easier to get to our own soft bed later. but A.T. was having a hard time with his stomach, he was wishing for a very private bathroom when there were still almost 200kms to arrive, and with that if you add a couple hundred craters in the middle of the road making easier for you to drive on the fields next to it than actually on it, you can imagine that all the shaking wasn't helping him. i tried, but i couldn't go faster than 11okm/h which was already a lot for such bad roads.

i laughed all the way though, A.T. was in pain and i laughed. talk about being punished for laughing at other people's suffering!!!!!
we arrived, A.T. used the toilet... which made me decide i'd go much later, let some air in, and we decided to go out for dinner earlier than usual. i was exhausted and i think he could use some sleep also, like children he can get a bit cranky.
so back to the main hotel restaurant and i ordered a hamburger... well the owners are from Zimbabwe, and i couldn't eat another "prego" or "frango piri-piri", and i ate it with apetite, very hungry...

it didn't take even 10minutes, i was in pain... my aunt Nelinha called me then asking the latest news, made fun of me eating a hamburger in Mozambique and wished me a good stay in Vilanculos... she was the last to talk to me before everything started going wrong. the pain in my belly reminded me of those awful period cramps i used to have before my surgery, and my head starting pounding worse than my daily migraines. i knew A.T. would've like to stay out a bit more, but my head starting spinning and i couldn't focused anymore.

back in out little cabin i couldn't figure out what was wrong so i took some digestive medicine, ENO, and hope i'd just burp this pain away. fat chance.
i had to lay down, hoping that it wouldn't make it worse, i started sweating and my head was pounding like there was a live concert of a bad band inside it.

sleep caught up with me after i think 30minutes, and i don't even remember A.T. kissing me goodnight, which probably also means he didn't but i hope he did. it didn't last long... i was awake at 00:00... ah ya, you don't know that i fell asleep at around 21:30... too early. anyway, at 00:00 i was turning and turning in the bed trying not to cry with so much pain... A.T. also woke up, upset telling me to just go sleep in the bathroom... i understand, i actually woke him up on purpose, i hate being awake by myself in the middle of night (don't tell him because he still thinks he wakes up by himself and voilá i just happen to be awake also), so i decided to swallow another spoon full of ENO, if i could just BURP!!!!!!!

in our room there were no spoons, vanished, so i dumped a "bit" of powder in a bottle of water, it was then i noticed the water i was drinking was the one i stole from the last hotel in Gorongosa, actually it was free but i still didn't ask if i could take it, it's name was NAMAACHA, so that's why there was no water in the waterfalls!!! i get it!
anyway... i drank that disgusting thing, and stayed for a few moments staring at the mirror praying that i would be ok in 5 seconds...
i burped...
i went back to bed.

01:30 - i woke up again with the urge of going to the bathroom, so i did... i was still walking ok. as i washed my hands and put some cold water on my face... my legs started shaking, i couldn't stand up anymore and i couldn't stop sweating cold sweats... i fell to the ground.
i don't recall exactly how long i was there, but i knew i was talking, i think i only said 3 words, "A.T." or "daddy" or "mommy", it was strange because i couldn't really understand what i was supposed to do to get up or to do anything... eventually he came in, he has this cappacity to just stand there as if it's all too wierd, so i know for sure that i got up on my own.

i also was able to walk back to bed, but i just couldn't stay put.
i had no strengh to fight the pain in my stomach and now the awful taste i had in my mouth...

4:00: i opened my eyes, stared at the ceiling for a second, decided to get up again and try again to go to the bathroom but stay up this time. no way jose!
i didn't even finish thinking of a strategy, that i was already on my side with everything i had eaten the previous day come out of me like a fountain. i even ran out of breath. i couldn't coordinate the vomit with my breathing so i started having an ashma attack and freaking out, trying to scream A.T.'s name and hoping he'd help me... tears even started coming out of my eyes, and in the meantime i was loosing my forces, i couldn't feel the arm that was holding me and my head from falling right in the middle of all that gooey stuff.

"go to the bathroom!" he shouted.
"i can't, i can't..."
so he helped... but as soon as i sat down on the ground with my head stuck in the toilet, he was gone. i couldn't figure out why.

he was so disgusted, that he went outside of the cabin, sat down on the porch and only came in almost 1hour later when i had thrown everything out of me and more, cleaned the bathroom, and cleaned the floor in our room, washed the mosquitonet hanging above the bed (they are so long that of course it was impossible not to get it dirty, and only when i told him everything was cleaned he was able to walk in... he said "i'm sorry"... but to this day i have never felt so shocked. no matter how gross it could've been i would've never left him alone and i felt ashamed for having been sick.

of course, at that moment i only wanted to get back to sleep, try to at least arrive to the morning and hope that i could talk to someone who would know a great medicine to not let it happen again. and again i was wrong, i slept until 9:00, i think in total i slept 5hours and badly, i woke up with a fever and the right side of my boby completely numb. my neck was so sore and my head about to explode. there was no way i was getting out of bed.

malaria?

everyone who called me that day got the same report i just gave you, every detail because someone had to give me a clue of what was happening, i needed to get up so A.T. and i could go to the islands, it was my birthday present to him, but like this i just couldn't. i think i cried all day, when he wasn't looking i cried because i felt useless and i felt that i was stopping him from doing whatever he felt like. he can't drive, and doesn't want to learn how to, so basically means he was stuck with me... thankfully he went out to the beach for the afternoon, which was just 3m from our front door, while the owner of our lodge stayed with me, gave me cookies, gasless coca-cola, tee, water and some biscuits. and also a few drugs!

i couldn't wait any longer, called a few people, even without a voice and with all my boby aching i called a few people from Mozambique and Portugal and got a contact of a doctor here in Vilanculos, he was not working anymore and i'd have to wait for the morning to get a proper Malaria test.
Malaria????!!!! really?
oh goodness, that would mean that i'd have to miss out going to the islands, that A.T. was going to stay here bored one more day... i confessed to the owner of the lodge that i was feeling like crap that he couldn'te go to the islands, i didn't care anymore, all i wanted was to get back to Maputo and be close to people i know.
she was kind enought to offer to drive me to the hospital in Vilanculos the next morning, and pick me up afterwards. she also offered me a free night and she put our names in a list of the passengers of a boat that would be heading out to Bazaruto the day after.
basically she allowed me to still give A.T. his birthday gift, and allowed him not to regret this whole trip.

this meant that we stayed 4 night in Vilanculos. 1 day i was in bed all day, vomiting and not able to move anything on my right side. 1 day to visit what they call a hospital, having a blood test in the middle of dozens of people, they have beautiful babies by the way, you should've seen the hospital... gosh, there are things you just can't get them to understand... but then again, why worry about nurses who wash the patient bedsheets on the ground when they're all dying of AIDS? the day of the hospital visit, it was funny now that i think about it, i tried walking to the beach and getting a bit of sun, tried to explain to everyone that it hadn't been malaria but probably the water NAMAACHA which had been declared filthy for human beings, but i ended up drinking 3 litters of it! if felt good to go outside though... and seeing for the first that amazing blue people talk about when they visit paradises.

i found it to be beautiful... and i found out that the reason A.T. was gone for so long the day i stayed in bed, was because he had found already a new friend... another dog!

this time, i think his promise to take his driver's license is for real...

parque nacional da gorongosa

2007-12-10T21:00:00.000Z

So until now, no sight of elephants, or lions for that matter... none whatsoever... where were these beasts? Weren't they supposed to just walk around amongst humans all over Africa? It's not like they can hide, can they??

After arriving at Gorongosa National Park, already after dark even though it were only 5pm... my goodness can night be dark in Africa... we ate and went into our cabin, but because after 9pm the park shuts off its generator, lights must be out, so all you can really do is either be inside sleeping, or outside looking at that amazing sky. It's hard to take pictures of such a sky, but I guess that's what and african sky must be like, it's only for those who look up and stay there staring... for those who take time to try to count how many stars there are, because here there are a lot more, so much more, you don't know from which to start wishing.

It tooks us about 20minutes to realise that we were still there, standing in the darkness, with our necks hurting from looking up... we were speechless, tired, exhausted, and speechless. no words in my vocabulary could start describing it... and the most beautiful thing of all was remembering something my daddy use to always tell us to make us confused "girls, the moon in Africa is always smiling!"

Again, he wins... the moon smiles every single night. It stays there for hours on end with the biggest smile... he was right, he was lucky to have seen it for so long... he was able to make us jeaulous, but I was able to see it for myself.

Life at the Gorongonsa starts early... be it because you sleep so early with the lights out, or be it because those freaky monkeys wake you up with their wild parties right at around 4am... you know... I thing I like them better in the zoo!

