This is not a diary any more

IQ Test

We started talking about IQ at work today. Colleague Friend asked me what was mine, and I was like, not much, 130 last time I checked, but it was ages ago. He went like, yyyyeeeeaaahhh, 130. Everyone turned at me and were smiling wide. As in, ok girl, you're confusing things. This is borderline genious! So no, not you. Not the one who has that little paper on the desk drawn by one kind ex colleague, with a scheme showing how to deduce VAT.  Read the rest of this entry

What Do I Want?

I was asked what I wanted for my birthday. It got me thinking what I want generally and most of all. 1. I want to be where my home is. I want to feel that, where I am, is the place. Not where somebody else is. Ok, so I guess I want my home to be where I am, although a crib in sunny Barcelona wouldn't hurt #soconsistent Read the rest of this entry


when her sleepy eyes travel down the morning landscape of his chest skin against the breeze of his exhale sunk in the scent of his peaceful embrace she remembers no other names and in the tenderest minutes of all farewells she hopes he is half as sad to leave as she is to keep letting him go

Don’t Answer Me

Barcelona. Day Four. Part Three

I have considered Sagrada Familia as one of the commercialised tourists spots. Having entered it, I realised it was a sight everyone should experience at least once in their lifetime. Not only as a masterpiece of design - great design gets me weak at the knees any day. But it's also about the vastness of one's imagination, and the bravery to employ a number of people, loads of materials and decades of time to make it reality. I've never had a fraction of that drive but always feel happy to witness in somebody else. We looked around and then sat in the area for praying.  Read the rest of this entry

Barcelona. Day Four. Part Two

We have 30 minutes till our visit to Sagrada Familia. I take Pia to Placa de Gaudi where she instantly starts playing with the sand. I sit on a bench and ask a guy there whether it's ok if I smoke. He puts away his book and says he is a smoker, too, thanks for asking. Where am I from? Ah, Lithuania. Welcome to Barcelona. He asks what traditional Lithuanian food is and perhaps I could write the name down so he could look up. He gives me a neat notebook and a pen. I write half of the cepelinai recipe, including the vegetarian version. Read the rest of this entry

Barcelona. Day Four. Part One

Aaah, so finally I come to witness the amiable nature of the nation. We need to print a bunch of tickets I've purchased to Sagrada Familia, Museu Picasso, l'Aquarium and Parc Guell. As we reach the spot where an internet cafe is supposed to be according to Here, it's nowhere to be found. I ask a random man on La Rambla if he knows the place. Read the rest of this entry

Barcelona. Day Three. Part Two

Pia wants to go to Pulperia to see Waiter again. I promise to take her after siesta. On our way, we pop round Santa Maria del Mar - an amazingly beautiful church. You couldn't even tell from the outside. The spiritual thickness of the air reminds me of Duomo a bit. Read the rest of this entry

Barcelona. Day Three. Part One.

We share an applein the sun on a bench at Parc del Laberint de l'Horta. The Labyrinth isn't yet open after the seasonal maintenance; however, the park is availablefor visitors. She hugs her Teddy Bear tight as we speak about something. Read the rest of this entry

Barcelona. Day Two. Part Two

It's very complicated to persuade her to eat something that's not bananas, Greek yogurt or toast. We have a nice walk in the evening but I know she's hungry and it bugs me that she never gets as hungry as to eat whatever the hell is on the menu. She likes mashed potatoes. I tell her Spaniards don't eat things like that but they eat a lot of amazing stuff and as we're here, we might as well explore the tastes. My rationalisations don't work. We pass by a tapas bar. Read the rest of this entry

Barcelona. Day Two. Part One

I wanted this holiday to be easy-going. No excessive planning in advance (though I did a bit of homework, inevitably), no strict abidance to the plan and no consequential stress. Happy to say it works. I just notice situations where I would begin to get nervous or hurry and I just don't. We went to the beach with Pia - it was quite a long walk for her via La Barcelonetta. Read the rest of this entry

Barcelona. Day One

I always knew I'd love Barcelona. I mean I'm a fan of cinema, and what the spectacularly-directedsights of the city in Vicky Christina Barcelona didn't do, Javier Bardem did. And the spicy yet paradoxicallyidealistic although too realménage à trois. And Christina'sphrase at the end, on the escalator:
I don't know what I want.
Anyway, I digress. Read the rest of this entry

One Way Or Another

It's no secret Stalker was one of the best series I've seen, and its soundtrack contains several remarkably done covers. This is one of them and, gotta admit, has a very sexy vibe. In a very wrong way.

Not Ready to Make Nice

Come Over