
Been
here and
here. I am full of impressions like an album is full of pictures. Also little stories that don’t make sense. Like the old unidentified lady who died crashed by a car when crossing on the red light. I saw that last night, before it was on the news. Also the taxi driver seemed to have valid explanations for all the misfortunes lately. No, not only my misfortunes, the humanity’s. Well, apparently this year the Orthodox Easter is on the same day as Saint George. Plus the end of the world is coming. I told him I knew that, however I did not posses the exact date. The taxi driver said that the people were very discontent, and there would be an uprising like the one in ‘89. I did not contradict him. Finally, when we arrived and I paid he asked me if I had any bags in the trunk where he had put them. Erm, geee, I don’t know. Let’s see now. Was I coming from the airport? Do people usually sport bags at the airport? Is the Earth round?
Come to think about it, I just wanted to say that Melk sounds like “snail” in Romanian, but ended with the full post above.


Use you imagination, add the virtual long bunny ears, and this could be the bunny-car. Notice the flat tire on the right, see what’s coming from too much pointy carrots? BTW, this is
the funniest thing someone sent me the whole past week.

This must be like the worst picture ever in the history of this blog. A picture that needs explaining generally is. But this picture is very dear to my heart. I have just taken it to illustrate yet another chapter in the life and sufferings of the Romanian block-of-flats inhabitant. Those who know what I am talking stop reading.
Once upon a time there was the neighbour upstairs. S/he had a pipe / faucet / central heating etcetera that was so old and sad and lonely that one day couldn’t take it anymore and it broke. The water started running and down the walls, the floors and all the rest, there was nothing that could keep it together, could stop it, until the neighbour downstairs nervously rang the door, called the plumber and the like. Being caught between a rock and a hard place, actually between a very present neighbour and a very absent one, you tried to cope. Moping the floors, moving furniture, placing pots and pans under the dripping ceiling, calling 112 ( EN), making friends with the administrator and the president - these are two characters I might describe lengthily at a later time.
There is nothing like a timely-timed flooding, early enough to allow for some sort of solution -
solution, that is somehow not the proper word here, but I’ll just go with the
flow, oops, another one! so to speak. I won’t even be late for work. But the sweetest hours of my sleep are gone. I love Tuesday’s, don’t you?
