TRAVEL DIARY

A weblog regularly updated by Jodi Rose.

Tuesday, February 7, 2006

6:39 PM
Posted by jodi rose

So, this morning I wondered at the life-cylce of the tiny ducklings wafting along the river on beds of snow. What are they doing being born in mid-winter? I was, to a full moon, on the other side of the world, but then I'm not a duck. Isn't spring the traditional time for hatching?

Again this question 'how are you guarding the bridge' from the high school students yesterday, and my answer to them: I walk every day to the bridge and check it's still there - provoked laughter from them, but made me realise that it is the process of paying attention to something, not taking it for granted, that helps to maintain and secure a continued existence. The price of peace, after all, is eternal vigilance.

More thoughts on Andy Warhol, as I realsed on crossing the bridge with my lonely stamp - that I actually am from nowhere. I appeared in London, a new person, and have now crossed into bratislava, out of sturovo, into esztergom and back to sturovo. That's all. Nothing else exists anymore. It's not often you get the chance to be brand new.

So, what shall I do with this reinvention? I'd like wealth, influence and someone to share these adventures with, especially dinner. That's the most lonely time, on a snowy tuesday evening in slovakia, preparing a delicious meal for.. yourself. Again. People here eat lunch, that's the big deal but dinner is a light salad or soup - I haven't quite adapted that far. Had Andrea over this morning, and tested the poached pears on her - from Food Year, Fiona at Bronte Cafe's recipe, which made me incredibly nostalgic. She said they are 'perfect', and I can cook at her new home-grown food venture when they set it up. Excellent.

Strange nocturnal hallucinations - when I sleep on two of the three beds here, I wake two or three times a night, convinced that micropscopic bugs are eating my flesh and I'm going to wake up dead.
It's really very unpleasant, and puts a dent in my rest for the evening.
Maybe it's the ghosts of all those spiders I vacuumed out of the mattreses - hundreds of them, gnawing at my skin from underneath.

BIzarre afflictions of the artistically inclined. Really must go cook some nutritious food - couscous, borlotti beans, mushrooms, tuna, spring oion and whatever else I find. Bought heaps of fruit and veg at the Billa finally, and found waffles which I had as a treat for breakfast.
Enough, you say, we really don't care - ah, but you're still reading, aren't you?! Goodnight. xx