Monday, 31 May 2010

Travelling on budget

How to get from Duisburg to Utrecht without a train ticket? Pick an ICE to Amsterdam that suits you. If the train is full, go to the board bistro. They have comfortable seats and tables. Sit at a table and relax. In order to stay at your table you will have to buy something to eat or to drink. One tea (EUR 2,90) per person is enough. Drink your tea, and chat with your travel companion. If you haven't got any - read a newspaper or a book. Be genuinely consumed with whatever you're doing. When someone addresses to you with a question in German look up from what you were doing and see whether the person is wearing the DB uniform. Yes? Than probably it's the conductor. "Do you want to see my ticket?" You have to ask this question with a clear doubt in your intonation. "Have you been checked already?" - the conductor will translate his question for you. "Yes" - be sure of what you are saying. You may sound a little surprised, but don't exaggerate. The conductor will walk away and leave you in peace and you can go to Utrecht. Or Amsterdam if you wish.

Processing CDs from Kiev: Nicos - Secret Love

Saturday, 29 May 2010

Killer heels

Our shopping marathon is over. Today we went to a huge shopping centre on the other side of the city and spent eight hours checking out every single shop (skipping the ones we know from the Netherlands). I managed to spend much more money than I had. In exchange I’ve got some really nice little t-shirts and some really cool designer wear. Pictures? Well, maybe later. ;)

Our special mission was to buy shoes. Challenging! Seriously –
there’s no way I’m going to walk around in shoes with 12cm heels. Which seems to be the minimum height of the heels here. My feet hurt now because I’ve seen too many of those shoes today. And if the heels are lower, then the shoes are probably decorated with gold coloured metal findings and a lot of strass. I did manage to buy three pairs of shoes nevertheless. Nothing extraordinary this time, though.

Tomorrow is the first of the two Days of Kiev and we are going on a jewellery hunt at the artists market on Andriyivsky uzviz. That’s culture and doesn’t count as shopping!

Wednesday, 26 May 2010

Good old times and quirky flavors

It was nice to meet last night. I’m happy I’ve found them again. Or they found me, I don’t remember anymore. This time only ten of us gathered in front of our old school. All the usual suspects. There was time to catch up with everybody, to consume inhumanly large amounts of food and for some – drinks. Around eleven in the evening we have finished our dinner and were deciding what to do next. “Till what time are you open?” - we asked the waitress. “Till the last client, of course!” That’s the spirit!!!

My friend and I had another visit to the supermarket today. This time we had: cherry juice, cranberries covered in dark chocolate, pickled cucumbers, syrki (the soft sweet chocolate coverd chese), marinated mushrooms, and three small bags of potato crisps flavored as smoked cheese, chanterelles and mushrooms in sour cream. Ukrainians seem to be very creative when it comes to flavors of food products.

We’ve visited almost all compulsory touristic sights so tomorrow is the day for shopping. I hold my breath…

Monday, 24 May 2010

Day one

We started with two hours of pedicure and manicure in the morning followed by a long city walk. It’s amazing how I can find pleasure in seeing sights I’ve seen so many times before. The city is very familiar and yet so strange to me. I guess that’s the price for abandoning it. Today I suddenly realized that we have such a tough schedule that we might either miss some sights or some shopping venues. Tough choices.

We finished the day off by paying a visit to a supermarket. We ended up buying salted cucumbers, sushki, birch sap, pickled tomatoes, sunflower halva, local marshmallows (zefir), syrki (something like soft sweet cheese covered in chocolate), some tea and chewing gum with blueberries and pomegranate taste (in one).

It’s 22:25 here now and everyone is asleep except for me.


We had one hour at Dortmund railway station before the next bus to the airport would leave. We settled at the McDonalds – there was no other place to sit down anywhere near the station.
“Could I have a BigMac meal with salad and a Fanta, please?”
“That’s a lunch meal, we start serving them from 11:30.”
“Could I have a BigMac meal now?”
“Please come back in three minutes.”

Checking in at the airport was a pain in the ass because the woman at the check-in desk had made us repack our bags three times distributing the weight in such a way that there would be no more than 10kg weight in each bag. One bag had 10kg and 200gr and that had to be repacked again! We had about 1,5kg overweight in total and didn’t manage to hide it, so ended up paying thirty euro for an extra luggage place.


Sunday, 23 May 2010


Two weeks ago
Me: "You can take 10kg cabin luggage and we have one luggage suitcase of 20kg to share. Please take some warmer clothes too - it can be quite chilly in Kiev." 

