вторник, 9 июля 2013 г.
South France - The Beach
In London we used to religiously run with Vick every day at the dawn time. I generally think that is the best time for running partly because of the evening air and light breeze underneath the sweaty T-shirt, partly bacause I am a photography freak and the setting sun gives the most pleasant lighting to my eyes.
In France it became a little bit of a problem. Generous sun there starts shining at 7 am and doesn't stop until like 9 pm. This is when you already feel like a peach seed: drained and miserable.
So we ran in the morning. Twice.
The next day we've agreed that we need some motivation and decided to run down to the beach and stay there until lunch. So I strapped on my backpack looking like an absolute retard, which made Victoria laugh a lot! And we ran.
If you ever feel that your life is plane and boring try doing so me exercise under the sun in the middle of summer, preferably with a heavy-arse backpack. Than, straight after finishing the circuit jump into the cold water without taking off your clothes or even preparing your breath, just let the waves cover you completely. That's what we did and (without exageeration) this felt like the most revealing and satisfying moment of the holiday. I stayed swinning on the surface of the water for ages, Vick got scared of "not seing what's underneath her" so she waited for me on the beach.
If you ever feel that your life is plane and boring try doing so me exercise under the sun in the middle of summer, preferably with a heavy-arse backpack. Than, straight after finishing the circuit jump into the cold water without taking off your clothes or even preparing your breath, just let the waves cover you completely. That's what we did and (without exageeration) this felt like the most revealing and satisfying moment of the holiday. I stayed swinning on the surface of the water for ages, Vick got scared of "not seing what's underneath her" so she waited for me on the beach.
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| We took a disposable camera with us because it's light and because we didn't care |
We had breakfast in one of the beach caffes surronded by palm trees and sea songs. It was a (very surprisingly as I was wishind for the sun to burn itself for a couple of days before) windy morning and...ok so long story short: we felt great. Now pictures.
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| Vicky in the grape plantations. Chillin' |
среда, 3 июля 2013 г.
South France
Two weeks in June I've spent in a little town called Grimaud sutiated 20 mins away from one of the the most luxurious sea-side resourts in the whole world Saint-Tropez.
Before the trip I was running around and sharing with everyone how lucky I was to visit this town fo free.I used the fact in every single conversation. It sounded really good:
- What are you doing in summer?
- Visiting gran'ma in a village of Yorkshire, may be going out couple of times, nothing much, you?
- Oh neither, just, you know, staying at Sait-Tropez for a couple of weeks...
However it turened out that I much preferred 'staying local' than going to the actual destination of the visit as I was overwhelmed by the amount of posh, flashy creatures that live there. (Or just go there every day from their twoandahaldhouraway houses. Notincludingtraffic.)
Don't want to go on about this for too long but I have to mention that locals sunbathe with full make up on and name their yachts 'One More Toy'.
So instead of sinking in the show-off town we were exploring narrow streets of places around: Grimaud, Port-Grimaud and villages. It felt much better and much much more natural. All these typical french with croocked noses, sunkissed skin and uncontrollable, loud voices.
Before the trip I was running around and sharing with everyone how lucky I was to visit this town fo free.I used the fact in every single conversation. It sounded really good:
- What are you doing in summer?
- Visiting gran'ma in a village of Yorkshire, may be going out couple of times, nothing much, you?
- Oh neither, just, you know, staying at Sait-Tropez for a couple of weeks...
However it turened out that I much preferred 'staying local' than going to the actual destination of the visit as I was overwhelmed by the amount of posh, flashy creatures that live there. (Or just go there every day from their twoandahaldhouraway houses. Notincludingtraffic.)
Don't want to go on about this for too long but I have to mention that locals sunbathe with full make up on and name their yachts 'One More Toy'.
So instead of sinking in the show-off town we were exploring narrow streets of places around: Grimaud, Port-Grimaud and villages. It felt much better and much much more natural. All these typical french with croocked noses, sunkissed skin and uncontrollable, loud voices.
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| Victoria hoping for an owner of the shop to kindly present her 'like a little neakless or something' |
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| The highest point of the region where crows of tourist take photographs of the panorama. Me feeling included |
вторник, 2 июля 2013 г.
Being home
A week ago mum bought cereal or whatever from the grosery store. It turned out to be too plane for my bro's gourmanic taste sensors so mum's decided to scatter it about the forest nearby.
- Noone is going to eat it, - said dad.
- Huh, all those animal fight for it, - self-conciosly replied mum.
We pass by this forest every day to go to the beach. Cereal is still there.
