Dear sisters,
It has been a while.
I have been shuffling about.
Just came back from a min yoga-retreat in the Alps. We did not leave the hotel for four days but saw greenness and clouds through the windows, which is also consciousness, as are you and I.
As we contemplated the inner body during the day (“puff up your kidneys, lean into your liver”), Gerhard, our waiter twirled around our dinner table in the evening. He seemed to be an even mix of Mr Bean and Basil Fawlty, with ADD and an Austrian accent thrown in. “Yeez, Madam, you want..?” He twirled and was gone with his little tapping machine, before you could say; “Please, could I change the three meat special for a vegetarian option tonight?” “And bring the wine list, too.” It took two days before the hotel realized that a group of yogis are generally not so keen on Austrian meat specials (pork, beef and chicken piled neatly on the plate) and we got the vegetarian option straight away, which was often a bowl of beige with cheese on top, or a stock cube in boiling water with croutons. The juicer at breakfast was a big hit though.
As I went in, my body felt as if it had been borrowed without asking, thrown around a bit and put back in haste. Going out, it felt like a stretched version of the same rambling tin-man body. That running, which I do in my other life, is not doing much for my limited flexibility or my knees. I am at that midway point when 42,5 km just seems like a long way to run. Did I tell you, I was training for the NY marathon? My husband and I leave the house all wired up with GPS, heart monitors and bum bags. If you want, we can talk extensively about running schedules and our average running pace; unless that should bore you, of course.
On the house-building front, we are being asked to make decisions on doorknobs, taps and showers. What color do you want the cement between the tiles. How do you want the tiles to line up? Where should the ceiling lights go? The heaters should be positioned exactly where?
Even with someone appointed to think things out for us, the above is enough to get me staring at German sanitary sites like MEGABAD.DE (it is indeed necessary to shout the name) for hours, not knowing exactly what I am looking for. Well, do you know what your ideal toilet looks like?
With good intentions, I will be back, here with you, soon. The images provided today for your viewing pleasure, are the result of a flick through the German Vogue lying around during the disappointing Holland- Denmark football match on Saturday.
Cheerio,
S1
Dear sisters,
It has been a while.
I have been shuffling about.
Just came back from a min yoga-retreat in the Alps. We did not leave the hotel for four days but saw greenness and clouds through the windows, which is also consciousness, as are you and I.
As we contemplated the inner body during the day (“puff up your kidneys, lean into your liver”), Gerhard, our waiter twirled around our dinner table in the evening. He seemed to be an even mix of Mr Bean and Basil Fawlty, with ADD and an Austrian accent thrown in. “Yeez, Madam, you want..?” He twirled and was gone with his little tapping machine, before you could say; “Please, could I change the three meat special for a vegetarian option tonight?” “And bring the wine list, too.” It took two days before the hotel realized that a group of yogis are generally not so keen on Austrian meat specials (pork, beef and chicken piled neatly on the plate) and we got the vegetarian option straight away, which was often a bowl of beige with cheese on top, or a stock cube in boiling water with croutons. The juicer at breakfast was a big hit though.
As I went in, my body felt as if it had been borrowed without asking, thrown around a bit and put back in haste. Going out, it felt like a stretched version of the same rambling tin-man body. That running, which I do in my other life, is not doing much for my limited flexibility or my knees. I am at that midway point when 42,5 km just seems like a long way to run. Did I tell you, I was training for the NY marathon? My husband and I leave the house all wired up with GPS, heart monitors and bum bags. If you want, we can talk extensively about running schedules and our average running pace; unless that should bore you, of course.
On the house-building front, we are being asked to make decisions on doorknobs, taps and showers. What color do you want the cement between the tiles. How do you want the tiles to line up? Where should the ceiling lights go? The heaters should be positioned exactly where?
Even with someone appointed to think things out for us, the above is enough to get me staring at German sanitary sites like MEGABAD.DE (it is indeed necessary to shout the name) for hours, not knowing exactly what I am looking for. Well, do you know what your ideal toilet looks like?
With good intentions, I will be back, here with you, soon. The images provided today for your viewing pleasure, are the result of a flick through the German Vogue lying around during the disappointing Holland- Denmark football match on Saturday.
Cheerio,
S1