They tell us not to feed the animals that might come near the cabins... and I thought monkeys would only come for food if they were taught to get it from humans... not really, it's in their instinct to smile and do funny-monkey things to steal food from you... so in reality, in the zoo, when they steal stuff from your hand it's not a trick they've learned from the zoo keeper... it's in their blood!
Anyway... enough about monkeys. We decided to do our first SAFARI. Yeah... I never thought I'd do such a thing, kind of makes me feel ridiculous sitting in a jeep with a lot of people trying to spot animals... all I wanted was to see an actual elephant.
The jeep was empty, just Jonathan the driver, a blond blue-eyed Zimbabweian, me and A.T. It looked even more weird to be in such a big "car" where you basically jumped from side to side whenever you drove through a tough road... ALWAYS!
We saw a lot of birds, Joanathan tried, but sorry birds aren't really my thing, but I did spot a lot of different ones, sometimes I did it on my own... nevertheless I was just looking for elephants. Bambis were also all around us, they get scared of turists, so out of the 200 I saw I was only able to photograph about 90.
Also Pumbas (well it's not my fault you haven't seen "the lion king", just the best walt disney old-fashioned movie ever) were following us, also scared of turists, but I was able to photograph them more... but boy, are these creatures UGLY!!!! really, besides being actually of a dark gray color, with long rat-hair, they also walk around with dry mud all over their bodies to capture the bugs that live on them... they also run like girls shaking their hair out of their eyes, and they should go to a dentist... really, such a dissapointment... I really thought I would get an autograph from the Pumba in the movie, but I was glad we were far away.

Crocodiles... yes, I did see one... well I saw one, and then next to it I saw another pair of eyes, which probably would mean there was another one next to it, but because I'm really scared of crocodiles, I like to think it was just 1.
Monkeys, of course... so many it was almost too much, I made a few movies, and really these animal are very funny at times... there were a lot of mommies with tiny babies on their backs. good to know they're keeping themselves busy out here.

Lions? none
Giraffes? not even one
Buffalos? there aren't any yet
Hippos? ...
Zebras? do they actually exist?

"...I really just came for the elephants. Jonathan could you please call one to show up just for the picture, really it's a bit embarassing going back to europe and having no pictures of my favorite big animal...
by the way, what's that gigantic hole in the ground, has there been a meteor shower here lately??? ah ah ah ah"
"that is an elephant footprint"

"AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH RUUUUUNNNNNN!"

Ok so I panicked, you should've seen the size of that thing, I don't care if I never see an elephant, I'll just tell my kids the only elephant they should see is Dumbo.
...a few days amongst the wild creatures of Africa. So all I actually got to see to be proud of, were 2, I mean 1 crocodile and too many monkeys for 1 human being... and a giant Dumbo footprint.
Not bad. I guess it takes 2 trips to Gorongosa to see more.
The Carr Foundation is making sure anyone who ever visits this beautiful place will one day see what they always dreamed of seeing, the real wild life of Africa. They have 30 years to do it, we have all our lifes to make it happen, and why not even help them. Just going there and learning of the amazing work they're doing already helps so much.
Plus, the 1rst class treatment you get at the CHITENGO lodge, is worth all the rest, such as monkeys in your front yard, Pumba's breaking through the fence of the lodge pool and the funny flat tire I found on my jeep the morning I had to drive 600kms to Vilanculos.

I guess in Mozambique, you can't really predict too much, we wanted to leave at 5am, we ended up leaving at 8am... I didn't even have to sweat and lift a finger (which just basically means I still can't change a tire, I'm one of the best woman-driver parking ;), but don't ask to change a tire... I didn't even see it was flat!), there were about 6 men doing it for me.
Ah the beauty of holidays!!!

...little did I know that holidays sometimes have very non-beautiful moments... i'll see you in Vilanculos.

10.12.2007

2007-12-10T20:00:00.001Z

LILY ROSE
"51cm di bellezza allo stato puro"

machipanda

2007-12-07T20:09:00.000Z

Before lifting off from Lisbon to Maputo, I warned Aldo and hugged him, I told him he'd have to be patience with me... or at least for what could be me in such an important place. You don't control your emotions, and I knew somewhere in this endless country I would shead a tear.
I guess I imagined it would be in the great beaches of Tofinho, or the 1920's house in Beira, probably not Maputo, but maybe even Manica with the big pool... no. I was wrong, and looking back, Machipanda was the place it had to happen.

This was the town that made me cry. (great for a book title)

We were driven there by this Canadian colonist wanna-be, a funny man, wearing socks 'till his knees, with the weirdest accent I've heard, A.T. only smiled, sometimes worried he's be saying "sim" when he should've said "não senhor". This.... oh, I forgot his name... hmmm, I hope it comes back to me, anyway he drove us there in his wear-out jeep, one of those with the continuous seat in front and an open back... well, dargeling, girls, if you ever sit in a jeep such as this one, remember: THE SHIFTS ARE IN THE MIDDLE! yup, I sat in the middle, thinking it'd be cool to sit there... not when the driver needs to put the 4th shift!!!!!! really, it's really scary to have someone suddenly going with their elbow straight to your... well, you know. Actually on the way back, A.T. sat there... he says boys shouldn't either!!!!

Mr. What's-the-name drove us there, asked by the guy who thought he's in charge, to give me a tour of what I could find once belonged to my past. As you drive in this town you literally see the entrance and the exit, you see it's limits, and you understand how small it is.
It did remind me of my mother's parents' town in Portugal, Soalheira, close to Fundão in the Serra da Gardunha (i think). Around Machipanda there are amazing big hills, just around the corner is Zimbabué, it looks peaceful from here...
I think I was able to count 3 streets... a few roads, about 20 houses, and the thing they're so proud of, the train station. Now, this station was once the connection between Zimbabué (Rodésia) and the Indian Ocean, it made it possible for the english merchandise to reach the port of Beira and from there the ports of the world. Not bad for such a tiny town.

My mother was born in Beira, just like her sister, but they lived here all their childhood... as you can see, I did this backwards. This is where I thought she lived with lions, and elephants and snakes... but all I saw were a few fat chickens and a bunch of scary-cat monkeys. Really, monkeys! again...

I guess, until you see where they live, and where they grew up, maybe the school where they did all sorts of bad things, and where they learned to read, the pool where they swam, the beach where they dreamed, the tree where they kissed or the road they had an accident, all you can do is smile, take the photo and tell them "it's still here mom, really your elementary school desk is still here!"

...but when you walk into a place, a place such as the "11th November" bar that my grandpa built and served in as his hobby giving free drinks to my mom's friends (not to the boyfriends) when they visit. the bar my granpa gave to a man when he decided to run away from what would be a very long war and revolution. He gave that man his bar, all the papers, gave him a transfer of ownership, gave him money and told him to try to make his living on it.

what happens when you walk in a place like this and recognize from the pictures the bar, the dark wood bar with the high stools and see this small man with light gray eyes looking at you... behind him 20 bottles of whisky... there was nothing I could do but say "bom dia, I'm the grandaughter of Mateus Paulo Duarte"

"ah menina, a sua mãe esteve cá no dia 17 de fevereiro de 2004. lembro-me muito bem. sabe devia dizer ao seu avô para cá vir. eu queria que ele visse que tenho tomado conta disto."
("ah, your mother was here on the 17th of february of 2004. I remember it well. You should tell your grandfather to come here, I'd like him to see how well I've taken of this bar.")

of course you can't say these things to me and not think it wouldn't touch deep in my heart... because if you did, you don't know me. I cried... not just because it was a surprise to hear this man speak of my grandfather not knowing he has been dead for 12 years... but because I didn't even expect to see anyone on this trip who'd speak of him... he spoke like grandpa Mateus would be there in 5 minutes... he even added "you should also tell him that we have save all these years the trees he planted.."

ok stop... it hurts now. I cried in front of him, and in front of the kids who were there, because I missed him so much right then and there, I remembered him, and for a few minutes outside of that bar and looking out at his lovely cute small house I could hear him calling me, I could almost smell him. I actually think he was watching me. Hard to explain, but almost as if everyone, my mom, aunt and grandparents somehow found a way to make me really realise that all of this was real. I guess I hadn't understood how much this could affect me... but it did.

You can never doubt the importance, and the power of small towns... Machipanda is tiny, has a long name, it's also my mother's email address, but it's the biggest place in my heart in all of this travelling.

The canadian also drove us to Penhalonga... the most secretly kept botanical garden. trees longer than the distance from earth to heaven. Green leafs greener than mother nature. Air as pure as I never thought possible... I even choked with it... city girl!

We didn't stay long, almost as if there was a timer there telling us to leave so that the secret could still be kept within those hills and trees... it's a pity, but then again, it's a secret I know about now.
I couldn't stay long so I asked to drive us back to Manica where we were sleeping, Chimoio, ex-Vila Pery was our next pit-stop, I had to go in search of my mother's Boarding School, ah ok... now let's go.
We were heading towards our first non-family-related visit, the National Park of Gorongosa, we were about to see the real savanah, or we hoped.
They tell you knot to drive at night, but it was during that night, actually at 17:25, pitch black already, that I reached my 2000kms.

and I'm still alive... my butt though isn't.