One week later
She: "I have packed all my summer clothes . I can't wait!"
Me: "Did you take anything for colder weather?"
She: "No, should I?"

Last night
She: "I can't fit all my clothes in one suitcase!"
Me: "Come on, we are only going for one week. Besides, we have one more suitcase to share, remember?"

Later the same evening
Me: "This sweater is too warm. It's not going to be colder than 15 degrees."
She: "OK, then I'll leave it here. I'll leave these trousers too."

Half-an-hour later
She: "I think I'll take the trousers after all."

Our vacation has started. ;) 

Saturday, 22 May 2010


Last night I came home after dancing and settled at my desk determined to make a list for the music guy in Kiev. Last year he supplied me with loads of good music and this year we agreed I'd send him a list beforehand, so he can collect the CDs for me.

At 4:40 in the morning I sent him this: Katie Melua; Сурганова и оркестр; Алексей Архиповский; any salsa, merengue, bachata; Paris Combo; Feist; Tiger Lilies; Gotan Project - Tango 3.0; Club Des Belugas - ZooZizaro; Tanghetto; Federico Aubele; Bonobo; Trentemöller; Parov Stelar; Waldeck; Buscemi; SLow Train Soul; Lovage; Wasabi Lounge; Campari Lounge; Budda Bar; Cafe Paradiso. Plus Putumayo: Acoustic Africa, India, Rhythm and Blues, Latin Jazz, Blues Around the World, Puerto Rico, Celtic Tides, España, Acoustic France, Paris, Italia, Gypsy Groove, Turkish Groove, Rumba Flamenco, Greece: A Musical Odyssey, French Cafe, Italian Cafe, Music from the Wine Lands, Music from the Chocolate Lands, World Groove, A Jewish Odyssey, Music from the Coffee Lands, Latin Groove, Arabic Groove, Latin Party, Salsa!, Tango Around the World, Cafe Cubano, Salsa Around the World, Baila!, Afro-Latin Party, Congo to Cuba, Cuba, Mexico.

I wonder what music I'll bring back from Kiev.

Cheb Mami/ K-Mel - Parisien Du Nord [remix] (no I'm not fixed on Arabic music, I just happen to like this song)

Friday, 21 May 2010


So it's over. No the Jewish-Muslim mix was not a problem. Neither was the money. Once again I comfort myself with a thought that I learned a lot and this pain is definitely not for nothing. And it's true. I've learned a lot in this relationship. I was confronted with a side of myself that I didn't want to see before.

It's not that I thought I was free of prejudices. Prejudices are not necessarily evil. They allow us to sort out the information that we receive in a fast and efficient way. But what I discovered in myself were prejudices that I would certainly condemn in others. They appeared from the dark corners of my being and for some time took over my feelings preventing me from opening up. I was judging him by his occupation, his language skills and his manners. And I was wrong all the way. I had to deliver a fierce fight to get through to myself.

And just when I was cheering on my victory over the prejudices something much more dark and disgusting showed its head. Hypocrisy. It was nasty, dark and sticky. It felt so natural, at first I didn't even know it was there. I was trying to hide it under some plausible explanations and excuses. I didn't want to be too close to him where more people I know could see us. I was explaining that by the fact that I didn't want this to be a lasting relationship, so why inform the world it's there? I didn't want to introduce him to my friends because I wanted to keep my independence. When I finally saw it I was shocked. I was disgusted. He simply wasn't good enough for me! I was afraid what other people would think about me! And that's while he gave me so much support and confirmation, when he opened up to me, when he cared. And while I was gladly taking all that from him. I couldn't believe I could be so unfair to someone. I couldn't have deceived him more.

I did my best not to show this ugly monster inside myself and I was fighting all the time we where together. This morning I woke up into a new 'single' morning and realised that I feel grief but also feel relieved that I don't have to fight myself. It made me feel sick!

He is right putting an end to this. But not because it's better for me. It's better for him! He let me see what a loathsome creature I am. Why do I love him for that?

Zaman - Batalti Eli

Thursday, 20 May 2010

Good bye

I've just said "I love you" ang "Good night" to someone who left me. Single again... Hell, I miss him! And hell, it hurts!!! Help, anyone! Please... Get me out of this dark hole. I don't want to be here...

