I have been working on a new painting. It is a portrait of a small girl. I promised myself to finish before the weekend but it is not going to happen. I need more white paint! I get especially nervous when I have to draw or paint children, They are so challenging in every aspect of this statement. They need a special kindness and delicate touch. Also, they need unmistakable hew.  The colour must be pale but still convey reality! It is really challenging for me but I have to finish fast! It consumes me. I can't do anything else. And when I am not painting I sit on the sofa and stare at the unfinished work. I study it to find any discrepancies or irregularities. I look for any possible changes and corrections.

Colouring Pages, 2016

Once, when I was on maternity leave a friend of mine organised an auction and a sale to donate earnings to an orphanage or some other cause for children. He came to me and asked me to draw or paint a baby. I accepted the challenge but I failed terribly. I was not prepared for the theme. I had no skill for painting babies!

A Sketch for V's Painting, 2017 

Later that year I spoke to another artist who saw my drawing and gave me a lot of useful tips on how to draw and paint children. I remember every word to this day. I hope I am using the info correctly and effectively. Soon for you to judge!

Mother's Door

Human mortality scares and worries me. It should be natural and unavoidable. But it is so hard to accept and it is frightening. Letting go of people is just not my thing. I refuse to do it! My heart feels too much, my heart is to weak, my heart feels to strong! How can I change? This year I have let go already of too many. Today I had a small reminder and a scare but nothing else. It made me think about that poem of ks. Twardowski again. We should take every moment to make others feel special and loved. Because we might not get another moment to do so. Today was it just a scare but it shook my entire world upside down for a moment!

Alek, Age 9

Today, I give you my son's painting. He painted it last year in his private art class. His artist shines the most when he is pushes and motivated. He is a one smart cookie when it comes to human feelings. He senses me out right away! Even though I try to stay strong and not to show my insecurities and fears. He knows too well. I see how he steps in to help, explain, smooth things out. It is absolutely remarkable how this child knows what I feel. I have always known there is a bond between a mother and a child. But he made me aware of how irreversible, irreplaceable it is. There is no other door that soothes more than your mother's door. Just by knocking on it you already feel better. That is the only door in the world that you know you can knock on at any time of day or night. And it will be opened for you with a smile.

I hope to be as good mother to him as my mom has been to me. I have some biiiiiig shoes to fill!

Wigilia 2015

Urayama, Chichibu-shi

This glass of wine is to my mom's health. I love you mamusia! It is to health and well-being of all mother's!

Bali Is Paradise on Earth

There is a place on this planet where everything is better and you wear flip flops all year round! It is an island of artists and art. Flowers are growing everywhere and drop down to your feet to beautify your hair, your body and the ground you walk on. I am not exaggerating when I say that Bali is paradise. Weather you like to swim, be lazy on the beach, eat, do sports, dance, paint or just be. This is the place for you. Everyone should visit Bali at least once in a lifetime.

Rainy Day in Ubud

We spent two nights in Kuta, Three nights in Ubud and the rest of our two weeks was in Sanur. From there we visited Denpasar, celebrated New Years and saw the majestic Mt. Agung. Although not many people speak English, they are nice, helpful and attentive, especially to a little, talkative boy like my son! He was spoiled with attention and kindness. 

In Ubud, we felt arts everywhere in the air. In the buildings, walls, statues, food. There was beauty and tradition. Traditional music, religion and dance. I admit we cold see a lot of cheesy tourist cafes, shops as well. But over all, I felt that Ubud is a cultural capital of Bali. Cremation preparations on the street, music of the traditional instruments, flower and offerings on the ground, bright green moss on statues, sculptures and walls permeated the air. Once a day,  at the time of rain we would stay in our spacious room eating mangosteens, ranbutans, mangoes and other exotic goodies we would bring from markets in Denpasar. Absolute heaven! Then, we would go to many roofed areas within the hotel area and my son would play with his toys or talk to hotel staff. My husband would read and I would draw and paint. Heaven! Perfection! Nirvana!

In Sanur, we met a nice couple with their two teenage daughters. They lived across from our bungalow, so often we would get a chance to chat every time it rained. They were such nice people from England. One day they brought a box of doughnuts from Dunkin Donuts and offered one to our son. It was one of the first times my son had a doughnut or anything sweet! You can see in this picture he is a bit overwhelmed with this piece of goodness. He holds it with such sanctity! But I can tell you at that stage in his life he wasn't into that stuff. It was just something very new to him and he had no idea how to treat it. And now...it is a different story! Today, I constantly have to fight off his sweet-toothed demons with a lot of talk about good and bad choices!  Most of the time it works but it is like talking to a lawyer. I have to have winning arguments.

 Sanur is a great place to visit Bali if you don't have a lot of time to stay. It is close to Denpasar, the main port of Bali. Also, anywhere you go the majestic Agung is watching you. It is the highest point on the island and i think it is still growing, every time it erupts. The last time He did that was in 1963, spitting fire, smoke, debris and lava. He is still active. From time to time He shows off his power by blowing some smoke over the island just to remind all who is the boss. Hence, on the top part of the island the beaches are black from the volcanic activity.

