there is no time like

there is no time like
Originally uploaded by hettie gm

"I won't be OK and I won't pretend I am"

:s

A Bad Dream

"Mum, I have a lot of food in the fridge, I accidentally made too much and I just wanted to ask you what to do with it" (I know that I won't need it as I'm having dinner with a group of friends and one of them is actually there with me in the room, but my mum can't see him and I'm going with him at least the conversation and his hand on mine made it look very much like that).

She doesn't answer anything concrete but talks about something irrelevant. She doesn't really look up from what she's doing.

--

Who said good dreams are good, since you do wake up, sometimes at 4 in the morning and your first thought is "well done for creating such a silly dream, it felt real and now you're sad".

Realising that I don't seem to script conversations well on the whole disappoints too.

On the plus side English and Hungarian were woven together seamlessly.

Travelling on Christmas Day

A couple from Singapore (one of them works in Germany) and a Japanese civil engineer were at the airportlink bus stop. They had already been waiting for 20 minutes when I got there. Then came the German couple, who live in town and a Hungarian guy. We were all hoping to catch the flight to Frankfurt. It was the second and last scheduled flight of the day.

We soon realised that the usual every ten minute service was probably not running at all. It took the taxi 15 minutes to arrive and another 15 minutes to drive us to the airport where members of our little group vanished into the empty terminal.





The aircraft was half empty, the crew relaxed and friendly. The Hungarian guy (thg) and I got chatting very quickly and ended up spending all the time together all the way to Budapest. I normally sit around and look at the aeroplanes whilst waiting for the connecting flight but this time I went exploring with thg. We sat and talked for a bit in McDonalds (me, having food on the day of flying is virtually unheard of) then went to the train station, then looked at the massive departures board at the entrance of terminal 1 spotting spelling mistakes as the little panels were whirring around endlessly.



Finally we boarded the tiny Boeing and we were airborne and it was dark and bumpy and scary. I had read about the summer storms that had hit various parts of Hungary during the day. After about half an hour I calmed down though -- thanks to the beer, and moved to a window seat in front of the engine on the left to catch the sight of Budapest as we were approaching.

I've seen many landing videos and had made my own in the past, but this time I couldn't bring myself to get the camera out to capture the familiar shape from a distance, then the bridges (I waved at our building, as it is along the inbound flight path) then the silly Christmas decorated houses in the suburbs.

Then I was home, exhausted and landed in my bed with the knowledge that I'm not the only one who travels on Christmas Day.

My mind is miles away

Budapest by Andersen

What is it going to be like? Is it going to be cold, will I see the sun or will the sky be heavy, heavier than in Scotland? Is it possible? Will I get lost like last week in Edinburgh? Is Budapest mine? I wish it were mine and all that goes with it.

ceilidh dancing

The ceilidh is sold out on Saturday nights. More men wear kilts than women skirts. Finishes at midnight. You'd expect a certain type goes to a ceilidh but it's not true. At one time or another everyone turns up at one. Most dances are introduced and practiced before the music starts. Men walk up to women they don't know and ask them to dance. A few dances involve changing partners so you can meet new people. One of my friends said she got a crush on someone at a ceilidh. And just when it really would have mattered she couldn't respond because something came up. It was the last dance.

I went to the ceilidh last night because I knew it was a last. I didn't regret it but won't be longing for another chance. I enjoyed a couple of dances but the afterparty was much more fun.

Portico Quartet @Electric Circus

read the FT review of another recent concert (facebook link)

google dashboard

It's nice to have an overview of what I've been doing. As long as noone else can see it. :-)

nothing happens

on the way from Edinburgh to Budapest when one flies. The whole journey was uneventful like a train journey from Edinburgh to Aberdeen to Inverness. There was a rainstorm at Frankfurt shortly after my plane landed. I saw it coming during the descent in the shape of icing sugar topped clouds that were very white and looked very dense.

Then 4 hours of milling about in Frankfurt Airport which was almost completely empty. The few who were there seemed to be lost in their thoughts.





Or was that I?

Stanley Odd new single launch at the GRV

They could not stop smiling. I could not stop dancing.

Fireworks Concert 2009

I have lived in Edinburgh for 8 years but there are a few things I haven't seen or been to. Now there is one less. Well, I have watched the Fireworks Concert before from Calton Hill, from my window, from the courtyard and from the Mound. Princes Street Gardens and its surroundings are closed and you need a ticket to get in.



You also need to be early. We arrived around 8pm and found a nice spot where we could lay out our water resistant and somewhat insulating rug. We opened a bottle of chilled rose and nibbled on sandwiches and cookies like many people around us as the sky went from royal blue to black.

So this year I watched the Fireworks in the Gardens. The Scottish Chamber Orchestra (Edinburgh's own) was playing Handel in the Bandstand. I have never listened to his Fireworks music (or any other of his pieces in fairness) accompanied by fireworks. Luckily the music was loud enough throughout and the Chorus sang the Messiah triumphantly.



Edinburgh does fireworks at Hogmanay too, but the weather is unwelcoming most years. It's not only damp but also cold and there likely to be a strong easterly which spoils the summers and embitters the winters. Other years the wind is from the West-South West normally as a result of a massive depression which builds up over the Atlantic. It's not cold, but it brings rain and it's gale force. If I must choose between the two occasions I'd prefer the Concert over Hogmanay.