Tuesday, 18 May 2010


I was browsing through the morning paper when an ad drew my attention. “Te vaak met je ouders naar de huisarts geweest?” (“Have you been to the doctor with your parents too many times?”) It appeared to be a public campaign promoting Dutch language as a connecting factor for all people living in the Netherlands. My neighbour often uses her five- and eight-years-old daughters to translate things for her. She has two little Turkish-Dutch-Turkish interpreters at her disposal. The ad was targeting children whose parents don’t speak enough Dutch to function independently in all aspects of their everyday life.

Once again I thought of the difference between Netherlands and Ukraine. Ukraine still believes in evolution, survival of the fittest. No arrangements for wheelchairs on the streets and public buildings. No walking paths and ticking traffic lights for the blind. Deaf are aliens. So are foreigners who don’t speak Russian or Ukrainian. Public campaigns to encourage people to be nice to each other? You must be kidding! The state doesn’t have the money for that. All the money goes to organising of numerous elections. And in the meanwhile – billboards that are not occupied by somebody’s election campaign are most likely to carry alcohol or tobacco advertisements.

Sunday, 16 May 2010

Money lending

A friend of mine needed help with untangling some financial issues. I offered to read through some contracts and write several letters. I spent my day browsing through the websites of all kinds of money lending companies and reading contracts and terms and conditions.

I was:
- appalled by how shamelessly they try to make you believe that lending great sums of money will make your life easy;
- astounded by the high interest rates;
- shocked by how people can get themselves in such a deep money shit;
- astonished by how money lending companies are all interlinked with banks and other financial institutions and how untransparent these links are;
- flabbergasted by how easily people lend money for things like new furniture, fancy cars and vacations;
- overall surprised money lending business flourishes: if all people were like me, the whole money lending would collapse or, rather would have never existed in the first place.

Now I actually feel very happy because I don't have this kind of problems. I will sleep well tonight!

Tetragga Feya

Biking through the streets of The Hague at 3:30 in the morning proved to be a whole new experience. For the first time in my life I left home by bike so late (or early, depending on your definition). You might know, I am totally not afraid to be alone out on the streets at such an hour. Still I decided not to go through the park, but rather take a D-tour and bike around it. I was not the only one biking and there were quite some cars on the roads. No pedestrians, though. I successfully managed to ignore all traffic lights on my way. I got there in a little more than ten minutes - something I don't have to hope for in daylight.

I didn't expect the conversation to be so difficult. Although, I didn't expect anything at all. I didn't have a plan. I just needed to be there to save me (or maybe both of us) from tears. Tears will inevitably come and mark an end to an era of tranquillity. But not yet. I'm not ready!

I was feeling weary. I have danced till two, waited till three, talked and cried till half past five. After that we went to get cigarettes and bread at the nearest gas station. We were not the only customers. It was almost light outside when we finally went to bed. I have a lot of food for thought. I guess we both do.

India Martinez - Tetragga Feya

Thursday, 13 May 2010

Roads to my heart

Yesterday I had a dinner at a friend´s place. He cooked. Afterwards we went to a big salsa party. I came home around three in the morning and wrote this in my status on FaceBook: "Men who can cook well RULE!" Obviously, the dinner left a deep impression. Guys, if you haven't taken my breath away with your dancing skills, you can take another road to my heart. The one that runs through my stomach.

This morning another friend of mine sent a message in reaction to my profile status: "Men who can cook well AND know how to dance rule more!" He is absolutely right. A man who can cook AND dance well is... well, basically a god! In my head I quickly browsed through my phone list to see how many men can cook and dance. To my surprise I have discovered about a dozen men who fit these criteria. I am surrounded by gods. What a life!!!

Wednesday, 12 May 2010


I was wearing a natural open shoulders longsleeve with a dark greige (or rather aubergine grey) print and a light pinky lilac jacket over the longsleeve. I had my slim fit dark denim Diesel jeans on and a pair of dark cerise shoes. My necklace consisted
of little one-hole buttons in light pink, light turquoise and cerise with brown and sand injections. My task for the day was to 'translate' two colour schemes of about 1200 colours to our own (60 colours) in order to let the products of two other companies land in our new system. While I was doing this I kept on wondering whether nutria and taupe would suit me well, whether I know anyone who wears plomo and whether moss-pink is a wearable combination at all. I discovered that if they talk about egg they mean yellow. I had to smile when I saw blonde in the range of yellows: last weekend my boyfriend's son refused to accept the notion of blonde and told me I had yellow hair (which actually sounded more like a compliment to me, because someone had recognised my hair as blonde rather than red). I had difficulty deciding whether I had to leave lilac in the rose range or move it to purples. What colour is heather? And what about powder? Flash coral? Ocelot camel?!?! Fashion is a very strange business...

