Odesa: The nameless emotion

First EU airport of my latest holiday touring. Generic café. Long layover on my way to Mostar, the pretty bridge. 

Last year I wrote about my impressions in the Korea that smiles you first and the enviably organised Japan. The many tastes of Kimchy and the anxious stroll from lessons not quite learned after Hiroshima. 

And connecting to the theme of lessons not quite learned, the urge to write starts with that emotion I cannot name but I am carrying with me as a refuge while I transit crowded airports again and passers-by speak languages I understand. For now, I cherish "the" emotion and I feel like I could have been in another life while I realise that I don't have enough with the one life I've been given to live all the lives I want to live. 

The short, high season holidays of the teacher have taken me this time to central Asia. After that I have lingered in Eastern Europe, as a transition to ease the pain of slowly saying goodbye to long days and time to let life sink in. I chose Moldavia as a strategic resting spot to see where to head next depending on how life would unfold. And life asked me to go to Odesa, because I have always loved the name and because I wanted to see her in her full beauty in case there is more fighting to do. And I promise to join the countrywide rave party if this absurd war ends soon. Word. 

Before heading there I contacted hosts online and I was positively surprised on how fast they responded. A girl caught my attention because she liked to paint words on walls, dance in abandoned places and she had a cat named Thomas. And she answered me and I knew I had to meet her. Off to Odesa it is! 

The journey: 

Instead of the touristic bus I chose to buy a ticket for one of the smaller vans. They were arriving earlier and I wanted to make the most of my weekend on the Ukranian coast. I made the journey with a few Ukranians, squished in the back by 3 very overweight people who reeked of cigarettes. You couldn't hardly see me and it was so bouncy I thought I was going to hit my head to the roof. Even they helped me stay on the seat, because the seat was also unscrewed and I was bouncing around like of those dashboard dolls. 

The border crossing: 

It went fast. The official took my passport, looked at it, looked at me and shrugged. Indeed. No words needed. 

The arrival: 

Upon arrival my mission was to get to the beach. I was meeting my host near the monument to the unknown sailor. 

Behind it was the sea and a bunch of bombed/abandoned maritime factories. One of them was a squatted house that accommodates people who need to use the space as an atelier. The beautiful part is that they come together in the summer months and do residency in the squat. The place is no luxury complex, but it has some charm and a life of its own. My host explained to me how the noise of the port and the cargo train soothed her. After spending the night I understood. 

The complex

The space

My host:

I will call her according to her insta account and invite anyone to see her art: Temple of Pain. A young tatoo artist/painter and lately jewel maker. She quotes herself as: "just so depressed" and with no sight into the future, something that stroke a string in me. It didn't surprise me, it didn't make me paternalistic sad, but this new no future has stayed ingrained in my brain. 

We started the day with some meat free Brosh soup and a walk around the city with a stopover in a private art gallery. 

The front yard of the gallery 

Despite the language barrier we were able to talk about life in general, a lot about the absurdity of this war, the war you see and the one that crawls slowly under the skin and gives you new habits you do unconsciously.

We also agreed in how hard it is to be a man in times of war, how war has dominated history and how trauma gets passed by because mental health doesn't seem to be as important as the physical one. 

We had time to talk of all things we agreed in: compassion, human greed and stupidity, the world we see change so fast, community (whanau) and cats! Ukranian cats are the most friendly I have seen. Street cats come to you if you call them and greet you so politely!, they come for a cuddle and then they get on with their lives in their cosy apartments on street level. 

The community: 

My host wanted to make sure that I was comfortable in the place because it is different to my cuqui-Dutchie-cutie life. Yes, it might look abandoned and not too preserved, but it feels peaceful and safe. Different is good, but maybe not better if you have a definition of better.

It is the people who make the place (and the weather, and the food). And I could feel that human warmth, the love and respect they had for each other. As someone who could have been their mum, and as a teacher who sometimes loses faith in humanity I was very proud to see young people living up to the values we should be living for.