The most fun was swimming at small beaches were local kids and their parents came to swim, play soccer and make sand castles. At the end of the day, when the sun and the heat were not so strong anymore there would be crowds. And on the way back to our hotel we would stop to have some street food. My husband would try the spicy soups and my son would engage in a casual conversations in Balinese language (Malayo-Polynesian/Indonesian).

Friday I Will Be Myself

On Wednesday I went to visit my mom at Yonge and Eglinton area. As I walked from the subway station I passed a few post boards on the northern side of Eglinton. I noticed an interesting post, and  decided to stop and investigate. It was a sheet of paper with just a few words written on the main part of the page, " Today I will be." At the bottom of the page there were about 10 strips of paper to be torn out by interested parties. On each strip there was a different phrase.  "helpful", "honest", "myself", "understanding", "strong", etc. I thought for a moment as my hand went from one side to the other, back and forth a few times. I didn't know which one I wanted to be the most. I needed to make a quick decision. I tore out.....can you guess?

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder"

Beautiful flowers grow so colourful. Yet they still grow out of simple bulbs. All the same underneath. This was my therapy drawing that I did in 2002. There is nothing more relaxing than drawing complicated root systems!

This morning I took out the same pair of pant from and checked the pockets. I felt a little piece of paper touch my hand. I took it out and slowly read it. Today I will be " myself." I always forget how to be myself because I try to please people around me. I like to feel their happiness because it makes me feel good to see them smile and being content. I do it so often that I forget to ask myself what makes me happy. I lose myself in their happiness so much that I don't remember about myself. That absolutely doesn't mean that I am unhappy. No way! I am happy through the people I love. But the point here is to be myself, be happy through my own contentment. Friday will be a struggle but I shall try!

Happy Friday, friends! Be yourself!

Thursday with Chopin

Have you ever had a feeling so much stronger than any rational thinking or reason could dictate you otherwise? Today I woke up early with that thought. And right away I thought of Chopin. The French eve attempted to claim him for his own. But he will always belong to Poland.  Just think about it, every etude, every polonaise, nocturne that he composed was his expression of longing to a place he was not meant to see again in his lifetime. And you can hear it in every note. The feeling it so deep and so strong that often when I listen, the feeling overcomes me. I absolutely understand him. Yes. It is possible to miss a place. And everyday of your life becomes a memory of something that was, a moment that made you extremely happy, a person that was your best friend. I get it! I cry with him in his unhappiness. He died missing Poland, his homeland. The place where he left his heart.

Kamikawa sketch

When I was leaving Japan a secretary of one of the schools I taught in told me that she would miss me a lot but she is happy because I was going to my own country, my place so I must have been happy. I remember how i turned around, stopped putting my shoes on and said to her that " I am leaving my heart in Japan." She stopped smiling and put her palms on her chest in a gesture of understanding. I did see a tear in her eye. She was moved.

https://goo.gl/photos/6u3sZJkzUf5oXHar7
Chichibu Cycling

Today the mayor of that town where my heart resides thanked me for missing his country. I thought it was so sweet and so honest. You can see his love for his own place of birth. One can only admire it and understand the profound impact such feeling has on one's character. I am very thankful for his comment and I hope that one day I can thank him in person, in Japan. And so that my heart can be happy again.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ef-4Bv5Ng0w
Prelude In E-Minor (op.28 nr. 4)

Chopin was never allowed to come back to his place of birth. He died in France. And although many aristocratic friends and admirers adored him and many women fainted just by noticing him on the street, he wanted to be in Poland. His longing for the motherland stayed in his music that we can listen to in various interpretations and skill levels. We can listen to it and re-live his profound sensitivity! I just hope that when his sister smuggled his heart back to Poland, it finally got the peace it deserved. He requested it himself when he was still alive. His sister hid it in a jar of some alcohol and brought it under her garments in order to fulfil his wish. I hope Chopin doesn't suffer the longing anymore and rests in loving peace in Holy Cross church in Warsaw.

Kashiwara-shi Home Memory

Kashiwara was briefly our home for a year and a half. Between 2001 and 2002, my husband, me and our two cats rented a house literally a minute from a private language school (Eigo no Juku) I worked at. It was owned by the owners of my school like everything else in the neighbourhood. We paid $200 plus electricity another $100-$200, depending on a season. We would always pay more in winters because of the heater. There was never enough heat. And the humid would make it feel even worse than it really was. No snow, no below zero temperatures, still, without central heating it was challenging.

Can you imagine. We paid $400 a month for our two story house fully furnished, clean and with talking appliances! Can you find accommodation anywhere in Toronto for this price? I can give my right hand that you cannot! And Japan has a reputation for being expensive! I can tell you right now it is the best country to live and raise a family! Everything is affordable! 