Tuesday, 11 May 2010


I wish it were already tomorrow evening because I can go dancing.
I wish it were already Wednesday because I'll have an interview for a job I fancy. And because I'll meet my boyfriend for a drink. And because I'll go to a salsa party with some friends.
I wish it were already Friday because I'll go dancing with my boyfriend and hopefully we'll be able to spend the night together. I miss him.
I wish it were already next week because I'll start buying presents and packing things.
I wish it were already 23 of May because then my friend and I are going to Kiev. I will see my parents and my friends. And I will share Kiev with my friend. I love showing people around Kiev.
I wish this post were posted at last because I am really sleepy.

Alexey Arkhipovsky - Lullaby

Monday, 10 May 2010


What makes a man who's been refused once try again? And he keeps on speaking Spanish to me.

Sunday, 9 May 2010


Last week the weather was fine, so we went to the park. Two adults, one child and one orange ball. We've spent no more than two hours playing games outside, but in my case it resulted in two days of excruciating muscle pain.

Yesterday it was raining so, obviously, we weren't going to play outside. I felt relieved. Not having sore muscles feels good and I already started getting used to this comfortable feeling. Video and computer games!

First I was allowed to watch while he was guiding SpongeBob, Sandy and Patrick through a number of obscure locations smashing all kinds of highly improbable items and collecting spatulas, socks and bikini bottoms (!!!) on the way. My head went spinning. "I feel dizzy." "Yeah, all adults do. I don't know why."

Then I was allowed to crush a monster house with a an excavating machine. "Use this to move back and forth and push this button to attack. If you don't know what to do, just read the instructions." After I died some seven times he took over and killed the monster house in less than a minute. My disappointment was overthrown by the relief I don't have to try anymore. I did have to watch him killing some more monsters for a while, though.

It was time to play together. Tennis. "Use this to move around, push this to hit the ball and this to reach out. We are on the same team and we have to win." I felt a slight pressure. After I missed the first fifteen balls he became impatient. "Dad, can you please explain her how to play?" "She will learn herself, she just needs some time." "Oh, thanks a lot! We have no time, we are losing!!!" By then the pressure was so high, I managed to hit the first ball. "OK, we have to win the next one. Do your best!" "Eh, ok." "Come on! Do your best!" "I am doing my best! This thing reacts a second after I push the button - it's too slow." "No, you are too slow!" I felt my shoulders strain. Looks like sore muscles after all.

Dinner time at last!!! "Why does she have a fork and I don't? Do you like artichokes? I don't. Take them away from me. And tomatoes too." During the dinner we were watching iCarly - an incomprehensible  American comedy series for kids - with his commentary (because apparently he'd seen it before). I started getting a headache while trying to comprehend the incomprehensible.

When he started racing combined with shooting and killing the fellow racers I couldn't see the screen anymore. I turned my head away to have a little talk with his father. That's when I discovered that racing, commenting the race, listening to adults talk and take an active part in their conversation are the things a boy can do all at the same time. My concentration dropped.

We stole some paintings of Raphael and Da Vinci by cracking the codes, played games with visual tricks, laughed at some scary videos and chatted with his uncle and nephew in France. When I went to bed he was still playing. When I woke up he was watching SpongeBob on TV.

Next time I'll take him to a museum. See who gets tired first!

Saturday, 8 May 2010


I'm just back from two-and-a-half non-stop dancing evening. Usually I cannot go straight to bed, even though I'm tired. I need to calm down first. So I decided to show you my new hairdo at last. By now I think my hair is OK.

Friday, 7 May 2010

Good news

Today I came home from work and discovered two letters on my doormat. One was from the tax authorities stating that they will send me some money which they apparently owe me from 2008. This very good news has brought me in a very good mood and I decided to blog about something nice tonight.

At first I wanted to blog about domestic violence because that's what the second letter (from the municipality) was about. But then I have discovered this article (a friend posted a link on FB) with some statistics on Russia and decided to share its contents. The article is very amusing (however populist and not always correct), but too long to reflect its contents in one blog post. I'll just share some points that amazed (and amused) me most of all.