Brian... that's his name!!!!

manica

2007-12-05T23:05:00.000Z

Manica is the name i'll give my child... not as a first name, as a second name... it's a name. Out of all the places I have been to in my life, there has never been a place where just as I pronounce the word I feel like I'm about to meet someone. That someone might just be my first little girl. She will inherit a second name that will make my mother and her big sister prouder than ever. She can do anything but with a name like that, they'll forgive them forever. With this, my good deeds in life will be done with! ;)

We arrived in this little telenovela lookalike town on my sister's birthday, the moment I saw that sign "MANICA" I knew it was the moment to say "happy birthday" to someone who'd understand why I'd have pick that spot. I was about to enter the real childhood of my mommy. Actually my mother did not spend her chldhood here, it was more her teenagehood, she went away to Boardingschool in Vila Pery, now known as Chimoio (which has already been chosen as our second child's second name if it's a boy... Umbeluzi just doesn't do it for us!), where she was VERY well behaved............ NOT!!!! while her parents lived in Manica. Not bad for spending your school holidays and ocasionally weekends, huh?
Was it fun waking up to this beautiful mountains and hills? Do you realize you simply forgot to tell me there were mountains in Mozambique? Africa? You always let me believe that you lived in places called "mato" in the sense lions were your pets, and elephants ate in your back garden... ok, you never told me that, but when you and Titi told me that you lived in places where you didn't even wear shoes, I presumed that meant you were part of the Tarzan and Mogli family...
no?
...hmmm... let me reprogramme my mind... ok, so I imagine that the pool you swam in on weekends wasn't a pond, huh? yes... I know, it was this huge Olympic pool... clean as you'd never imagined after 30 years, but still humangous. This was where you flirted with the town boys? This is where Titi gave her first kiss? I bet grandpa Mateus was happy for that, as he watched from his designed and contructed (yup, no architects in the family just wannabes!!) MANICA LODGE (known as MOINHOS back then) office window. I was very proud to see that whoever took it in charge, took care of it very well, the little windmill suites don't have their white sails anymore, but they look very cute, and in a country where Zimbabueians (??) are conquering all the hotels and lodges by storm, it was very conforting to know these people are keeping it comfy and cute, just like I'd imagine grandpa would.

I can't get over these mountains... was it always like this? Are you really sure mom this is the same Manica you lived in????? It's so wierd!!!

Oh... there's a monkey crossing the road!!!!!! aaaaahhhhhhhh ok, NOW, this is where you lived! uffa... I thought i'd have to give my child another name!

By the way, did I tell you my aunt had her 1rst comunion in this beautiful church (someone told me it was a cathedral... hmmm), abandoned... but on a hill. With a "via sacra", imitating the ones in Braga, really I'm not bragging, it was really like that, where you can see the whole town and almost a peek of Zimbabué...

and I thought this country wouldn't surprise me.
from city, to beach, to desert, to sweaty weather, to beach again, to smaller cities, to hills and to mountains... from total deserted places to green as nature should.

Manica touched me like any other place, in it's own particular way. Simply simple. The people I was in contact with weren't what I'd say, hospitable... actually I don't need to be nice, he wasn't at all the type of person I'b ever be around to, but my grandpa was his father's friend, really good friends, and of course I thought he would sit down with me and let me know everything I should about life back then. Well... to him, it had no importance what so ever... he showed the houses my family lived in, showed that church, showed the pool, showed the post office (?)... but from his car, driving at 200km/h, yelling at anyone who crossed our path, called people by their color, was rude, agressive, and surprisingly enough thought of himself as the king of Manica.
This I make a point to tell you because to me one of the saddest things I noticed in Mozambique, a lot of people who stayed after the independence, which I think is very honorable, believing in their state as a Mozanbican, now are most of it BOSSES, they just boss anyone around. All in the name of trying to impress. They didn't understand when I offered to washed my clothes by hand in a basin, he ordered the others to do it for me. I couldn't wait in line, because they'd make me pass in front of everyone, and couldn't understand when I'd refuse to.
"you're not very used to this are you?" they'd asked... well, not really and I'm in no hurry or in no place to be better or first than anyone... and it DOESN'T IMPRESS ME!

And to think so many people stayed to change the country from colonialism, and now, look where some are, doing eaxctly the same thing and even worse, not even looking around you. Of course probably for him he can afford to be like this because Manica is a tiny town... I guess you'd lower your little balls if you had to share!

Anyway... here in this green garden I saw a little bit of what people can really be in their worse, and apologizing to my mother, I told her that Manica dissapointed me. But I guess the people don't make the places, maybe places make people...

But then again, my grandparents lived there and were happy there for many years...
which makes me sure that because of that, my little girl will have MANICA in her name.
...will you still be her godmother?

to my dargeling

2007-12-04T19:45:00.000Z

www.rainhasdolar.com

just because you're you... a big windy happy birthday
bicuka..

beira 02

2007-11-30T21:41:00.000Z

Beira is as delicate as the sand on it beach, it's soft to the eyes, to the heart, it's as gentle as the wind that you feel in the morning.
It may seem like a bunch of crap to you, but that's how it seemed to me there. It was so easy to imagine living there, with a small house, garden, kids running around, it's easy to imagine you'd be calm and relaxed over there.
I decided to stay a day more than I had planned, I needed to feel that peace for one more day... one more morning, one more very hot afternoon. I needed to still search for something... something I'd been dreaming about for a very long time.
No, it wasn't just that almost white sand, that soft feeling of being able to walk on it in bare feet... nor the extension of those beaches. It wasn't the presence of that adorable lighthouse, which at night fills the beach with it's warning light, or the abbandoned houses right by the beach front just calling out for us... or me at least. It's impressive how quick I can calculate how much money it would cost to leave everything and come and live here. It wasn't even the rotted ship Macuti, which was put purposely put in the sand in front of the lighthouse as to protect the sand dunes from overfloods, to save the beach someone ingeniously thought of picking up a sunken ship below water and put it back on earth... but with a lifesentence, to save the beach. It's motor is impressively big, you wonder how gigantic it was when you see it's detail... but, even in my mother's childhood photos, it's there... noone could tell me more.
Maybe you'd think it was the actual Macuti Church, made in the 50's or 60's, I think, I'm actually making this up, but it's from that era for sure, you can tell... built practically on the beach, it is falling apart because of the salt from the ocean. The staircase outside is hanging by a thread, literally and it's amazing how the steal columns are still holding the roof. Destruction apart... it is absolutely breathtaking. And, detail I love, has it's own outside church... prepared for every season! It serves as a school, and very lucky those kids are... unless it falls, which by the way, I offer my services to restore it... I'll do it for free, well actually, I'll do it for a couple of hours at the beach per day! good for me!

But no... I wasn't looking for things things specifically in Beira. In 1921, a little girl was born here, the first of my family to be born overseas, the cute adorable girl who dreamed of being a pilot and flying, just like those after her, daddy and me, and who because of her grandaughters, decided to give up her dream, put away those wings and take care of us. Well, as much as I appreciate all those "croquetes" you've made grandma, I'd prefer you flying me around the world!!!
Anyway... that little girl, 86 years ago (i won't say 86 and 1/2, because it's good to keep her young) was born in a house, she told me it was after a bridge, a steal bridge, designed by Eifel...

She, and any of us, really imagined that 86 years after, that bridge, the one she claims was very close to her house, would end up collapsing, and being deslocated to the other side of town, or at least, if you stand where the bridge is now... there is no way you'll find that house... so, I decided to call her LIVE... but then I thought maybe it's better, if I have to spend so much money calling home, then I need the call to be efective: I called her sister. She's 10 years younger, almost, and has the memory of my huge exterior hard disk, she's a walking encyclopedia and my "google" for any subject... and I even found out that also her was born in the same house.
I expected the simple confirmation of "yes it's close to the bridge" or "no it's not". But like google, she'll be precise if the subject is interesting. "where are you?... ah, ok, so turn left at the bridge, go to the end of the street, you should find a white tower, it looks like a firemen exercise tower, but instead it was built to be the bell tower of the first Catholic Church of Beira, but apparently was never constructed, way before our time, it's white and it used to have a flag I think, now if you are standing in what seems like the front of it, then you look to the left, and you should see a house with an antique zinc roof..................."

Well, one more minute and I'd practically could've walked in and found my way to the actual bed they were born in... but the it was... still standing... filled with people who evaporated giggling as soon as I asked if they wanted to be in the photo, colors all over the place, but there it was.
I have a picture of my greatgrandfather, and his little girl, sitting on it's front steps... and here I am, 86 years later, standing in front of it's door... was there one???
I guess there are things in life you will never be able to explain to others, things like knowing where people you have grown to love have been... my children will probably never do this trip themselves, they won't probably fly off to Mozambique in search of their mother's, father's, grandparents', uncle's, aunt's, friend's past here, but they will know all the stories I lived, and if one day they come to Antwerp in search of this tiny appartment I'm in, then I want them to feel like this. That in one second, that second... it all made sense.