I worked at a private school so my working day would start at 12:00-13:00 and finish at 8:00-9:00 in the evening. I was the only one working but it was sufficient since I made a very good living! I would come home in the evening. No commute, just a minute long walk across a parking lot and through a small space between buildings and I was home. We would sit down, watch sumo wrestling or the news and eat our very late dinners. The kotatsu was inviting and the chairs were comfy. After dinner I would just put the plate aside on the floor and start sketching.

Queen Victoria Day

Yesterday, we celebrated my son's 9th birthday. It coincided with queen Victoria's Day that we celebrate here in Canada since 1902. I planned it at a part despite of everybody's warning about rain. Well, mother's determination is so much stronger than Weather Channel predictions. I willed that day to be just the way is was. We had some clouds, some sun, warm breeze and loads of positive energy! Thanks to all the guests it was a success. All those who showed up at the celebration made my son's birthday a very special day! Thank you! I am sending a big hugs to you!

I trace my son every year and we both paint it. These images are the first thing I see when I wake up. They hang on the wall opposite of my bed. Some days I wake up and smile at them because I know that in a split second the original will wake me up. But there are nights that I wake up from an uneasy dream, the first thing I see are three human beings with raised hands. And it takes a minute to come down and realise that everything is just fine... 

And today back to Tuesday! I started my day with this amazing song done by dinosaurs of Polish music scene. And even if you don't understand the lyrics, I think you will be able to enjoy the incredible vocals and a great melody. I get goose bumps every time I listen to it!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PAkFavge_ys

Nine Years Ago, May 22nd was a Thursday

Nine years ago, Monday, May 22. I woke up at 8 a.m. Took a shower. Tried to calm down and drink my INKA (Polish wheat decaf coffee). My hair was just right but somehow it didn't matter. Make up didn't matter either. I put on my burgundy, hippy style sweater with buttons at the front and my only wearable at this point jeans. I was ready. My husband and I locked our apartment in the heart of Toronto near St. Clair Avenue. We walked slowly to the subway. It was a nice, sunny but still cold day. However, on the subway it was uncomfortably hot and sticky. I was worried about sweating. I wanted to be and feel shower fresh and keep positive attitude. I was getting nervous.

Alek age 9, Mama age 44, Tata age 45

We got on the subway. There was no seat or I didn't want to sit. I don't remember. I claimed a comfortable spot opposite of the entrance and supported my weight by leaning back at the glass.  Yes. I was ok. I was thinking about future. Planning, dreaming, fearing. On the yellow subway line we got off at College subway station and walked towards Bay Street and a bit pass that. We walked to the main entrance of the Women's College Hospital. But we were there too early. The appointment card said 11:00. Be there 30 minutes before. OK. So we went for a small drink and something to graze on around the corner from the hospital.

Aleksander, Age 9

When we got to the hospital we were directed to the Triage where they were going to prepare me for the C-section. Yes. My son wanted to stay in my body but it was not happening. Three weeks before he was due (original due date was June 2, his father's bday!) he turned head up and that was it!The doc had to schedule a cesarean.  I really didn't want him to be GEMINI but somehow I managed to get an appointment for the first day of Gemini Zodiac sign. At this point I was hoping SHE, Hana, My Cello Player,  would pick up more of the Taurus traits. I had no choice but to go along with fate! 11:30 I was wheeled into the operating area. I wasn't nervous anymore. I just waited for the epidural shot to happen and I knew I would be ok. Dr. Rose Kung had been such an amazing doctor all through the stuff I went through. I knew she was the best one for the job. She would deliver my baby and me to the safety of our futures together.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S85RYl215KI
Aleksander's First Days and months in Canada.

Before Epidural they give you another anaesthetic so that you don't feel Epidural needle which is the size of a veterinary needle! Epidural kicked in very quickly and I couldn't feel a thing but I could see and hear it all. I was there same and wide awake. I was even talking with my husband while IT was happening. The birth of our child. Whatever she/he is he'she will be loved beyond reason! And at 12:00 my child is born! Pushed, pulled and massaged out. My child was here! I couldn't see her/him but my child was here. I could see the legs, the most beautiful feet, ankles, knees I had ever seen! Gosh! How I loved thee! The nurses took the baby right away to be washed. They were at the back, above my head and I couldn't see them! "Isn't the baby beautiful!" they asked! Both me and my husband scream at them the same words: "Yes! But what is it????". They didn't realise that we were one of the few traditionalists left! We didn't know the sex of our baby all 8 1/2 months! Not because we were nor curious! Gosh I was dying to know. But that was how my mom had done it and her mom before. Why not experience a bit of tradition!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x0GoQpwUmBM
Growing up in Japan. Alek age 1.5

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=orkxSBs1AU8
Pierogi Party. Alek age 5. Happy time with dear friends in Japan