Being home
Resulting from being absolutely jat lagged I went to bed at 3 am the first night. I then woke up at 7 next morning.
-You should go to bed earlier today! - said shoked mum.
I really didn't mind that suggestion so at 11 pm I was already imagining myself in Ibiza, cuddling with the pillow. As a matter of 'The Law of The Fair Living' it really took me a while to start sensing the cloudness in my brain. However in the next minute the door to my room opened and I saw a female siluet and a lot of fucking bright light.
-Is you window opened? - asked mum.
-Yes, - I replied.
-Ok, -said mum and shut the door.
Coming home
On the 30th June I had a flight from London to Zagren. I had no idea how unlucky I was as the next day Croatia was entering Euoropean Union.
After getting my luggage I came out of the airport radiating happiness as I didn't see my family for few months. My dad came all sweaty and tired, grabbed my case and said:
- I ran 2 km
I've decided to not ask too many questions, my dad was always into fitness. So we stood in the queueueueue for the bus to (?) take us to the parking area. It turned out that Croatians decided to celebrate on a high wave so they have blocked the roads and all around the airport. As we were driving along thehighway we were enjoying the view of chinese buisnessmen streaming to catch their planes with their LV cases covered with dust and smart shoes scratched all over.
Exhausted we climed into a car. I swear there are too many moments in life when you start to worship the weirdest things. Like air-con.
So the roads in the capital were all blocked as well so we ended up going in circles until some random ass man explained to us the most obvious way to get to Rijeka. Through the highway to Slowenia. Obviously.
To dilute the upcoming tension my dad asked:
-Do you want coffe?
We've stopped at a road fast food caffe. I had a capuccino, dad had a burger with espresso.
In two hours I was finally on my favourite chair with a huge mug of tea. This is normally the moment when you not only become thamkful for water and trees but start thinking that Earth might not be as hopeless and may be even suitable for living.
четверг, 13 июня 2013 г.
Place where i'll never come back
So we went to Birmingham...
I thought it would be fine to spend a week in a second biggest city of England, but after three (THREE) days we were throwing ourselves from one end of the bed to another, melting from boredom in a tiny hotel room. Rain didn't help either. I thimk I have never spent that much time scrolling up the instagram strip. My phone now takes two hours to run out of battery.
Anyway, it all started becoming a bit better when the sun decided to finally appear. We used to spend the whole day near the fountain in the Millenium point watching kids acting like gods, hopelessly attempting to control water, sketching and dreaming abot The Future. We used to come back with the dawn, have a "picnic" with the best japanese beer, plums and salted phistachio nuts and watch movies,
Places to visit:
-Art Gallery
-National Sea Life Centre
-No point of visiting any museums or jewellery quarter unless you are a total geek
Places ta walk:
-Victoria square
-Brindley place
-Channals (probably the best place for a run as well, however slippery, thin pavement under the bridges can be quite dangerous)
-Millenium point (go when its dark to look at the fountains changing coloures, that was our target, which we didn't complete)
Conclusion: weirdest people in UK, might cause he feeling of lonelyness and isolation. Will not reccomend spending more that 3 days there. Thre is THE MAXIMUM, trust me! Go visit Bristol or Brighton instead. Or London. Or Paris. Or Bruges.
I thought it would be fine to spend a week in a second biggest city of England, but after three (THREE) days we were throwing ourselves from one end of the bed to another, melting from boredom in a tiny hotel room. Rain didn't help either. I thimk I have never spent that much time scrolling up the instagram strip. My phone now takes two hours to run out of battery.
Anyway, it all started becoming a bit better when the sun decided to finally appear. We used to spend the whole day near the fountain in the Millenium point watching kids acting like gods, hopelessly attempting to control water, sketching and dreaming abot The Future. We used to come back with the dawn, have a "picnic" with the best japanese beer, plums and salted phistachio nuts and watch movies,
Places to visit:
-Art Gallery
-National Sea Life Centre
-No point of visiting any museums or jewellery quarter unless you are a total geek
Places ta walk:
-Victoria square
-Brindley place
-Channals (probably the best place for a run as well, however slippery, thin pavement under the bridges can be quite dangerous)
-Millenium point (go when its dark to look at the fountains changing coloures, that was our target, which we didn't complete)
Conclusion: weirdest people in UK, might cause he feeling of lonelyness and isolation. Will not reccomend spending more that 3 days there. Thre is THE MAXIMUM, trust me! Go visit Bristol or Brighton instead. Or London. Or Paris. Or Bruges.
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