Beira made sense... it always will.

beira 01

2007-11-18T21:07:00.000Z

this won't be an easy post to write... too much information and too much pressure on making Beira sound like the best place we were in on our trip. well truth has it's way of creaping up on you and i cannot lie.

if i had to give an Oscar for surprise, then Beira would have it, definetely. It's not a busy, busy city like Maputo, maybe even a bit too stresless, too quiet, too small, but Beira is from another time, Beira wasn't created for 2007, it was made in 1907 and it keeps it's 10' and 20's look.
if you've ever been to Portugal dos Pequeninos in Portugal you'll know what i'm saying when i say that Beira, has a different scale, in all aspects.

I just can't get pass that wonderful smell of fruit trees, of the ocean right at your door step, houses that look old but so charmful, people who smile as you walk by without trying to sell things you'll never use, SUMOL on outside "esplanadas"'s tables, pastéis de nata made in the Riviera, beter than any other i've tasted... except the Belém ones of course (still portuguese!).

Beira is a... feminine city, just like Maputo would by my standards, be without a doubt a much more masculine place. Beira is feminine because when the wind blows, all the trees move like a light 1920's dress would, slowly. Maybe that is because i grew up with no other than 4 Beira women, it should be 5, but my dad's sister was only born there and moved when she was 3 to Lourenço Marques and declares herself completely "laurentina" (she's probably now telling herself that she won't get me anything for my birthday because i just said Beira is better!), and they are from different generations but to me Beira suited them perfectly.

there was another "woman" in Beira that made me sigh, the Central Train Station. well, we had to fight to be able to get these photos, ridiculously I had to use my influent family to be able to go to the director of the station and tell him that his boss allowed me to take photos... and surprising enough it worked. i swear i never used family this way... hmmm actually i did, when i had a blue card that allowed me to park anywhere, but anyway... (can't talk about it). they melted before me and allowed me to be by myself with A.T. in this amazing, empty, simple atrium where probably once had hundreds of people catching trains and now sadly is forgotten. they're doing a very good job in repairing the railway tracks all over Mozambique but the trains still don't move, and to this day there are no "people's trains" in this gigantic country. sadly... i'd prefer having travelled a bit on those trains, my grandfather would've loved it.
soon... i hope soon.

there are a lot of intelectual architectural phrases i could linger on with about this station, but the picture, i believe, speak for themselves. i tried so hard to capture that beautiful emptyness... i can't put all of them in here but maybe once you'll have time to sit with me and look at them carefully.
as i said before the women who grew up with me are from different generations, my grandmother (the pilot) and her sister, my mother and her sister (there a few more but not on a birthday and christmas basis), there are about 30 years separating them, and of course things were probably very different for each, but i bet they saw somethings the same way... or at least the same things... some of which i saw like they still remembered, others not really...

the Cathedral is back to it's original color, (next to the Radio PAX buildind and the Artes e Oficios School, on the radio they use to play "menina salta para as minhas costas"!!! translation by the deejay of the song "baby come back" it used to crack me up when my mom told me this story with "black/protuguese" accent!!!) my mother saw it 3 years ago and it was old and let go, but this year they repaint it and it's pure white, it was nice to get married there, right grandma? my mother's and aunt's former high school is still standing, grandious and still separated between boys and girls, who by the way have kept their side of the building spot clean and tidy. some of the girls asked me a lot of questions about Lisbon, about what it was like for my mother to study there, if i liked Beira, if i'd been to the beach because turists loved the beach eventhough they themselves never go there, if i and my husband (A.T. i presume) had children waiting for us back in Lisbon... and most of all they said something that i will keep forever with me "aaaahhh é tão bonita, parece uma actriz de telenovela"... ya, i know, it's hard for me! (ok, it's not from the cinema, it's just soap opera, but still, the idea was the beautiful part) ;)

i found Aunt Dana Michaelis on a restaurant wall, it's good to see family like that, she's been gone for a while now, but her drawings are spread out amongst art galleries, museums, family houses and in our hearts. it was amazing to see such a beautiful drawing, from one of her best works, the Mozambique collection in pen drawing.

and of course other buildings around town, where people use to shop, where people use to take sunday walks, such as the municipal square, or the walk toward the lighthouse where now a few abbandoned buildings creep up on you, and the mitical Grande Hotel, with it's own world inside, noone knows how many people now live there, but i counted from my far away standing point at least 5 trees, green and small, still, but so strong growing in between the walls of this massif building. apparently it use to be luxurious, it use to be magnificent, it didn't last long, the pool though, where now people wash their clothes in the water that is provided by the rain, was of public domain, but the building itself was always meant for the rich, well, i guess you should laugh at the contradictions of life sometimes, but this times, it's scary.

you wonder how they survive, the building eventhough still standing tall is loosing it's imponence, it's dying, the structure will one day give in, it windows are gone, the corridors bare, rats live amongst humans and you imagine what will happen... looking at it i knew in my heart we have to find a solution soon, those people one day will need something else, there are now 3 generations already living or have lived there, intire families, children who know nothing else. is there a sure solution? i have no clue, i hope maybe COOPI.it can help us find something to do, maybe they'll have ways of making it better. and i wanna go!

praia do tofinho

2007-11-06T20:25:00.000Z

one advice... experience speaking: whenever you travel and there are people you know who you will visit and they happen to say "i heard you're travelling north towards Beira, if you'd like you can sleep half way in a house i have at the beach"

ALWAYS, i repeat, ALWAYS accept it!
i don't know if i've made myself clear on this, you should never think twice, ok so there are sometimes really bad surprises (i will make sure you know of a bad result later on in the holiday report), but mostly, it's free, which means GOOD, and most of the time, cosy... well... after Xai-xai i could only hope it'd get better, because i regretted not having stayed there for a week.

but, how shall i put this... i'll explain it this way. I'm driving, tired, exhausted, because i haven't told you how hard it is to drive in Mozambique, not for the lions and elephants crossing my path (those i could probably handle) but because of the grand canyons in the middle of road that just happen to be in my way right after a slope or a turn... so we'd fall, feel our stomachs detatch from our bodies, think we were dead, realise we weren't and congratulate me for being such a great driver! i also had to deal with another type of creature, popping out of everywhere, CHILDREN... i think in the 3244km i drove with my "FÔBÁFÔ" i didn't drive for more than 5km without seeing people on the road side... walking, and walking, and walking... i wondered where they were going... but they walked for miles i believe, kms i mean. anyway... children are let out free. this doesn't mean i think children should be put on a leash, it means they should know the difference between laying down on a corn field enjoying the "dolce fare niente" and laying down in the middle of the asphalt, i mean the road! i had to use my horn to scare chickens, goats, turkeys (who by the way suffer from deafness i believe), cows, "pumbas" (watch the lion king), monkeys, and the scariest of all, human beings. "if i was your mom..." i'd yell... no use... it's like in Antwerp, trams rule the streets, but in Mozambique, children do!
...of course... when i'd get close to them angry because i thought i'd kill them, A.T. knew i was just making plans as to adopt them or not. i swear, if there were no laws, i'd have a football team here by now.

....oooohhhh sooo off the subject.
so, you accept this offer of a place to sleep for a few nights... hoping it's close to the water, at least. but because of the "highways" and the fact that "FÔBÁFÔs" could indeed be slower than you'd hope, they just drive through anything, making your promises of arriving anywhere before the sun goes down (17:30!!!! making the children on the road scarrier than ever) a complete failure. and there we were, in the middle of this sand dune road, 18:30, pitch dark, eyes and teeth the only thing you could identify in the dark, panic because there are no lights on the road and you know people are waiting for you. Sr. Manuel waited for us...
as soons as i turned off the engine i was off to the dinner table, and then bed. the bed part i leave out because i can't describe all the squishy creatures i found in that house... i hate animals smaller than cats!
even knowing of all the creepy things that were crawling around our mosquito-net-protected-bed the only thing that actually annoyed me throughout the night, was this thundering sound of waves crashing on the beach... i can't believe this but in that pitch dark night, i could only say "i hate being so close to the ocean"!!!

well... well... the night went and morning came (at 6:00a.m.) and fate has it that i don't fall asleep after my eyes open. let's take a walk outside and see what awaits us...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!! breath, breathe... 1,2,3,4,5, AAAAAAA. TTTTTTTT!!!!!!!! i know he hates it, but he had to look out the window... the ocean wasn't far away, it was below our feet!!!!!!!

kms of beach, empty...

the sun looked as if it was there to please ME,

the dogs were there to befriend A.T.,

the CAPULANA's market was put there for us,

the fish we ate for days were created for US...

and i could feel that those amazing sunsets were sent by you...