At 12:00 My Hana, my Cello player turned out to be my life, my son, my Aleksander (the greatest!), my maybe-one-day-a cello player-son! Nine years later...he has been  Polak, Japonczyk, Kanadyjczyk, an avocado eating newborn, a schoolar, artist, pianist, cyclist, marathon runner, karate-ka, a swimmer, a book worm, Katy Perry backup singer, almost a teenager, champion, a dancer, but most of all my baby. He made my life worth while! I love him when I love him and I love him when we fight. It breaks my heart when I scream at him for losing his fiftieth water bottle or a sweater. I asked him if he know hat. He assured me 100%, yes! Even when I scream at him so hard that neighbours can hear. He told me he still feels the love. I am suspecting he is growing up to be something of a gentleman. He makes me feel like a queen. He gives me strength to go on.  How will I ever go on when he grows up?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jEl1WDcEo1g
Happiness is Being Together. Alek age 8.5

Today the portion of Women's College Hospital  that my son was born has been demolished, improved, made into a new era building and a parking lot. I take him there sometime and tell him this story. He doesn't share my melancholy. He just runs around parking lot, collects leaves and bugs. He is happy with what it is now!

Thursday is about Food Critics

I love food. I love to eat it and I love to cook it. I know what I like and what I don't like. But it doesn't change the fact that I always appreciate and respect the cook for putting in a lot of heart and energy. Whatever happened to our society. We celebrate people who hardly brew their own coffee in the morning. They are revered and listened to as if they were Einsteins of culinary world. They can make a person big and at the same time they can destroy  a cook within a minute. What makes them think that what they like is good! And why are we falling for it?

I just turned off a program about foodies, food bloggers who go around the most expensive restaurants who gobble down the food that is produced great effort and creativity and trash it as if it was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (not that there is anything wrong with peanut butter and jelly sandwich!) I just couldn't watch it! It was appalling. The way these pseudo critics give their pompous opinion to the chef is just disrespectful and ignorant! They usually sit with their stomachs spread out across the table, hands held high like kings. It is a master and slave visual set up.They themselves have no idea how to boil an egg! What gives them the right! We all have different likes and tastes that appeal to us so whatever this no good, stuffed pepper says has no value to me. They only got into the business because they write well. Just write and leave cooking to those who know how to do it! It is an upsetting sham, I tell you!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uUTdegqWklU&t=1s

In my humble opinion, a critic is a person who has mastered the craft him/herself to the point that they have the right to tell others how it is done. Is it just me? I don't want to see those programs anymore. They make me really upset because I cook everyday and maybe my food is not of international culinary standard, still I put in my heart and time into every bite. I know what it is like when sweat is coming down your back when you are trying to put a good bit on the table.

Breakfast Porridge Anyone?

Lunch Somewhere in Vientiane, Laos

One more thing before I go. What is this nonsense about putting strange object into food and pretending like it is a piece of sculpture! Food is for eating. It should be fresh, it should be good and it should be well presented. But let's not get carried away with irrelevant garnish on a plate!

Duck for Dinner , Vientiane, Laos

The pictures of food in Laos speak for themselves. No non-sense and 100% flavour. This food made us really happy. And although there were no tree branches, no gold plated candy, etc., we would never think to question the skills of these cooks! Hats off to all who cook! We salute you! Happy almost Friday, friends!

Wednesday's Frustration Brewing

Yes! Frustration! I feel helpless and without any say! Everyday last week I would make sure that my son is warm, well dress, feeling cool. And two out of those three days he came back without his top wear. Black Colombia fleece, Red and Navy GAP hoodie, dark blue sweater with buttons at the front! I realise that little boys are forgetful and in their heads there are a million more important things to remember than their clothes, but me and my husband work hard on all this so that he can be cool at school. I refuse to be a victim!! On Monday, I went to school to have a look at the lost and found but all I saw was some dirty old clothes from at least five years ago!!

Colouring Pages Series

Last night I wrote a long and straight from the heart message to my son's teacher so that she would help him find at least one of those items. So this morning she sent him to the lost and found and while he was there (most likely he only  looked at the box without even touching it!) she just asked if any of the class-mates took it! I am furious! Last winter my son came back without his winter jacket. And I am asking here were was the teacher who let's them on the school bus!!! Did this person not see a little boy getting on the bus without any winter wear in a minus XX degrees weather!!! How careless or heartless do you have to be? I complained to the principal. Don't let me get into that story!! There is nowhere to go and complain! Nobody will stand in your defence! If it was a poor old lady working for me as a babysitter I could sue her pants off! But in this case it is the Big Man! The state! How can I even point out their wrong! What can I do!? I feel like a little ant right before a huge boot steps on it and trashes it's home! But inside I am on fire! I need to figure this out! I need to act!

But if I see a kid wearing my son's clothes in the neighbourhood I will let the parent have it! I will not leave a dry spot on this person! I hope that is not the case and that it is just a misunderstanding or mistake and the clothes come back to my son. You know it is not even about the clothes. It is about a principle. People need to keep principles because they are people!! Am I naive? I am all about principles! Once I took my landlord to the Landlord/ Tenant Board. It is a court for residential issues. Wynn Realty left me all through the winter with no heat while I was pregnant. They didn't eve attempt to fix anything despite my calling regularly! Then, when I put forth the report they sent a guy to fix it hastingly and in the court they said that I lied just to be compensated. I was persistent. I didn't wink. I didn't let go of the rope. Well, the mediator there asked me why I was doing all that? Why was I wasting time like that. When I told him that it was all about principles for me, he laughed and said that nobody does it for those reasons anymore. Such a donkey that person was! Really?!! I persisted so long that the landlord called me to his office, admitted their wrongdoing privately, and we settled. Don't people get it? We must be civilised! Respect each other and each other's property!