The territory of Russia is 17,075,260 square km, but only 15% of that is suitable for comfortable living.
It takes 30 days to clear 40cm of snow in St.-Petersburg.
1.5% of all Russians own 50% of all national resources.
Minimum salary (defined by law) in Russia is approximately €96 a month. As opposed to 1,407.60 in The Netherlands.
According to the latest statistics total population of Russia amounts to 132 million people. 57% of them is either retired or is about to retire. I think Dutch are overreacting a little when they are worried about aging. We'll never catch up with Russia.
Anyway, about 100 million people in Russia are paid from the budget money one way or the other: retirement benefits, civil service of any kind, army, police, intelligence services, imprisoned persons, etc. This means that there are only 32 million people (including children, students and homeless without social security benefits) left to work and pay taxes.
32% of the total population believes in magic. 58% doesn't believe in any kind of magic whatsoever. 10% is indecisive. This division is roughly valid for the whole of Russia except for Moscow. 74% of Muscovites believe in only one sort of magic - money! Two thirds of Russian population hates Muscovites.
Only 31% of the population (over 12 million people) in Moscow are Russians. There are more Azeri in Moscow than in Baku.
There are 23 million Muslims in Russia. They attend more than 3000 mosques in Russia. For your reference - there are about 130 mosques in the Hague. There is one mosque on each end of my street.
Only 20% of the population has saving accounts in banks. 16% keeps their savings at home. The rest doesn't have any savings.
In 2004 every 15th house sold in London was bought by Russians.
There are 605 imprisoned persons per 1000 people of the population in Russia. Only USA can beat this - 710. Kazakhstan (598) and Belarus (505) are following.
Every minute 5 people die in Russia and only 3 babies are born.
A very interesting detail: there are 65,000 more married women than married man. To whom are these women married? Russia doesn't have equal sex marriages yet.
Russia is the world leader when it comes to smoking children and teenagers - 33% of all children are regular smokers.
Russia is the third (after Iraq and Somali) supplier of refugees and asylum seekers in the world.
69% of Russian population doesn't use internet at all!!!
It's not safe to fly in Russia. The chance of a plane crash is 13 times higher than on average in the rest of the world.
In 2008 more than 500,000 baseball bats were sold in Russia. Baseball balls and gloves are considerably less popular - only 3 balls and one glove sold in 2008. Guess what they do with bats. ;)

The conclusion of the article is: if you've packed your bags to move to Russia unpack them now and stay where you are. It's most probably better there. I love that country!

Here's my latest Russian discovery: Cheese People - OME

You can download their album for free here.

Thursday, 6 May 2010


He uses sweet heavy perfumes. I've never thought I'd love being with a man who smells so sweet. I always hope he leaves some of his scent in my bed so I can still fall asleep with him when he is not there. I love to run my fingers over the skin on his back. His skin is darker than mine, it's soft, smooth and very warm. His stomach is a six-pack, when he presses it against my body a warm wave comes over me. I love his strong arms. I love the way he puts his arms around me so tight, one would think I'm going to suffocate. But instead I lose my breath of pleasure. I love how he caresses my body with his big hands. He always pays more attention to anything that's 'wrong' (bruises, spots) asking whether it hurts and stroking the place with his hands as if trying to heal it. I love the way he examines my body with his dark eyes. My body seems to do some sort of magic on him. This keeps on fascinating me. It almost makes me cry every time he pauses to give me a kiss. He kisses my neck, my back or my legs - whatever part of my body is near at that moment. He holds my hands in such a way I can't move them, forcing me to lay still. He pulls my hair preventing my head from moving. He uses his full strength on me, and yet I cannot name many men who made love to me so tenderly...

Longniter feat. Kamala - Pictures Of You

Tuesday, 4 May 2010

Scary writing

Writing a blog post however short is a lot of work. It starts in the morning, as soon as I wake up. I browse through the events and conversations of the past few days. I look around for topics when I bike to the station. I look and listen to people at the station and in the train. I look for topics in the morning paper, at work and on the internet. But most of all, I look at myself. Everything that happens to me is a potential topic for a blog post.

Experience and feedback from my readers show that the latter source of inspiration provides for most exciting posts. People often tell me it's very brave to share such personal topics just like that on the internet where everyone can see them. How do I manage to get that personal? It's simple. Every time I share something very personal, I get a lot of response and positive feedback. I like it. I want more. So I look for more personal stuff to write. I might refrain from writing something personal only for two reasons: it's too explicit to be good or it can hurt someone.

Yesterday I made a big deal of going to the hairdresser and was happy I did, because that gave me something to write about. I even suspect myself of getting a new hairdo just for the sake of this blog. I look at my life as a pool of blog topics. Often this approach helps to get through difficult moments of my life.