(i know you wanna know, the word "FÔBÁFÔ" is a new word in my vocabulary, it should mean QUATRO POR QUATRO, but if you translate it to english FOUR BY FOUR and slightly... actually no, completely add to it a portughese/mozambican accent, you get something like "FÔBÁFÔ"... remember the "FOGE DE LÁ"?, well, that's my life story i guess, people speak to me knowing i will eventually know what tey're saying... it takes effort though. )

xai-xai

2007-11-02T19:27:00.000Z

when i was a kid, my winter holidays were spent in Lisbon.
when i was a kid, my winters were cold.
when i was a kid my christmas day i wore a sweater... and tights, and boots, and a coat.
when i was a kid, my new year's eve, when i was allowed to stay awake, was freezing cold (well at the time i thought that was the coldest i'd live), but everything was in Lisbon.

my daddy, on the other hand, spent his winter holidays in Xai-Xai.
my daddy would drive north out of Lourenço Marques, enter the Province of Gaza, probably like us buy some cajunuts on the way by the road (or probably not, but by the way they're yummy), cross the Limpopo river bridge (you only pay it on the way south) and arrive to a little paradise on a hill where the horizon is very far away.
my daddy as a kid had his summer holidays in what would later be my winter.
my daddy as a kid spent his christmas days swimming in the Indian Ocean.
my daddy as a kid would transfer to Xai-Xai to the little house on the hill built by his daddy.
my daddy... (uffa, how frustrating...) was allowed to be awake on New Year's Eve, the Xai-Xai hotel looking over on the great big ocean, and kms of sand would probably help you make childish dreams and hopes for the new year come true...

jeaulous?

yes daddy, i am... i was and now i'm even more. no matter how abbandoned the hotel looked, and how many times you'll tell me, "it was different in those days" i'm still jeaulous. the house is still there, i saw it, i for 10 minutes stood in that garden and saw the Indian Ocean just like i believe you had back in the days... i loved it...

no house in the Algarve will ever have that effect. and no Christmas holiday in Portugal will ever be like those you lived in Xai-Xai.

by the way... maybe we could just buy the house from whoever has it now and just move there, all of us... we could live off of the fishes A.T. catches, and my children would have the same images you had.
i'll make the plans, you convince grandma!

umbelúzi, boane e namaacha

2007-10-30T11:32:00.000Z

do you remember when at school your teachers or your little elementary school friends would ask where were your dad and mom born? strangely enough i never said "they're from mozambique", my daddy has always been from UMBELÚZI.
wierd huh? well i never got positive reactions like "so is mine!" or "wow", i got mostly things like "huh?!", "where?" or just blank faces. while all my friends on holidays would go away "p'rá terra" i could only do that on one side of the family, but on my dad's side, things were mostly reduced to Lisbon, fine with me, but why couldn't i go to Umbelúzi?
"well bicuka, it's very far away, and our house is probably gone by now." i always thought it's be gone because they'd use it as a battle field!
my dad was born in Lourenço Marques, but on his 2nd day of life he moved straight to Umbelúzi, my grandfather was the director of the IIAM-estação agrária de umbeluzi for a long time, in two different times, the first of which my dad grew up in a colonial house, did his primary school in a colonial building, watched plants grow, gigantic trees become his hideout, a far away horizon... it would have been the best place for summer holidays.
the house was in every picture, every album. my grandmother has always had in her front hallway, as soon as you walk in her house, a big drawing of this house hanging on the wall. noone is indefferent to it, no one cannot past by it without looking twice, and i was always jealous that i had never seen it. my grandfather used to tell stories about it, of course to make us scared he told us about every bug, insect and disgusting squishy animal you could find in their garden... it'd scare me, but he would always say "if you had been there like your daddy and played with all these things you wouldn't be scared" and i'd cry because i didn't like being NOT from Umbelúzi.

the house just takes your breath away, it was there in front of me, big, huge even, restored, still standing with the beauty i always imagined, if not more, it's still part of the IIAM, noone lives there, just offices, the garden is so colorful, the trees are bigger than i thought possible, the imbundeiros are just too big to discribe... but what i couldn't stop thinking about, thinking that i would even end up crying with emotion, instead i couldn't stop smiling, i was standing on the veranda of the 1rst floor where my dad would ride his bike around the house. which kid wouldn't love that? a veranda that would turn into a highway for your bike? of course there seemed to be enough land to bike on, but especially when the river would flood out and the helicopter would pick up my daddy to go to the city, then the veranda seemed big enough. actually it's huge!
a bit later in his childhood after a year or so in Lisbon, where the kids at his school would make fun of him because he'd wear shorts and my grandmother wore pants, they came back to Umbelúzi but this time to another house, a very portuguese looking house from the 60s.
it was the cutest thing! so adorable i wanted to buy it... i never thought of buying a house, of course if i had the money i'd buy the big one, but i could make that one my library/coffe shop/baby school/movie theater/architecture studio project and this one my little hide away. this house felt mine. i looked into every window, every door, didn't find one piece of furniture, no tables, no beds, nothing... I HAD A CHANCE!
wrong again! this very smiling couple poped out of nowhere, and scared me sooo much.
at first i was a bit jealous. they couls live there. they said they had no money to buy anything so they slept on the floor, had a few clothes, no electricity, no warm water, but their smile was bigger and whiter than i'd presume people could have living on so little.

o Sr. Teixeira garanteed me that even without much, the house was still up and running. he has taken care of it and to him it looks beautiful. with a lot of love and care he reasured me his kids would run around like my daddy once did.
i didn't have the courage anymore to tell him i wanted to buy the house, i thanked him, asked for a photo to give to my grandmother and i left on my voyage knowing that that doll house will always be in good hands.
Boane, (which by the way A.T. has already chosen as the second name for his first boy child... sometimes i hope it's not with me :/) is a little village right next to Umbelúzi where my dad was baptized in the chapel you see in the picture, it's very very cute. but all it had was the chapel!

Namaacha, for those who are thinking of going to Mozambique is a waterfall location, that is if you go in the african summer, known as the wet season... because we didn't see any water falling from the hills, we only saw all the swazi children trying to get money from us by diving into, what didn't seem so clean water, and showing how uninhibited they are. we didn't give money but they loved how we kept taking pictures. i'll go back one day just for the waterfall and maybe then i'll dive myself!

...there are also photos of a huge dam we passed on our way back to Maputo, i can't remeber the name, but i'll remember how i had to duck beside a wall when the wind picked up and tried to take my skirt and eyeglasses out of my body...

to be continued

maputo... or still lourenço marques?

2007-10-24T16:04:00.000+01:00

01.10.2007 - 03.10.2007 and 18.10.2007-20.10.2007

I guess my expectations of the country of Mozambique were really based on a past, a past that wasn't mine, a past that belonged to those very close to me, a past I had wished I had belonged to... a past long gone.
Or is it?
It didn't dissapoint me. As the plane landed, it not only felt like I was landing in a different country, almost on a different space in time, but for me it was my first glimpse of this great continent, Africa. Everything changes scale. Why are rivers so wide over there? Why is it that every house has so much space around it, why is it that here children still play in the streets? Why is it that time seems to stop as you land?
The heat took me by surprise, I could breath but I started getting stuck to my own clothes... 10h in a plane from Lisbon didn't help. Heat, humidity and that so anxiously awaited for smell of dirt... red dirt.
That was it... I was definetly Africa.

And the best thing of all, we had family friends waiting for us, cousins, a surprise birthday dinner for A.T. (organized by me and friends in Maputo!) a huge plate of shrimps, hmmm my favorite and a HUMANGOUS chocolate cake for A.T. with "tanti auguri A" on it!!! There were even 28 candles on the right and 1 candle for Maddalena in Palestine for her 1rst birthday, to let her know her uncle and "aunt" were thinking of her!
Maputo... a big city with millions of people. It looks so busy, it feels so full of life, there isn't one single open space in this city, or better, empty spaces, because they'll ocupy every m² they can get their hands on. You may find strange that I would still allow myself to call this city Lourenço Marques, I don't want to start a political discussion, but for a lot of people who had to leave after the independece, who chose to leave, it's still Lourenço Marques and that's the name I grew up to love.
I personally think it's impossible to forget it was a colony until 30 years ago. Proudly, as an architect, and as a protuguese citizen I loved seeing that the best kept constructions are of portuguese architects, or ar least done in the colonial times.
(for those who are already getting nervous, this isn't political, and it doesn't mean I'm against Mozambique being independent)
There are constructions in Maputo that you cannot ignore, be it for their architectural detail, or the fact that nowhere else in the world, except maybe Brazil, things like these were built. In Portugal there was no freedom of speach let alone freedom of building things so modern, in Mozambique there was space, modern architecture had a white canvas, for good or for bad, the colonists built to last.
I can't hide how proud I was when people would tell me that it's impossible to get good architects in Mozambique, how they'd love to still have the same "masters" as in colonial times, schools are not as good, they lack in what you could call "school of thought", there is no search for esthetics, no search for a line of thought. Of course in the middle of the Sofala desert I won't expect buildings to be built by a famous architect with it's own recognizable design. There , architecture is built out of necessity, schools, medical center, AIDS info centers, churches are built with the same plan, same construction method, things need to be easy, fast and efective. But I had expected to see Maputo come out of this horrible 16 year long war with the urge of making thins better, with the will to fix what was destroyed so that it would rise from the war with glory. No.