I know I an just enfuriated and I will come down eventually. But definitely not today, nor tomorrow! I must do something! Any suggestions are welcomed!

Drawing By Yoshino-gawa

Last Sunday my brother brought to my attention the fact that I had been unplugged for a couple of days. I don't know how and what I did last night but I managed to fix it all by myself. I am especially happy because I pride myself to be more of a people's person and not trusting computers, buttons and electronic devices. I have decided to celebrate it with this picture that I drew with pastels in Tokushima.

We lived right by the Yoshino-gawa (River) surrounded by many rice and daikon fields. Aizumi was a small village and people knew and liked us.  In our neighbourhood we had a good reputation.  It is very important component of happy living in Japan. The farmers would very often give us daikon and other veggies freshly picked from the ground. And at night it would be pitch dark outside of our apartment building because there was no reason to light up those fields. It was a quiet and cozy place for the two of us. But if \i was there alone I don't think I would perceive it as a peaceful place. It would be rather dull and sad place for a single person without any access to other English-speakers.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5a9rSKvuxk&t=78s

At that stage in our lives we travelled a lot. Thanks to a little car provided by our school's owner we were able to drive all around Shikoku island and visit a lot of 88 pilgrimage temples. I think we did as many as 30-ish. Somewhere in our book collection there is a notebook that every pilgrim buys and gets stamps at each of the temples. So that you can reminisce after or have a proof of your pilgrimage. It just made me think if a friend of ours got one on his pilgrimage there and if he finished all 88? Hmm. Mr. F. let me know.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KhJ-RFcmwss

There are a lot of little altars everywhere. Like the one I drew. In the morning, I would cross a blue bridge near my place to go on the other side of Yoshino-gawa for exercise and satisfy my curiosity. There was a path with fig trees, wild flora, many frogs, snakes and cats. But a bit further into the land, on the other side of that river, by the road in Oasa-cho, there was this lovely little place. I would go there once in a while to draw and ring that bell that alerts Gods of my prayer. It was helpful to me because I had no way of going to a church. So I made do with what I had. I remember the day I drew this. It was very humid and the sun was ruthless. On days like that there was a special smell in the air. A mix of sea salt, greenery by the river, fish from the water and wood. I could smell evergreens everywhere in Tokushima. Maybe because everything in Japan was made of natural materials such as wood. It was an abundant resource. The mountains were covered by lush green multitude of evergreens. It looked and felt like a jungle. And the surrounding, although it is Japan, the most advanced technologically country, it is natural, traditional and organic.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V3h9eIdInZQ

Almost at the end of our stay in Tokushima, one of the students told us that there was a catholic church in the city and in fact the priest there was from Poland. We managed to meet with him and talk to him. But it was already too late. Mentally we where on our way out. Emotionally, we were already gone to Osaka for my next teaching contract.

Mother's Day Gift

Friday night, after I put my son to bed I poured myself a nice glass of wine, sat down in the living-room at the kotatsu and tried to relax. The next minute I saw my son slowly and quietly sneak out of the bedroom and come towards me. He does that stunt whenever he doesn't want to go to sleep, which is always! That's the time when he asks for a million things or a million things hurt or bother him. And usually I have to raise my voice to make him go back to bed. Then, at about 10 p.m. he calls me for the second 'buzi' (goodnight kiss) and then he finally falls asleep. That's our daily routine.

But this time I was relaxed or maybe too tired to react and just waited for him to explain himself. When he was close to me he leaned over to my ear and whispered, "Mommy, instead of second 'buzi', can I give you your mother's day present?" I just couldn't be serious or be angry at that point. He melted my heart. I hugged him and asked if he couldn't wait and keep a secret til Sunday. He nodded with "a cute puppy" look. So Friday night I got two cards, one in French, one in English and a beautiful framed picture my son drew. A lizard climbing a tree and around it there were little stars. As my son explained, they were it's babies. I love my son and I would give my life for him! My champion, my knight, my pomme de terre, my star!

Corsica, The Island that Conquered Us

Ah! Yes! Corsica! Land of the Conqueror!

 Many people would be disagreeable with this picture, but I am not trying to be political here. Please forgive! Just marking my territory! Corsica was a distant and difficult place. It was incredibly steep and challenging to cycle. All through this island I cursed and swore in words I never knew I had in my vocabulary. The last straw was when I struggled to climb a hill after a day of climbing with my gear and belongings when a fancy lady and her pretty boyfriend passed us effortlessly on their bikes laughing and joking. That was it for me. I made my husband change our plans and leave the island to go on to Sardinia. As it turned out, it wasn't any easier to climb. 