The thing I liked, despite the absurdity of the current situation and the generation at play: there is no drug consumption, not in the way I am used to seeing in young people or alternative lifestyles. If that remains so, they can groew stronger in an ongoing present together. 

Dinner:

It is refreshing to be in an Eastern European country and know that there are a bunch of people who also  don't see meat as an edible. It makes life much more normal, it gives life much more sense. As a guest I took care of the groceries and Temple of Pain came up with the idea of fresh veggie, spicy rice and falafel wraps. Everybody gathered by the fire for dinner and young people kept coming in and out of the terrace. After dinner a happy tummy silence reigned and music took the space as the sun went down. We played some charades, frisbee and I was ready to go to bed by midnight.

The night: 

The room I stayed in faces the port. If you think further it can feel daunting. Not long ago the Russians were bombing that same area to disable activities. And you cannot not think about it. But the noise of the port activities is really soothing. It gives a sense of normalcy. The sirens of the cargo trucks, the trains and the whistles took over and became my lullaby. I slept nearly 12 hours on and off, and could have slept longer to that white noise. 

The bedroom with views to the port

The purpose:

My time to leave was nearing and I had asked my host to sell me one of the jewels she makes. I have a pact with my sister regarding presents and it reads: we don't look for presents for each other. If a present finds me, I buy it. And it found me. And it answered Temple of Pain's question to: Why are you coming to the Ukraine? My sister's birthday is nearing and a present was looking for me. And it has a story and it also has an emotion I can't name, but one I hope she will also feel. 

the purpose

I will miss so much hearing  languages I don't understand.

Adopt don't pop

 Happy pandiversary!  

The one that in which no matter the efforts we don't seem to be able to kill the invisible beast. 

The one in which we all have an opinion but nobody has a clue. The one that, yet again, has shown what humans are made of.

I've entered this year without Sílvia, I can't believe she is gone forever. Like in other occasions, she has inspired me to write again. When she knew she was going to die she made clear she wanted to have it over with quickly and painlessly. She was surprisingly ready.

In our sittings in the sun, close to her last breaths, she muttered:

- you live, you die and what have you done? Have a daughter, to leave her alone in the world. See? Another reason not to be a mother. This time she didn't burst out laughing and lit a cigarette instead.

She knew I am antinatalist, she was a regretful mum. I do consider giving birth a selfish act, as many others, but also an unethical one. I often hear women say: "I feel like it" or "we are looking for a baby", with no remorse, because it is socially accepted. But I don't understand why.

Yet humans are only entitled to be human to animals. 

We fix them to avoid overpopulation and disease in females that have given birth multiple times.

We have evolved to see the commercialisation of animals as unethical. "Adopt, don't shop" 

Shopping for animals is specicist, it supports an industry of unnecessary lucrative suffering when, despite the efforts to control their population there are enough puppies and kittens being born.

I am surprised that no more people apply that to our species. We still associate the idea of giving birth with joy, instead of suffering. Somebody once told me that birth is more traumatic than death, but we forget. We are born to die (So Lana del Rey, this), someone else decides on your life and some people celebrate it. And so, a new human is created where there is no need for it, while there are millions of them without a family or in dire need. 

We consider this more when it comes to pets, and we take more responsibility, it seems.

I have always wondered, as a woman: why is it I can spread my legs and bring a being to the world if I want to, with no regulation, but it is so arduous, hard and expensive to adopt?. I was ready to adopt at age 28. On a genetical point of view I was aware that with the choices I had I couldn't really give birth to a person to contribute to society in the way I saw appropriate. I did have a job, my own house and I was in a solid relationship. There was a sense of security, but I didn't see a positive contribution in reproducing. 

I did have the capacity to love and nurture and give the opportunity to another human with no opportunities. I didn't need to create a child as an accessory to my life. I thought it was my responsibility to be part of the change I envisioned to turn my contribution into a fairer and more diverse distribution in the world. 

The adoption associacions basically said that as a single, fertile woman I could create my own. I don't find ethical to put an extra burden on Earth and my rationale seems bigger than my reproductive desires. To my knowledge I don't think I even qualify as a foster mum, because my apartment has only got a room. 