A lot depends on the government, if not everything, and everyone knows in the rest of the world, despite all the campaigns to send money over there, that corruption is part of the deal. I won't name people or situations, but it is so obvious in certain things. It is so ridiculously in your face that at first you are astonished, but you become easily angry. The only way to be able to fix Maputo from it's degration would be if the government helped out those who want to but can't afford it, to be able to restore a building you need to be foreign and filthy rich, because not only will you pay for it but you'll probably end up paying someone to allow you to do it! Or maybe you're South African and then it's ok, if you're from South Africa you can do anything.
Along this trip our feeling towards Mozambique kept changing, kept evolving let's say, sometimes wonderful, sometimes dissapointing, fustrating, cheerful and even caring... but you can't get away from thinking that somethings are just ridiculous. Hygiene, education, manners, driving, garbage, and just some of the examples of things that to the naked eye of someone from Europe look shocking, because you'd think it would come naturally to not throw things on the ground, to be polite to others, to drive without wanting to kill the small children who cross the street, dirt and dirty water don't go with eating... this is what I felt for Maputo, somethings just didn't make sense (in the middle of Mozambique I don't expect the same behavior and sometimes it was even better than in the city!), but on the other hand...
I found my past.
Churches where people were married, baptized, where my parents met for the first time when they were in university, where they would have coca-cola with shrimps, or Manica beer and tremoços.
Of course and I had already told you this, this trip wasn't to make me analize life in other continents, it was basically to relive, or try to imagine step by step the lives of those who I love and who lived they happiest years, their childhood here in such a wonderful, peaceful place.
This trip made me excited, made me very happy as you will probably recognize in my smile, it also made me cry, some moments made me think there was where I belonged, some made me understand that... not anymore.

In the silence within the Church of Sto.António de Polana I thought of what this city meant to me, I presume it's hard to understand what I mean but I wish I had been born there, I'm very much an alfacinha, I am one with my heart, but I hate to think that the happiness of my family was cut short by people who never thought of their consequences except of their glory. I was the first to be born in a new place, so I always felt I had missed out on something.
Going to Mozambique allowed me to understand I am not from such a place, but this place is part of my home.

I hope you enjoy the next posts...

from this

2007-10-23T09:44:00.000+01:00

this...

to this...

it's fu***** cold and I am too tanned to cover myself up.
as you can see I didn't update you on anything from my trip, I will soon, now in europe it's easy to get access to a computer with internet... which in the middle of nowhere in Mozambique I had a hard time finding.
let me just get a grip on this cold, and pretend I will survive.

chegou... pelos vistos para ficar

2007-09-28T10:25:00.000+01:00

http://xplain.files.wordpress.com/2007/06/rain_1

o INVERNO, sim porque eu sei que isto não é o Outouno, é impossível!

não tive primavera, o verão foi curtissímo reduzido a 1 semana em Milão, e 2 em Portugal (o que quer dizer que nem praia fiz), não tive outouno porque em agosto aqui teve uma espécie de tudo-ao-mesmo-tempo-sem-inverno... e agora... agora... AGORA CHEGOU O INVERNO.

acendi o aquecimento ontem á noite, o do quarto e o da casa-de-banho para tomar banho. que dor.
é horrível... já sinto o peso do frio que estará nesta cidade quando eu voltar depois de 23dias nos trópicos...

"ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, (que eu espero seja o meu tio!) we are about to land in Brussels International Airport, the temperature down there is of -5°, i know, i know, i also want to go back to mozambique!"

sniff sniff... o A. T. não pode ouvir isto, mas este será o meu último inverno neste país... chega!

note on my moleskine #001

2007-09-26T12:20:00.000+01:00

never write a post with the word PUM in it.

people actually comment on it... and laugh...

eu tenho na mão...

2007-09-21T19:46:00.000+01:00

"a bagagem do viajante". Queres melhor na véspera daquela que será sem dúvida uma das viagens da tua vida? Que poderes são os teus que só me fazes destas coisas?

E na página 161 deste livro do Saramago, na quinta linha ele diz:"(...) subalterno, mão sinistra) ao terceiro classificado. En- (...) ". Percebeste? Não.

A quinta frase - completa, porque as primeiras 3 linhas dessa página terminam uma frase iniciada na página anterior - é: "(...) Dizem-me (dizem-mo os jornais, que é sempre onde estas coisas se sabem) que nestes jogos nem tudo é pureza, que anda por ali tramóia e falsificação, que o amadorismo dá vontade de rir, que a publicidade se insinua por todos os lados e para todos os proveitos. (...) "

Quiz o destino que no dia que me lanças este desafio o meu livro tivesse um título "que me leva até ti".

Nem sei bem o que te dizer, e até estou emocionada... Tenho pensado muito em ti e nas coisas que te queria dizer antes de ires, mas não as consigo pôr em frases daquele tipo que se deve usar nestas alturas. Só me ocorre falar-te na Matola. Tens de encontrar a Matola que eu um dia procurei no Atlas quando regressámos de Florença onde a vimos nas fotografias e retratos em casa da tua tia. Parecia um lugar que não existia, e uma história saída de um livro... E tens de ver o pôr do sol de que todos falam mas vê também o pôr da lua. E promete-me que vais encontrar tudo aquilo que vais à procura... Boa sorte!

Só mais isto. A frase que me desafiaste a transcrever faz parte de uma crónica que ele intitulou "só para gente de paz". É para ti a para o A. e o que eu quero é que a encontrem... e já agora que a tragas de volta. Vais voltar, não vais?

Amizade!

posted by DARJELING

desafio

2007-09-21T10:07:00.000+01:00

recebi um convite de copenhaga na dinamarca para um desafio

pegar no livro que está mais á mão, abrir na página 161, e transcrever para o blog a 5a frase inteira.
gostei... mas deparei-me com uma dúvida: 5a frase ou 5a linha? aqui vai a minha:

5a linha:
"Dizer tudo o que ele sentia é impossível: tão"

5a frase:
"- Por quanto há no céu, Joaninha, pela tua vida, pela de nossa avó, nem uma palavra ao frade da minha estadia aqui!..."

in "viagens da minha terra" de Almeida Garret
é desde o Colégio São José que andava a adiar a leitura deste livro... ainda tem o meu nome escrito com a letra do 5°ano C ... mas agora aqui tou eu a transcrever frases e tudo desta amorosa história. com os tipicos "tiques" de Almeida Garret, como por exemplo, o frade! tem sempre um frade!

Dargeling, e tu? o que tens á mão?

a razão pela qual desisti de yoga na 4ª aula...

2007-09-20T21:52:00.000+01:00

dei um PUM

ok... afinal de contas nem era assim um post tão bom...

5 years...

2007-09-16T10:34:00.000+01:00

FAR AWAY FROM HOOOOMMMMMEEEE!!!!!

pilates works

2007-09-14T16:53:00.000+01:00

a 15 dias de me meter noum avião durante 10 horas para ir pela primeira vez ao continente africano... caraças fica mesmo lá no .. de judas Moçambique! decidi inscrever-me num curso de PILATES.

há quem chame "yoga" outros "ginástica" outros ainda "slow aerobics"... ora, eu antes de começar fui ver umas sessões, e relaxei mais nesses escassos minutos que nos últimos 4 meses. desde que "encomendei" os bilhetes de avião para Moçambique que ando nisto, não relaxo, não me sento a descansar, não penso noutra coisa... a emoção é tal que a minha hora do almoço é passada a escrever no meu MOLESKINE o que não me posso esquecer, o que devo ver, quem tenho que conhecer, rever, que praias não posso perder, que comidas tenho que comer, que cautelas devo ter, que estradas devo tomar, que jeep alugar, que botas comprar, que protector levar (atenção que eu nunca ponho protector solar, fiquei admirada com a quantidade de escolha!), que medicamentos não equecer, ...

enfim... poderia continuar mas o objectivo era contar-te sobre as minha sessões de PILATES. ora são 60min de pura paz... e dor!
como é que é possível que a Anne, a minha "teacher" me consiga fazer sentir tão bem e tão mal ao mesmo tempo. os exercícios são simples, ou seja, são lentos, nada de exageros... mas para um "roll-up" devemos demorar pelo menos 20 segundos. ora um "roll-up" é o ir da posição deitada a sentada completamente enrolada em nós proprias. eu nunca fui muito elástica (só para coisas que eu cá sei!) ;) demoro 3horas porque não há maneira de conseguir subir sem pedir ajuda. e lá vem a Anne com uma voz de avózinha a contar uma história e sabe-se lá como devagarinho, devagarinho lá me levanto eu, sem problema nenhum... assim que ela sai do meu campo de visão para ir ajudar alguém que ainda está pregada ao chão as dores chegam! e repito isto em todas as posições do manual.

o bom de todo o sofrimento é o "after feeling" de total levitação quando ao acabar a aula eu me meto em cima da Lillo (bicla) e pedalo até casa, vou sempre a sorrir, e não é só porque acho que tenho que justificar o dinheiro que gastei, mas porque parece mesmo que os nossos problemas se evaporaram para sempre.

até começar a subir os 3 andares belgas que me levam até ao meu chuveiro... começa a asma, as dores nas pernas, no pescoço, nas costas, o calor, o suor, e de repente numa rajada só começo a sentir de novo a vozinha mázinha a dizer no fundo da dor de burro...
"não te esqueças de ligar para marcar o hotel antes de 2feira"
"tratar do primeiro jantar em Maputo com os amigos e primos dos pais para celebrar os anos do A.T."
"caraças esqueci-me de ligar para o médico especialista de Malária para perguntar sobre os medicamentos!"
"amanhã envio um mail á prima para saber onde há postos de gasolina nas estradas da nossa viagem"
"não te esqueças de comprar botas no sábado"
"não te esqueças de comprar protector para os mosquitos no sábado"
"escreve as moradas todas de quem queres enviar um postal"
"ai e não te esqueças de apontar os aniversários para lhes ligares de lá"

"ah e nem penses beber água da torneira!"