We docked in Corsica in the very early morning hours and decided to get our self-inflating mats to catch up on our sleep right at the dock while some people walked by with their dogs. We had no care if people were watching! When the day woke up and the hot sun with it, we went to town to see that awesome place that gave the world Napoleon Bonaparte. We visited his home and house of birth. So it happened that we were there at the same time as a Polish tour! So we caught a guided tour in one of the languages native to us! Also, we had a brief yet, pleasant conversation with some teenagers that were part of that tour! That really made us miss home!

At the end of a long day, we finally managed to find a spot away from people. We pitched our tent and had a nice sip of cold beer. It wasn't easy to find locum for the night though. At the back of my drawing I found a note. It said, "August 18th, 2005. Somewhere near Bonifacio, Corsica. This is a place where we definitely cannot camp because it is a nature reserve, but we definitely are camping!"

In the picture you can see other people are managing as well on a yacht. I remember it was a couple. They spent the entire evening swimming and enjoying their boat but they went to bed fairly early. We drank our cold beer and had to go to bed too. As always in a forbidden camp place, we had to get up before anybody else did to pack up our tent and get going. Thank you nature Reserve for being a gracious hosts. I promise we didn't leave a slight bit of a footprint! We were thankful for this beautiful and peaceful place to sleep.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lOyz70HXQM

I was very happy when we boarded a short ferry ride to Sardinia. I was full of hope for easier sleeping spots and definitely easier climbs for our legs! Life can be challenging but satisfying!

Happy Friday! See you Monday!

Eating Nutella from a Jar - Southern France

Those were the days! Cycling through different countries, sleeping in a different town every night, making 50-100 km a day felt liberating and romantic. Our bodies looked as fit as never before and we could afford to eat Nutella straight from a jar. We would each just grab a spoon and dig into the chocolate goodness for energy and comfort. We had no worries of calorie count, carbohydrates or fat. We were fearless, strong, adventurous. Everyday we would pick up where we left off the evening before. But as a Polish saying conveys, there are no roses without thorns. This incredible way of travelling had a lot of moment of doubt, frustration and fear. Mostly when flies tried to stick to our sweaty faces, the hills were too steep at the foot of Pyrenees, and there was no hope for rain. We had sun from Portugal to Sardinia. No breaks from the burning heat.

France was a comfortable country to cycle through. First of all, it was incredibly easy to find a public ground to hide for the night. In every little town we were able to buy fresh cheese, baguettes every morning. People were always curious about us. They would ask where we were from and where we were going on that day. They wanted to know how the cycling was going and were we would stay for the night. They would often corner us resting by the entrance to stores, mostly LIDL. Conversations took place all in French! I really have no idea how! We don't speak a lot of French!

The countryside of southern France has an unrepeatable charm. I don't need to sell it to you. Every Hollywood movie about that part of the world is truly not lying about its beauty. It is so simple and natural that it looks like a fairytale land! Lots of flowers, trees, beautiful riversides. One night that I remember so well was when we found a cozy sleep in a pine forest. The needles offered a lot of comfort for our tired backs. It was one of the best  night sleeps of the entire trip. Quiet, away from the crowds, and soft! When we woke up, opened our tent we were greeted by bunnies hopping around. It felt like a story from a book!

Then another day we cycled by a busy road. Lots of cars and noise. But at one point we noticed a lot of pink dots in the distance, in the marshy waters. To our disbelief they were Flamingos! Another day in France offered a rare look of wild horses feeding in a conservation area. Dreamy landscape. It was the same place where we found ourselves on a ash - coloured sand beach. It would continue for km. We couldn't get to the end of it! We almost gave up thinking that we were lost. When out of nowhere a car road appeared and we were saved! This day was particularly distressing because pushing a bike that weights 30 something kilograms through deep sand was not an east task.

Once traffic, busy road. tiring day, long hours. almost at the end of the day we were looking for a place to pitch our tent. We made a wrong turn and before we knew a cop pulled us over. He rush towards us from the car. He looked very angry. Red face, saliva spitting. Almost rabid rage! He started screaming at us in French. Waving his arms in the air furiously! We had absolutely no idea what that was about but he was taking it so personally it had to be very serious! We managed to squeeze a few innocent, shy words in French in between his loud speech, "Sorry. Sorry! Do you speak  English?" The genius of a cop he wasted no time. Just sucked in more air and repeated everything in English, with the exact same enthusiasm! His face was almost purple. Now that is how seriously cops in France take their job! After a while he came down and escorted us with his patrol car... to the highway exit. Yes, by accident we ended up on a busy highway. Luckily, there was a big traffic that day and this policeman found us, plucked us out and put us back in safety of a country road.




France is a place were people are intelligent, curious and good, the food is beyond expectations, forests are safe to sleep. And cops are there to serve and protect, not just punish! Thank you mister police officer for letting us go unpunished for our ignorance. But it was a really a long and tough day. And all we wanted to do is find a place to sleep. Anyways, thank you for letting us go safely unpunished. You are the best French policeman we know!