Jonathan Franzen said in his novel Freedom, that we should be more ashamed of giving birth. I think we should be carbon taxed after the 2nd child and given the opportunity of a tax rebate in the case of adoption (fostering already comes with rebates, tricky subject). 

We are suffering our first pandemic in the 21st century because of our irresponsible handling with animal meat. Before that we have had a few animal-related epidemics. Yet, we still consume meat into our doom. That meat, by the way, was once a sentient being. I am not ging to get into detail on how that milk you make your kid drink for breakfast is the result of insemination, forced birth and baby murder. We have had enough on subject: "cognitive dissonance"

But the elefant in the room is that we are too many, too greedy and often too willing to fill a void by creating more humans, that just contribute to this vicious circle to throw us deeper in the capitalistic and judeochristian construct.  

People are popping pandemials. But we still sterilise our pets to spare them suffering.

MESSY _ MESS...NO

There has been a long, silent break since the adventure began. Until I reached this point of shudding away the lethargy and rearranged the procrastinated items of a to-do list of all those things the Covid situation has pushed up to the priority list. 

RANDOM PROCRASTINATED ITEM ON THE LIST #1

• Post before and after pictures of the months you've been working on your house (you ace!)

I find them. Some on one phone (FP2), some on the new one (FP3). 
But I don't put them all together in one file. I forgot again to ask Rob for his footage, so then I can complete the process. It's too late today. And, after all, I can't come out of the blue, drop him a text and ask for them. We all have other prioritites. I tried to record him a message referring to a once-lived conversatio and some thoughts I wanted to share with him, and then I listened to it and I realise I get lost in story telling mode and forget to ask him for the videos he made. Some of us also have more time. I don't have to claim it with stories, maybe they are not interesting, maybe I am interrupting. Damn, now I am thinking for others and being irrational at the same time. Let's move to the next item, then

RANDOM PROCRASTINATED ITEM OF THE LIST #2

• Review the insurance 

Then I need to review documents. And I remember I have to write per request, for an exciting job opportunity. I should be writing. And I freeze 81/2 Fellini style because I have to adjust to the format and because they'd love to see pictures in the article. Images, my kriptonite.
 I tell myself if I talk to my insecurity, it won't help, I have all the time in the world, I am a passionate writer, I am not new to it. I give myself strength and then I wish it was like as easy as going on a stage, grab the mike and sing. 

And in the mess of papers and writings I find the ongoing book I once started, it is called "progressive pink", or "progressive grey" or both or "greetings from Memory Lane" or "Down Down Under", but today I am going to call it after "Family Man's" dog, Brian. Because Brian the book has been sitting in my computer folders for a while waiting for a reorganising of chapters, a thread and a purpose. Brian stayed in the 'Books' folder, because all I needed to get it out of my chest has already been written. 

SUDDEN RANDOM ADDENDUM TO LIST OF TO-DO ITEMS CRAWLING UP THE PRIORITY LIST

• You won't find a thing if you have so many bags full of papers. Recycle

A bunch of folded papers inside an esky/chilly/cooler bag. Like a script. It's  Brian in hard copy but I don't know, yet. I start reading it with interest: "quite an interesting piece" I hear my mind saying to myself.
 And then I read on and the style is awfully familiar, descriptions like: that smell of Mango, the recurring theme of Pelargon, the somehow grainy softness while sliding my hand... and voilà, I know who wrote it and I know who inspired it. 

I go back to the place, to that moment in time, unable to remember any image of that scene but vividly remembering the rigid touch of the fabric with a neon printout in some acrylic paint, it smelled a bit like rubber. The smell of the human wearing it, bare faced, soft chest, rough legs, the taste of the mango juice, a breath of Toohey's and one nervous cigarrete. My lovely Sydney in the background, smelling like seasalt and frangipani, greeting me with its OZ(oh)ne sun. Steep road and a high building overlooking Darling Harbour. The moon that rises from the water. My Locus Amoenus.