...eu espero que as 6 aulas de PILATES me resolvam estes pormenores todos, senão não há quem me faça entrar no avião!
(enquanto isto o A.T. diz-me: "olha, descobri que em Moçambique vais ter que conduzir do lado direito e as mudanças do lado esquerdo. lindo!"

ANNE!!!!!!!! SALVE-ME!!!!!!!!

4 anni di...

2007-09-03T09:39:00.000+01:00

NOI

i could live with these...

2007-08-24T14:26:00.000+01:00

better than those awful, ridiculous FROG shoes people are wearing...
if they'd only look at the right design for so much more feminine styles.

30.09.07 - 21.10.07

2007-08-13T15:35:00.000+01:00

finalmente...
finalmente vou poder preencher as histórias da minha família com imagens, sons, cheiros, sabores e sensações verdadeiras. passei a vida toda a querer nascer onde eles nasceram, onde eles viveram porque morria de inveja de dias passados na praia, dias passados em cuecas e descalços no mato, dias que as cheias no Umbeluzi levavam o meu pai de helicoptero á escola, dias nos mercados, dias no colégio interno da mamã, dias em cidades com nomes como Manica e Machipanda, dias nas linhas de comboio que o avô ajudou a orientar, dias na Matola na casa da tia Dana...
dias eternos, infinitos... dias de áfrica

outros dias talvez, mas para mim foram dias das histórias de infância, histórias que ouvia antes de adormecer "ó avó, eu quero histórias verdadeiras... de quando eras pequenina!"

agora vou lá eu, não com eles, infelizmente, mas com ELE, aquele que me vai dar a mão durante o voo de 11horas (embora ele vá a dormir), aquele que me vai abraçar se as lágrimas caírem de tanta emoção, aquele que me vai ajudar a montar o livro das histórias...

eu, vou a moçambique

interrompo este precioso silêncio...

2007-08-10T16:57:00.000+01:00

para te mostrar isto.o que é?
é o bolinho de anos MAI LINDO que alguma vez fiz!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
deixa-me usar os pontos de exclamação, porque isto É OBRA!

foi o bolo de anos que decidi fazer ontem para festejar os 24 aninhos da Giulia, italiana bailarina, pequenina e queridinha que merecia um bolo assim. claramente nenhum de nós, os outros 3, eu, A.T e Luca não desgostámos de nos deliciar com ele... mas o objectivo era mesmo fazê-la feliz!

antes deste bolo jantámos tomini e speck alla griglia con insalata di mele e bacon feito pelo o meu chef pessoal... ai, ai... come-se bem na minha casa!!!

quem quer vir cá?

se existe um paraíso... eu sei onde

2007-08-08T16:53:00.000+01:00

aqui... aldeia de São Gião, Oliveira do Hospital...
silêncio é palavra chave, tranquilidade de espírito talvez seja o comportamento obrigatório... a natureza está presente o dia todo, em todo o lado.

as histórias desta casa poderiam encher salas e salas de bibliotecas, as pessoas que por aqui passaram, sempre da mesma família poderiam falar durante horas, dias, quando se lembram do que aqui passaram... descobri documentos da casa de datas como 1764, foi o mais antigo que encontrei, consegues imaginar o que por aqui se passou.

lembras-te do trabalho de Construções II na universidade que fizémos sobre este recanto da minha vida? não chegaste a lá ir... eu contei-te tudo, mostrei-te tudo com a minha memória, com a minha paixão por este lugar. e tu conseguiste apaixonar-te também.

este pequeno paraíso, pelo menos meu, está no meio de algumas obrinhas para o por ainda mais lindo. está neste momento a sofrer um bocadinho com algumas marteladas, mas quem lá está a trabalhar está a fazê-lo com muito carinho. e assim o espero... não cresci aqui, mas aqui vim muitas vezes em pequenina, nesta casa está constantemente uma presença forte, a dos meus bisavós. foi com eles que esta casa se tornou o que é hoje, foi com eles que chegou a nós os 4... e nós sempre a quisémos, porque connosco ela ficará sempre assim, linda e nossa!

a Casa das Varandas Altas... foi cenário de tantos sonhos que tive: da chegada do meu principe num cavalo branco, da minha eleição a presidente da Républica, da minha festa bombástica dos 18 anos (que nunca tive!), do meu futuro casamento, da infância dos meus futuros 5 filhos, da minha velhice, e acho que até sonhei viver lá para sempre...
mas, não fosse Lisboa a menina dos meus olhos citadinos... acaba por deixar São Gião limitada, e com esta vida de emigra, a férias, sestas, idas ao café, tardes a devorar livros, comer coisas pecaminosas, e até "dolce fare niente"

não me parece nada mal... já viste o tamanho do jardim agora? quantas pessoas se conseguem ali meter? ...nós só precisamos de 100 para o casamento... + os 200 habitantes da aldeia... mais o padre... enfim, ainda sobra lugar!

vou-te contar as minhas férias...

2007-08-07T11:42:00.000+01:00

tudo começou com um erro: não levámos mapa connosco na viagem Antuérpia-Milão. "é sempre a descer, não é?"
parece que não... afinal dá mesmo jeito levar um mapa nem que seja porque em Antuérpia não existem tabuletas a indicar "900km para Milão"

mas há mesmo erros que vêm por bem. era o dia 07.07.07 e o Luca fazia anos, vai daí que quando nos perdemos na autoestrada que para nós ia em direcção á Suiça, ia na verdade em direcção a Paris... demos-nos de caras com o seguinte nome RONCHAMP... ora, éramos ou não 3 arquitectos? seria pecado não aproveitar esta nossa distracção!
sem presente de anos para o proprietário do veículo que nos levava a Milão, meu co-piloto, decidimos que não há melhor presente para o Luca, que irmos visitar uma das obras de arquitectura que sempre quisemos ver e nunca pensamos ver.

Chapelle Notre Dame du Haut de Ronchamp, Le Corbusier, 1950-54

faltam palavras para a descrever... arrepios durante os 40mins que lá estivemos, as fotografias não chegavam para conseguir guardar todos aqueles detalhes. tive que me deitar na relva um bocadinho, era demais para mim... o presente foi para todos, a surpresa para não esquecer e a paz para sempre.

desta vez, recuperados do choque arquitectónico, seguimos na direcção correcta, e com 1:30h de atraso em direcção á tão esperada cidade de Milão.
á nossa espera estava ela, a Maddalena, sobrinha n.3, 9 meses, 8 dentes e umas gargalhadas que derretem qualquer um!

entre amigos, "familia", shopping, jantares, almoços de piadine, entre outras coisas muito milanese... l'ho visto... IL DUOMO
4 anos... vai fazer 4 anos em setembro quando eu cheguei a Milão pela primeira vez com os meus pais e fomos logo vê-la, e ainda bem, no dia em que chegámos estavam a meter os andaimes para a restaurar... 4 anos durou o restauro da fachada principal... agora está lá, branquinha, enorme, linda... para daqui a outros 8/10 anos tapar-se de novo, para nova limpeza. trabalho contínuo para algo que vale verdadeiramente a pena.
8 dias em Milão... sentir-se em casa nunca teve tanto sentido... afinal sempre foram 3 anos, sempre foi onde eu me encontrei, onde eu explodi e onde me tornei no que sou hoje... para o bem ou para o mal.
"foi muito bom rever-te Milão... e foi óptimo perder-nos em Ronchamp."

quem não arrisca...

2007-08-05T13:25:00.000+01:00

Emigrante que se preze faz um pé - um pezinho no meu caso- de meia e reza para que este cresça.

Na esperança de o ver ainda multiplicar sondei o meu pai que me disse "quem n arrisca n petisca" e me aconselhou a aplicar as minhas poupanças nuns certos fundos de investimento... de alto risco. "Ganho sempre", assegurou.

Resultado: no espaço de 15 dias uma perda astronómica. Volto a sondá-lo em pânico e obtenho como resposta: "Não te preocupes que no verão fica sempre em baixa". No verão?!? Qual verão??? Ponto um, apesar de ser agosto chove a potes e parece que estou ainda em fevereiro. Ponto dois, a minha noção de investimento é bem mais romântica e menos stressante. Da póxima invisto assim numa pequena obra de arte ou num set vintage de sala de jantar que era o que eu queria fazer.

