The last days have been a lot about sharing. Sharing life stories, sharing time together, sharing rooms (with new people as well), sharing meal times and sharing sharing sharing. The centre is empty of visitors until Friday and at times I feel it is difficult to breath. That it is wonderful to have a normal family as a next door neighbour, get a lift to town hours before anyone else is going to wake up and do my off-day-routines: avocado from the lovely, tiny fruit shop, fresh newspaper and a magazine from the news agents, something from the grocery store - the pretty one, not the super market. A walk to a new cafe, a scone and some coffee, astonishing views and no pressure to talk to anybody.
Granny is in hospital, she had fallen in the kitchen last week and hit her head on the tiles. Something is bleeding in her brain. Why am I here and not there?
It's a lot of partying here, a lot more alcohol that I'm used to consume and a lot more alcohol consumed at home compared to the amounts consumed in my previous homes. Lots of talk about things I don't like.
There are things in this culture that I don't like, things that I disagree with. Major things.
I've been blogging for years and do remember that there are times when you are more concious about your (or the blogs?) audience. Who are reading this? How does it affect my writing if there are fellow volunteers reading? Or family members? To be fair, most of the things I write are in a language very few people understand (globally), but on the other hand - when I think about the trouble I'm having speaking and producing English at the moment maybe it is good that there is a written record here and it covers at least some of the issues I haven't been able to express elsewhere.
Tomorrow is still my weekend, I'll take the morning bus to a bigger town, drink coffee and buy more wool. Which is another issue I get picked on. My knitting and the packages I get.
Granny is in hospital, she had fallen in the kitchen last week and hit her head on the tiles. Something is bleeding in her brain. Why am I here and not there?
It's a lot of partying here, a lot more alcohol that I'm used to consume and a lot more alcohol consumed at home compared to the amounts consumed in my previous homes. Lots of talk about things I don't like.
There are things in this culture that I don't like, things that I disagree with. Major things.
I've been blogging for years and do remember that there are times when you are more concious about your (or the blogs?) audience. Who are reading this? How does it affect my writing if there are fellow volunteers reading? Or family members? To be fair, most of the things I write are in a language very few people understand (globally), but on the other hand - when I think about the trouble I'm having speaking and producing English at the moment maybe it is good that there is a written record here and it covers at least some of the issues I haven't been able to express elsewhere.
Tomorrow is still my weekend, I'll take the morning bus to a bigger town, drink coffee and buy more wool. Which is another issue I get picked on. My knitting and the packages I get.
2 kommenttia:
Sinä oot niin rohkea ja upea nainen että sinuun väistämättä kiinnittää huomiota - ja joidenkin tapa osoittaa sitä huomiota on sitten olla negatiivisia. Kuinka onkin ikävä sun rohkeutta ja räväkkyyttä, ja kaikkea muuta myös.
Laita mulle vaikka naamakirjassa sun osoite vielä, voisin lähettää postia.
MP
Onneksi ihmiset täällä osaa olla myös positiivisia, kenenkään kanssa ei sukset ole ristissä, ajoittain vain kähistään :) Mutta kiitos rohkaisevista sanoista!
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