And I move in time and understand. I understand the writer's block, the fear at once, because the situation re-enacts itself and you expect the outcome to follow the usual pattern. It is ok if you don't succeed, but it is hard to reassure yourself when it happens. 

 And then I wish again everything was as easy as going on a stage, grab the mike and sing. 
And then I realise I still haven't written the lyrics to the song. 

To be heard, to be read.
To be seen.

Approaching

With somehow French melancholy we departed chez Vasil and started packing after some strong melitta coffee, a German flashback. I could take some of the leftovers in my mug because Rob doesn't drink any and Yann was anyway still sleepy and had plans to go back to bed. 

Good vibes, we had had two days of absolute switching off in a charming, quiet place and in beautiful company.

To me it felt like a cultural transition to Southern European lifestyle, minus the rural ambiance. I am talking about the eating habits where meals are a big deal and quality prevails and a warmer personality in general. After all, we all kiss in France and in Catalonia when we see for the very first time. Temperament starts showing, but something happened after crossing the Pyrenees, where people become generally loud, gesticulate a lot and touch a bit more often. Being hipersensitive to smell and sound I dislike the loud Southern European decibels, however, although I don't participate as much as a regular one, I do very appreciate the proxemics. 
Next Mitfahrer- co-voiturante: Sofie, picked up in Lyon, as much as I wanted to avoid the city, grrr. A North Catalan raised in Perpignan. You could tell: we talked for hours about food and cortados (machiatto coffee).

The trip went by really quickly. Bonzai was well adapted to the van and he also stayed a while in the back, to have some leg space. I had built a higher floor for him, a plattform with his toilet, his sleeping basket and a travelling bag.  I did have to keep him locked in the travelling bag, because otherwise he'd stay between the things underneath and I was scared that if I had to hit the brakes the bike or boxes there would shift and it could have hurt him. 

He is so awesome that in the one toilet break, I let him out at his own leasure in the back of the van to snoop around and he went to the toilet at the same time as I. Can't be more of a proud crazy cat lady mummy. 

In Perpignan we dropped Sofie off and picked Eric up. 
He had been travelling solo in a camper "into the wild" and his camper broke down. As he had booked a room in a hostel in Barcelona right down my street, I drove him right to his door. In the short trip Perpignan-Barcelona, Rob and I adopted him because we found his accent, a rusty English with French words in a German background mixed with some Spanish incursions too adorable. I invited him to come live with us and help on my home project. He agreed. and that's how we added to the itinerant family an old souled teenager with whom I believe I have more in common than with some people double his age. 

That for the journey. Our days pre-renovation works were a slow progression to cold with mornings of yoga and meditation. I could sign up to that life. In fact, it's my place, so I can... and I will 
met veel plezier and groot gemak

Franchute stereotyped

Second leg. Bruxelles-Cuisery.

Bonzai was well rested, the one who slept best in Brussels and very relaxed on the road. We dropped Bego at the airport and picked Ibrahim up, our next trip companion for the following seven hours.
Ibrahim earned brownie points by helping me attach a side mirror. We brought Ibrahim to Dijon and made our way to Cuisery. Looking forward to seeing Yann again.

Arrival at Cuisery by sunset. Received by Yann, with whom I shared house and life episodes many (so many!) years ago in Germany. I am glad I can still visit him, grateful we get to see each other sporadically.

Kiki, a friend of Yann had made us a soup we ate with baguette, cheese avec cordon bleau for the meat eaters.

When the sun came up we were greeted by a beautiful early spring day. The evening before we had decided to stay one more day to get plenty of rest.
Plan of the day: some stretchings in the studio next door, go take the donkeys and the dogs for a walk and to continue the French stereotype programme by rocking to Frank (his name should have been René) to play some petanque before the Barcelona-Madrid match.

Petanque - jeu de boules

Dogs and donkeys for a walk

Bonzai in the meantime wasn't impressed with the "campagne" environment. While the sound of the river outside served us as the perfect white noise to sleep like babies, it seemed too foreign for him. Add dogs, donkeys, big chickens, a lot of people coming in and out and the shouting during the Barça-Madrid game and there's no kitty to be seen.
We drank wine, smoked gauloises tasted the most amazing cheeses and went early to bed after a 0-0 to wake up and be on our 3rd leg on our way to Barcelona.