Moroccan Water Fountain in Fez

When travelling by bike across Mediterranean Europe, my husband and I didn't omit to use the opportunity of being so close to Morocco, my university obsession. I remember when standing at the edge of Europe at Tarifa, Spain, we waited for the sun to go down to be able to have the first gaze at the lights coming from the other side of the sea, the African continent. Tarifa is a enticing, historical city itself and already looks and feels like Morocco. Although it is still Spain, you can see heavy architectural influence of the Moors. White buildings with medina - looking hallways, arches and narrow streets. At night, the old city is lit with warm yellow lights so it is an incredible experience to take walks. Little streets are full of cafes and restaurants that offer Mediterranean, Spanish and Moroccan food. We spent there only one night before boarding a ferry across the Straight of Gibraltar to Tangier, Morocco.

From Tangier, our base, we travelled to a few other cities. We visited Meknes, Quazzane, and Fez. We visited Rabat's bus station but decided not to stay because our couch surfing host stood us up and we had no planned place to stay. But that wouldn't scare us even. We were simply tired and angry and frustrated because we waited for the host the entire day at the station. We had a phone number that was never answered so at the end of a day like that we just got on the bus to Fez from Rabat and left. The trip was comfortable and interesting. There was a lot to see through the window. Children on donkeys, desert landscapes, markets, little square huts and shepherds with their flocks. Every time I looked behind my seat I could see a man sitting and gazing at me and my husband. He would smile politely and nod. I thought that was very friendly. I think we even engaged in a quick conversation about him and he told us he was going home from work at the market in Casablanca. His English was very broken and limited so there wasn't much we could talk about after that.

After a few hours we arrived in Fez and automatically at the station we were attacked by numerous taxi drivers, food vendors and hotel commissioned personnel. And since we had nowhere planned to stay we chose the nicest and the least pushy guy and went with him to a hotel. We ended up in a very cheap, simple but fairly clean hotel room with bright blue walls and very limited furniture. I specifically remember how we put our bags down on the bed and said how incredible it would be if we could possibly find a can of cold beer to split between us! But I wasn't getting my hopes to high! I was prepared for a sacrifice of being in a Muslim country. Beer! Not a chance! Especially in the medina, where we always liked to stay. Maybe it was possible if you went to the modern part of the city and party at the famous Moroccan clubs. But I cannot testify to that since I have never left the walls of the medina in Fez!

We left the room anyways to look for something to eat. Somehow the same man from the bus appeared! He immediately recognised us and so did I him. We began talking about our plans for Fez. Very quickly we found ourselves checking out of our room with his help, of course! He offered to have us in his home. So all of a sudden our evening turned out to be a home party with his 5 kids, his wife and a few other aunties. The women prepared an amazing traditional food that we ate with our hands, we drank some mint tea and enjoyed homemade sweets and dates. When the kids got tired and the hour was late, our friend offered to take us to the traditional bath/spa (Hammam).  However, only my husband got a wonderful chance to use it since the women's part was closed for maintenance. I am not going to hide from you I was ticked off about it greatly and for a moment accused the world of a conspiracy against me! But life went on and my gracious hosts made me quickly forget about that. We came back home and were sent off to the same room that we partied. This time, however, to sleep. There were no beds, no futons, no blankets. We were guests of honour so we slept on the couch, but the rest of the house slept on the floor covered with beautiful handwoven carpets. See it for yourself in the video below. The kids were thrilled to sleep in the same room with us. And were having experience of being in a Moroccan home, experience of our lifetime. Sleeping in a naked hotel room with blue walls doesn't even come close!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LxwB39Zi_kE

The next morning we helped the lady of the house with some desert making in the kitchen. (You can see it in the video as well.) She was a cook weddings so she would prepare these condensed milk and nut bonbons and other goodies. And she let us into her kitchen and be part of her crew! Her sons, her sister, her husband, her daughters and us! I remember as i rolled the bonbons in my hands i looked around the circle of people sitting at that kitchen table. I remember thinking how beautiful the lady of the house was. She had a big, powerful, strong frame. but a very delicate, noble beauty, perfect skin and hair hidden under a colourful scarf. I felt honoured because I knew that in many cultures, especially in a Muslim culture, a kitchen is a very sacred place. Mr. and Mrs. Smith, the king and queen of Western tourism, usually have no permission to enter. She made it possible for us to feel special and be picked out of the crowd, so to speak...



After the session in the kitchen, Sayed took us around the old town and showed us some beautiful places and introduced us to a few artisans. I remember the biggest moment on that day was when I saw a water fountain. This highly utilised, everyday piece of public space was so ornamental and so colourful that it resembled some sacred altar for the Gods, similar that of altars in India or Bali! Still today, when I think about it I am left in awe! Such an incredible attention to detail. I remember how many cats gathered there to drink from it too. The hot dry climate drew everyone breathing to it. Humans and cats alike revered this life giving place.