Most years I'm not in Edinburgh during August and early September. I love the fireworks display on the 20th of August in Budapest (of all?). I missed it this year. The setting is as majestic as Edinburgh's but the river Danube makes it just a little bit more special. People don't sit down for a picnic, though they should, really. Then again, there are no gentle slopes covered in soft lawn.

Food I like in Edinburgh - a short list

Most of these are available everywhere in the United Kingdom but not in Budapest.

First, I witnessed the freshly squeezed/pressed fruit juice revolution (yes, I've been here that long), from the spotting of the occasional Innocent "water" in Peckham's and other delis to today's explosion of fruit only drinks. I drink these diluted, half and half. My favourite is red grape juice followed by the 2:1 mix of pineapple and orange, which is a morning essential.

I grew to burgers, too in Edinburgh. Not the chip shop variety, but the well barbecued smoky succulent types. I have a favourite kebab shop on Forrest Road. Their burger I could eat every day. Scrap that. It did happen before that I ate there most of the week. They top it with plenty salad and some tomato sauce. I only order chips with it when I'm extremely hungry.

Lemon yoghurt. I would miss that too.

And that's about it. I've never lost my preference for Hungarian food and that's what I cook mixed with Italian. Occasionally Mexican. But I do not do Sunday roast, haggis (yeah, haggis, yes, once a year, you know when), gammon steak, poached salmon or Sheperd's Pie. Or steak and ale pie. I don't cook vegetables, I simmer them with some butter and a little water and add seasoning. Nevertheless, I owe a lot of great culinary experiences to Edinburgh. South Indian, Nepalese, Pakistani, French flavours (I love cassoulet) are easy to have access to. Unlike in Budapest.

Budapest London Edinburgh the journey 14 15 16 August Part 2

The night coach from London to Edinburgh only stops for a break once. Around 2.30 am we pulled into a motorway service station. The burger shop was open but I was not hungry so bought a packet of chewing gums instead. There were only sugar free minty flavours which made me a little sad.

The service stations in Germany and Austria have warm lights and piles of Milka and Ritter Sport chocolates in all flavours imaginable. And Nici toys and coffee mugs. The service station near Sheffield was lit by neon lights which hurt a little.

One of the ladies on the Budapest Edinburgh coach was a TEFL teacher (age late forties?) who did a masters at Warwick University last year and now she is back teaching Chinese students English for a month or so. She is afraid of flying. She sat next to a bubbly younger woman and seemed to have become friends. I don’t know if their bodies touched when they were asleep, in fact, I don’t know whether they could sleep much as they sat next to the back door, meaning that their leg room was limited. The TEFL teacher lady gave me a 100 FT coin before Hegyeshalom as I spent my last forints on taxi to the Nepliget coach station. She saw me turning back and walking up the steps and offered the coin. We talked occasionally throughout the journey but I can’t recall any details. At one point I was taken aback by her demonstration of ignorance on one topic or another and she was ignorant of her ignorance.

I mentioned the self made businessman who runs his own business in the North of England. He knew everything about the English (Scotland has somewhat different rules) benefit system and said the key was having lots of babies. Apparently, as a parent you get £30 a week per child and can look forward to the swift allocation of a house of appropriate size. He seemed completely unaware of the moral aspects of benefit tourism. I must admit I never really believed that such a thing existed, but he advised his audience with conviction so I might have to revise my position.

In Belgium all the motorways are lit. Before Eurolines changed the departure time (sometime after the 7/7 suicide attacks in London) it was a pain as it was hard to fall asleep as the light pattern relentlessly irritated my retina.

In the UK motorways are like runways, lots of shiny cat eyes stuck into the road both sides and middle. Red, yellow, sometimes green, sometimes blue. Sections of the motorways are lit as we approach a major junction.

Next time I will invest in one of these blackout eye masks. And a high tech neck pillow.

Budapest London Edinburgh the journey 14 15 16 August

The best part was the night coach from London to Edinburgh. I sat next to someone who didn’t talk much, covered his eyes and had a high tech neck pillow (while mine kept deflating somewhat). He borrowed my phone to check his emails cos he forgot to take down a phone number. I don’t remember saying good bye and have fun in Edinburgh to him although I should have. But Hungarians just don’t know how to be properly polite.

The Budapest London part was one experience though. There was a guy who was bragging about having his own business in the North of England and there were women with converging stories. All have divorced, one twice. These 3 women were between the ages of 55 and 76. They weren’t talking to me about this, but to each other. One has recently found true love. She said she had known that man but on a New Year’s Eve as she was getting up from the couch felt an extraordinary sense of peace. That was love. They’re getting married next month.

Then there was a woman who had a very famous first husband (I’m not naming names, but personally haven’t heard of him before) with who she still keeps in touch and who was ill, chronically but not fatally. Her second husband was travelling with her, but she said he was a bully and she was glad to have divorced him.

I can’t remember the life story of the third woman as she was the listener really, so never said much.

I sat next to a Pakistani lady (age 37) who was travelling with her second husband and her young son. She has an older son from her first marriage, he lives in Pakistan as she lost custody of him as a result of the divorce. She invited me for dinner, but I had to decline as we were late in London. I only had to wait a couple of hours (instead of 5) for the Edinburgh night coach and I never left Victoria Coach Station, I was glad I could sit down putting my feet up on my mighty samsonite.

Part 2 will follow.

note to self: how is it that I still can’t distinguish between Canadian and some soft American accents?