It was great catching up with Yann, it is beautiful in Cuisery... Bald mal wieder!

Cat good, alles good!

Happy 2020!
 We have already crossed the threshold of the longest day of the year and light will come into us from now on. I have entered MY new year already and all the good change is underway, slowly rebuilding good habits adding new ones and working on modifying those that don't contribute. 
Before works in the house start, I don't want to leave any part out of the journey. The road trip was the very beginning of this new stage. 

Amsterdam-Brussels expedition

On our van trip from Amsterdam to Barcelona my main concern has been the cat to the point that I started going on stress mode shortly before departure. And he positively surprised me. I am so proud of him...

First leg:
Amsterdam-Brussels. 
Short trip and overnight stay at Antonio's, who lives in his lovely "cuchitril" right behind the Grand Place. Try finding a parking spot there. But I had worried enough. Rob used his gratefulness and positive energy to manifest a spot. 
So, luckily there was street works going on at the corner of Antonio's and we could park amply there. One fewer worry. Here we went on to unpack the many cat things (toilet, food set, travel bag) and climb the many stairs with furry in the carrier.

Bonzai was relaxed and supportive all through the trip. I think I was more stressed than him. Once at Antonio's he explored the space, played and climbed on the wooden beams and spent a while giving some attention to each of us,  he wasn't even taken aback from our coughing Bego.

Cat Paradise Attic, lots of climbing and scratching spots. They were very enjoyed by Bonzi.

Selvie takes a selfie of cat and legal pet 

Morning awakening candid picture. Coffee galore for the road

Next leg: Brussels - Cuisery

Welcome to chapter 5 (or end of chapter 4)

Every year before Christmas a deep downer takes over me coming from the pressure of "having to" so much. 

Once liberated of "having to give" some pre-Xmas presents have already arrived.

My sister always says: "volta, volta pel món que acabaràs al Born". A very Catalan saying that reminds me of the message in Siddharta. Go around the world to find all you need where it all started. 

I BOUGHT A HOUSE 

This is a major stepping stone since I would have never imagined me owning a house in Barcelona, my number #2 city, no less. And in my favourite area of the city. Quiet, surrounded by nature, a small community and such an interesting story and background of neighbour activism. So grateful to become part!

My work in progress, meet the sunroof :-)

And grateful of the gifts that are coming with it. Number one and most important one... (drum roll)...
Jay B, yes, the one and only, has surfaced and promised he'll rock by and give me a hand. He's been hiding for the last five years, so I am sure we have a lot of catching up to do. 
I am stoked. He is some sort of a wise man and life protector to me. Or to each other, I am sure I did save his life in a way when I saw his light when we were kids. He changed the course later in my life when I found out I had survived an accident, details: https://selveta.blogspot.com/2017/11/all-souls.html. 
And on this important stepping stone, I can do with his support. Exciting, no less!

The best things in life aren't things. 

Present number two: the universe has gifted me a companion for this journey, in the physical and spiritual sense of the word. Some months ago our paths crossed in a short retreat in Amsterdam (Amsterdammers, if you are in need of some connection and peace of mind,  I recommend you reach out to Erik, here is a link:
https://onehumanretreats.com/meet-the-founder/), Robbie, expressed his love for my city of birth. 
So I reached out to him and invited him to help build my little dream. He said a big "fuck yeah" and we are going to take this road trip together from the km0. Inspiring brave man, who is not going to conform to what they expect from him, finding his own truth.
Because we've already stripped down to vulnerability, we surely have a bit to learn from each other. Personally, I can't wait to learn what his enthusiasm and energy will bring. If you want to follow, he will probably offer more images to this journey than verbal me.
 Insta: @spiritual_robbie_nld

Since this means so much to me, I have decided to keep a record of this journey in my blog. 

Coming on: girlfriend landing, serious wellness session followed by the inevitable annoying packing up... 
I am so ready.