Peaceful Days

I realized I wrote the previous entry in a state of what you might call holiday blues. Now, four days away from our return, I feel I can do our vacantion more justice.

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I wake up at about 8, my mouth a bit dry from too much wine yesterday, my head heavy with sleep. I have trouble falling asleep when it’s this hot. I move around from the couch to the bed and then back, chasing the evening breeze.

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I open the doors to the balcony and let the morning light in, then follow it for the rest of the morning, first as a perpendicular line on the neighbouring block, then like a reflector on their balcony door, as if waiting for whoever lives there to step into the sunshine and grab their 5 minutes of fame.

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I make some coffee, it’s too hot to drink it warm and so I add three ice cubes and a dash of milk. I listen to the city sounds, the occasional car or motorcycle ventures into our little alley and I welcome the feeling of everyday peace it brings me.

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I open my book, it’s supposed to be glorious, but for now I fail to see it, so I put it away and start reading about a trip to Mauritania in winter, walking through the dessert and sleeping under the stars. Maybe we could do that for Christmas?

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I open the cupboard and take out a couple of Oreillettes, sweet cakes thin as a sheet of paper, sprinkled with sugar and tasting like orange blossom. They’re so good, I need to learn how to make them, I don’t think I can live without them from now on.

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Today we’re going to F’s aunt for lunch, so I should chill that rosé and brush up my French. It’s coming together, all the words I forgot or never learned in the first place suddenly come to the surface.

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She lives in the countryside, in a quaint stone house by an olive grove, with a husband and a lovely dog who’s afraid of her own shadow.

We’re looking for a property, for now we’re still dreaming, but I could really see myself living here during the summer and I know that if it was my place I wouldn’t have time to get bored.

It’s ten already and I’m still lounging in my beach towel, to hot to put on clothes and too alluring to go back to sleep.

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Drop me a line. I’ve missed you!

 

 

Mediterranean Life

Ever since I set my foot in Rhodes, in 2006, I instantly fell in love with the Mediterranean way of life. Although you may think a southern French town like Montpellier has little in common with a sleepy Greek island, I beg to differ. It’s the way of enjoying life, in small portions, be it on the beach, at the local coffee shop or taverna, in one’s own garden or in the streets. I simply love Southern Europe and think I was born to live in one of its countries. How I ended up in Norway is a mystery to me and how I never seem to be able to do anything about it makes me really sad. But what can I do? Move to Greece and turn into a street vendor? No, thanks. I’d rather have a real job and live for the holidays, as sad as that might sound.

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Summer holiday

The days go by slowly, filled with small incidents and petty errands. In the evening, our heads are full of plans and the day after holds the promise of never-ending adventures, but the morning sees them all crumbling down, like a house of cards, due to the heat. I’m so lazy I could beat a cat in a idleness contest. I’m so lazy I could probably purr, I just haven’t tried it yet.

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Montpellier 2017

You-huu from my holiday paradise! It’s my third time in Montpellier and I absolutely love it! You should definitely book your flights if you haven’t been here already- you have the sea a 15 minutes tram ride away, the old town with its charming piazzas and wine bars, lots of cool shops, a wine festival in July and a couple of dazzling art museums, too. On top of all that, you have the French cuisine, lovely Southern people and a pretty international vibe to it all. 😉

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Almost July

Hey, folks, what have you been doing lately? I was in Bergen last week and although the weather was crappy and the trial drove me nuts- both the defendant, the lack of professional curtesy from the judge and the acoustics- it was good to see friends and catch up a bit.

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Now I’m back home, counting my blessings, doing a bit of work, walking Sammy in the woods every day and eating strawberries for lunch. 😉  I have a tough time in store, with moving out of my apartment on the 1st of August and needing to sell/give away/throw away lots of stuff and then find a storage for the remainder of my things. I can’t even begin to think about it, it makes me sick to my stomach.

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I’m starting to get restless about my job again, I’m working with so many twats (lawyers, prosecutors, judges and defendants) that I sometimes lose faith that I’ll ever be able to get the respect I need to feel professionally fulfilled. But then I usually work 20h/week, instead of 40-50, as many of my friends do and at least I have no boss, neither any reports to fill inn, so I shouldn’t complain. Still, it gets to me every time. Few people care about quality, everybody wants you to jump out of bed at any time of the day when they need you and as soon as you don’t, they trade you for a hungrier colleague. And I can’t live like that.

But first things first, we’re going to France on the 9th and I can’t wait. I just need some sun, a beach, French food and Mediterranean vibes. Walking hand in hand with my love on a cobblestone street, making plans about our new home, sipping coffee on a terrace, reading a good novel in the shade, need I say more?

I’ll be sure to take my camera with me!

xxx, Alina

Summer of Desire

I wanted to go to NY so bad this summer, but it’s still not happening. I’m seriously bounded by my expenses until the end of August, when the apartment will be officially out of my hands, which is why I don’t really dare to start dreaming about the (big) summer holiday. But we are going to France and I can’t wait. We’re going to Paris for a couple of days, then Montpellier, where F has family and fond childhood memories and the town will be our base to visit neighbouring places like Collioure. Maybe we’ll go to Nice from there, maybe to Barcelona, maybe settle on a couple of day trips to Marseille and Nimes.

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