Disposta a por os meus planos em prática e até porque se é para desperdiçar o meu suor com base num qualquer ditado popular que fez que com tanta facilidade pressionasse agilmente o meu teclado dando ordem para que os números que apareciam no saldo disponível passassem a estar "aprisionados" no espaço virtual onde os tais fundos - tão fundos que nem os vejo - habitam... resolvi ripostar com o "mas quem tudo quer tudo perde" e desatei numa pesquisa desenfreada pelo google "mo-bi-li-a-riiiii-o...vintage...retro..." e quiz o acaso que desse de caras com este post que me fez rir como ja não acontecia há muito.

posted by DARJELING

voltar... ao futuro

2007-08-01T14:52:00.000+01:00

http://muitoblaser.blogspot.com/

voltar das férias tem claramente desvantagens... voltar ao trabalho, voltar a casa, aos hábitos que preenchem o teu dia-a-dia... a parte melhor realmente é ver os amigos que por um mês ficaram longe de nós, sem notícias, sem jantares, sem GIRLS'S NIGHT...
pois é... cheguei na 6feira, no domingo já tinha na agenda pequeno-almoço marcado com as meninas no bar com os empregados mais giros, o REVISTA... assim que cheguei vi-a lá ao fundo... havia qualquer coisa nela diferente... um sorriso enorme, os braços abertos para me receber depois de 30 dias sem o minimo contacto.
"tás tão bonita!" disse eu
"pois tou... TOU GRÁVIDA!!!!!"

sim... por vezes as vantagens do retorno valem muito mais a pena
em janeiro cá te espero menina bonita... sim, É MENINA!

domenica a casa... a luglio

2007-07-01T15:29:00.000+01:00

non é possibile che adesso che abbito qui ad Anversa mi dovró veramente abbituare a queste temperature semplicimente non umane!

piove... ci sono i tuoni... lampi... e sono solo le 14:00 nel pomeriggio... domani inizio le vacanze d'estate peró questa settimana, la prima di luglio saró a casa, qui... e se piove cosi tutti i giorni, riusciró a fare talmente tante pulizie che la casa sará nuova di nuovo... non voglio, mi rifiuto...

...meno male che ci sono loro... le mie piantine, le mie 2 fragoline, quasi rosse... e il mio nuovo "albero" preso al mercato... la nuova sedia é anche lei bellissima.

basta questo per dimenticare che questa settimana prima di andare a Milano... sará una delle piú lungheeeeeeeeeeeeeee...

ui...

2007-06-27T19:17:00.000+01:00

...i'm sure, the worst architecture i've ever seen... is definitely in Brussels.

e se eu fosse...

2007-06-25T19:56:00.000+01:00

...uma hora do dia:...9 pm

...um astro: ... uma supernova

...uma direcção: ... em frente

...um móvel: ... escrivaninha do meu avô

...um líquido: ... chá

...um pecado: ... preguiça

...uma pedra: ... preciosa

...uma árvore: ... oliveira

...uma fruta: ... cereja

...uma flor: ... magnólia

...um clima: ... previsível de preferência

...um instrumento musical: ... guitarra portuguesa

...um elemento: ... ar

...uma cor: ... branco

...um animal: ... gato

...um som: ... o "chiadinho" de um vinil empoeirado

...um estilo musical: ... jazz

...um sentimento: ... respeito

...um livro: ... seria da autoria de Kazuo Ishiguro, Hemingway, Paul Auster ou Ian McEwan

...uma comida: ... souflé -obrigada pela ajuda bicuka: "tem de ser um cozinhado temperamental. De bacalhau."

...um lugar: ... do cuco, no alentejo

...um gosto: ... doce

...um cheiro: ... jasmim

...uma palavra: ... "xiu"

...um verbo: ... ir

...uma peça de roupa: ... cachecol, lenço...

...uma parte do corpo: ... olhos

...um objecto: ... de papelaria ou de cozinha?

...uma expressão facial: ... embevecida

...uma personagem de desenho animado: ... um pequeno poney azul com um arco-íris "tatuado"

...um filme: ... stealing beauty

...uma forma: ... das geométricas um triângulo, mas preferia ser livre

...um número: ... 4

...uma estação: ... primavera

...uma frase: ... "que horas são?" estou sempre a utilizar, mas gostaria de ser "hasta la vista baby" ou assim

...este questionário tem truque: estive sempre a vacilar entre aquilo que sou , e o que gostaria que ser. Na primária era mais fácil: "Se eu fosse um foguetão eu antes de ir para a lua tinha de meter gasolina" (1988).

POSTED BY darjeling

cheek to cheek

2007-06-19T10:45:00.000+01:00

Melhor que um regresso, só um reencontro: o meu aqui para celebrar o nosso em Antuérpia, finaly... já ia utilizar um ponto de exclamação, coisa que jurei não voltar a fazer sem ser absolutamente oportuno depois de ter lido que era uma excessiva manifestação de excitação própria da adolescência. Quase que podia usar esta como justificação da minha inibição para a escrita ultimamente.
Mas não foi só isso apesar de me ter constrangido muito mais do que gostaria de admitir. De facto acho que abuso do ponto de exclamação... e das reticências também.
Um dia a minha mãe "decidiu" fazer marmelada, e posso evocar aqui esse momento para descrever aquilo que passei a sentir, quando comecei a não escrever no blog por negligência - falta de tempo, de assunto, sei lá. Depois veio a culpa. Depois a inibição. Finalmente, a maldita tese do ponto de exclamação no jornal.
Ora, a marmelada explodiu e borrifou a cozinha toda através do pipo da panela de pressão. Se calhar nem deveria ter sido feita numa panela de pressão mas a minha mãe não sabe essas coisas - e até há pouco nem sabia que existia "uma mulher maravilhosa chamada Martha Stewart que semeia, planta, colhe, cozinha e faz prateleiras", como te contei na semana passada.
Se calhar a minha mãe até fez tudo bem, mas quiz o acaso que a pouco usada panela não tenha aguentado a verdadeira pressão: os mais de 20 anos de expectativa por parte do meu pai que mais uma vez resolvera insistir através de uma das suas manobras de diversão para enviar mensagens subliminares sem ofender a minha mãe, e trazer uns marmelos para casa sabendo que ninguém os iria comer à dentada.
Contigo foi diferente: nunca te zangaste comigo. Esperaste paciente - com a tua sabedoria -, sem demonstrares sequer indignação, só saudades de me ter no blog - isto é, perto de ti.
Antes que o teu pipo rebentasse decidi eu convidar-te para um post "cheek to cheek" - primeiro porque não te conseguiria encarar se não tomasse esta decisão , e segundo porque precisei da tua ajuda para voltar. Como poderia continuar sem aparecer por mais tempo assim que percebi que decidiste evitar a tragédia não comprado os marmelos?
Obrigada - com direito a ponto de exclamação - Já me tinha esquecido como é bom estar aqui cheek to...
POSTED BY DARJELING...agora tu!...

O meu pipo não explodiu, até porque como sabes, leva muito tempo a explodir... só mesmo comparado não com a marmelada... mas talvez com uma geleia daquela de São Gião... mesmo marmelo, mesmo processo, mas não explode pois o objectivo é ficar sempre "dengosa"...
Esperei, esperei... e esperei ainda mais, e se não fossem as promessas de regresso, e de visita... eu já tinha ido aí puxar-te as orelhas, sem as puxar mas a chantagear-te de maneira mais subtil.
E foi só isso que eu fiz a partir do momento que te vi sentada á frente da lojinha dos diamantes dos egipcios ao lado da estação.
Desse momento até te teres ido embora, pareceu-me estar noutra dimensão... nunca tinhas dormido na minha casa, já tinhas reparado?

Rimo-nos muito
Discutimos imenso
E cuscámos até fartar!!!
Para não falar nas coisas que comemos, que comprámos e que vimos juntas nestes dias.

Sem dúvida hipnótico!
Podiamos estar em qualquer cidade e a coisa seria igual... porque no fundo só precisávamos de 4 dias assim, juntas. Claro que a minha casinha fez parte do pacote, e todo o conforto e calorzinho que ela te deu ;), mas acho que podiamos ter ido para Madagascar (esquece as praias paradisíacas!) e teriamos tido as mesmas conversas, as mesma frases acabadas pela outra, as mesmas gargalhadas... e claro está: A MESMA PALMINHA! Esta nunca ninguém, nem nenhum lugar nos irá tirar!

Por isso, isto para dizer, enjoy your Dublin, i'll enjoy my Antwerp... but we'll always find somewhere else to be... you and me... cheek to cheek!

(olha lá... deixa-me com as minha reticências e os pontos de exclamação!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) posted by a.k.a.bicuka

tou mal

2007-06-14T13:03:00.000+01:00

porque há 4 aninhos que não consigo ir a Lisboa no dia de St. António...