But now I have a feeling it won't take long before I live my life for the sake of being able to write a good story. I seem to encourage the events to happen. Which wouldn't be a problem if it only were happy moments and funny adventures. But the truth is: the best stories are made of pain. Even the funny ones. The more it hurts, the better the story. The other day I was struck by a question that popped up in my head: what will I write about when I get a steady relationship?

So I basically walk around looking for pain to be able to write. Pain is a welcome guest in my house. And I suspect this is also the reason pain keeps coming. There is nothing I do to avoid it, to go out of its way, to make it lighter, more bearable. No. Instead I poke around in my feelings till I feel enough to start writing.

Here I am again. Hurting. It's too late to turn back. There's nothing I can do now to soothe the pain. I have to go through it. It would be a good time to start writing the pain down. Except, somehow I get cold feet. I'm simply afraid to write about this. I could make it worse, though, to get a better story...

Hot Chip - Hand Me Down Your Love (it's just a song I like, there's no hidden message in it)

Monday, 3 May 2010

Hair chaos

"Are you still red?" "Yes, but the colour is so uninspiring, I'm thinking of something more radical. Bright red for example." "Dye it blue or green." "Why don't you like red? It could look very natural." "I don't know, I would have to see it first." (That's where déjà vu kicks in: I weight sixty kg, that's too much. - I like your body this way. - Yeah, you would also like it if it were eighty. - I don't know, I would have to see it first.)

"Please, for heaven's sake, go to a hairdresser!" I can be very stubborn, but my attempts to dye my hair blond have failed several times. So I did as he suggested - went to the hairdresser. I always go to a Chinese hair salon in the Wagenstraat (where else?!). They proved to be the best. "I want my hair dark blonde." The woman has pointed at a fairly dark brown colour. "Like this?" According to Chinese I am blonde. I forgot that. "OK, I'm sorry, I want my hair light blonde." "Lighter than you are?!" Somehow I always manage to shock them. I want my long hair to be cut short, my temples shaved and now I want to be even blonder than I am!

After three people have examined my hair a long animated discussion in Chinese followed. Finally the woman had set to work, covering my hair with some substance. About forty minutes later I saw the new me in the mirror. Red! "It's not blonde"- I said. And that's when she explained to me that getting my hair as blonde I want would require me to come two more times in the course of several weeks, pay two more times and the whole procedure would completely ruin my hair.

Now I try to decide whether I want to dye my hair back to my natural colour tomorrow. This is the colour:

Sunday, 2 May 2010


So how does it work with motivation? What mechanism makes us want to do things? And what is it that makes us paralysed to such an extent that we can hardly get a thing done? There seems to be absolutely nothing I would want to do now. There is no joy in writing (you've noticed that already, I guess). There's little motivation to cook. There's no wish to work, search for a job or generate new ideas. I have to force myself to do anything. Doing my nails, cleaning the house, fixing a lamp, even going through the photos to share with friends is a great pain. Reading is no fun, nor is gardening. I even have a dancing dip! I'm not even talking about morning exercises or doing any household projects like painting the ugly leak on the kitchen ceiling.

I do try to get together with friends regularly, but gathering everyone feels so tiring that I can hardly enjoy the event itself. What's wrong with me?! I want to get out of this state of absolute apathy, but I just don´t know how... Any helpful hints?

Kaki King - Everything Has An End, Even Sadness

Saturday, 1 May 2010

De Nach

In my attempts to gather the crowd for the Koninginnenach I managed to get a friend to come over from Den Bosch. Den Bosch is not exactly around the corner and there are no night trains. He would be staying at my place for what's left of the night.

After we were done with the concerts:
Me: "I've just talked to my boyfriend. He is dancing at La Bodeguita. I have the wrong shoes for dancing, but let's go there anyway."
Friend:"Is your boyfriend big? I suddenly feel a slight discomfort."
Me: "Don't worry, he is very nice. He knows you'll be staying at my place."
Friend: "Wait, I have to check the night trains schedule."

At 5 a.m. after we made the beds and settled for the 'night':
Boyfriend: "How long do you know this guy?"
Me: "Not very long. We met in Brussels. But we chat often. Why?"
Boyfriend: "Well, I hope he is not a serial killer."

The morning after:
Boyfriend: "Did you sleep well?"
Friend: "Yes, but I have a headache. It's her fault, she gave me that Rigas Balzams."
Boyfriend: "Headache? This will give her something to blog about."
Friend: "Hey, I have a blog too."If she blogs about me, I'll blog back!"

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