I think I have posted the Moroccan video here before but yet again, new memories from Morocco came to my head. They are not really memories. Memories and little instances that happened. They are much bigger. They are CHUNKS of my life that are tattooed into my memory forever. One day I will be telling them to my grandchildren. There are many more from that trip so if you remember something I don't, please do remind me! I want to remember everything! I don't want to miss any of you! Wonderful people deserve to hear about their good hearts and kind minds!

Happy Wednesday, my friends!

Childhood Memories

Yesterday's event made me reminisce about my childhood. I thought of many evenings of arguments with my parents. They wanted me to come home and I wanted to stay outside and play with my friends some more. It was never enough! We played elaborate versions of hide and seek, pretend store, pretend war, we made "Secrets". For those who are not familiar with this last Polish kid play invention, allow me to explain. Secrets were small pictures hidden in the ground. We would collect pretty papers, flowers, leaves, anything that caught our liking and imagination. Then, we would search for a piece of a flat glass (yes, glass was very readily available everywhere and we all survived!), dig a hole in the ground away from the crowds. Remember we were making secrets! We would arrange all the findings into a nice form, cover it with the piece of glass so it would look like a picture, and throw a good amount of soil to hide it and making it your secret, your treasure. We would share it with besties only! So innocent and so creative! Good old times!

We would run around construction sites, play in school yards, walk through forest, hills and wild parts of parks. No fear, but no danger either. People were good and trustworthy. Kids were fearless and respectful. And on the last day of summer vacations we would all gather in our neighbourhoods, sit around benches and gossip, fantasize, dream, complain, make fun of, love and hate. But most of all, we would cross our fingers and wish for the night to never end, for the next day to never come. The school year was a torture. Loads of homework and nothing but studying and talk about studies. But then, because it was so demanding and hard, it also made skipping school with the entire class more pleasurable. It made us feel like champions, high achievers, rebels. And teachers had become these big giants who didn't scare us anymore! We were fearless on that one day called "The National Skippers Day"! I know that many of you who grew up in countries other than Poland cannot identify but trust me, it was all glorious, fun, liberating! Yet, we grew up to be respectful, responsible, loving and caring people.

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10150534695976814&l=06839bfc18

I think my parents would tell you a different story of the communist era. It was hard for them. They had to make it work for us to be able to live a decent life, be dressed, eat, go to school and live a respectful live. And I am conscious of all that. I am thankful to them for giving me all they could. At the same time I feel like something is gone irreversibly. My son will not experience it. He will never know what it means to stay up until 12-1 a.m. in order to finish homework or do all the prescribed readings. He will never know what it means to come home with that well earned A+. Also, he will never know how grown up it feels to play outside with friends till the wee hours of the evening! He will never know how responsible it made me feel to cross streets, go to school, pick up some eggs from the store for mama, all by myself.

I just shared my most private secret of how I used to study to get goo grades and remember all the info. I  would study all day and then, right before going to bed i would put all the study material under my pillow. I am telling you. it worked every time. I needed no cheat notes. I would all leak overnight, right into my empty head!

https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipPDekM3k0Zxr4D9oQRGTvTvCeO1j9-Qo1moFtXX4H-sDxqV__vtZR7m5NmMP7U7AA?key=b2lkMGZwUWtzbVVHNHpOUW9SSFJYd0dpV0pNN0Jn

Can you identify with any of that? Let me know. I am curious about you!!

I Haven't Seen You For the Last 20 Years!

Yesterday my family attended our friend's son's First Communion. Although we came home at a very decent hour we were all tired. My son fell asleep at about 11:00. Hence, this morning when I saw my son sleeping so angelically in bed, I decided to let him sleep until he woke up on his own. He got up at 8:10. I don't think he is able to sleep longer than that! This morning was a very relaxed and peaceful Monday morning. On the way to school we stopped at the post office and then slowly made our way into the school's office to get a late slip.

We walked in and I looked at the face of the school secretary. It looked very familiar although mature and professional. I blinked and took another look. She was looking down at the computer. No, there was no mistake in my mind. Before I jumped to hug this woman I decided to make sure. I stuttered with a low, morning voice , "Ewa". At first she seemed to not hear me but then, she looked up and looked at me with a serious face. She didn't say anything nor she made any facial expressions. She just kept looking at me. I wanted to go behind the counter and hug her but I stepped back thinking that I could be wrong. I said "EWA" again. This time I said it as a question. She smiled. Yes! Now I was sure it was my best friend from the high school years!!!!!!!!!! There were three of us. Zaneta, Ewa and Ewa. The first one moved to Sudbury, the second one stayed in Toronto for a while and the third one moved back to Poland for a while. There is a lot more to the high school story but it is not for today. Something got lost in translation and we lost touch with each other.

Have it not been for the fact that we slept in today, I would have not met her. She would be right here, in my neighbourhood and I wouldn't have known! Fate is an incredible thing. I don't believe it is just a coincidence! I am speechless about how this life thing operates!!