while I dream of barcelona, I give you the english riviera

English Riviera
Originally uploaded by gorgeoux

In between Exeter and Plymouth, the train goes along the English Riviera (Torbay). I enjoyed it twice last week-end, and more so because I had no idea it was out there; sunny mornings and pink sunsets are always welcomed surprises in my life. I chose this piece of music (Danza Espanola, Op. 37, H. 142 - XII. Arabesca) because the area reminds me of the train ride on Costa Brava (Spain) and I'm in the middle of planning our escape to Barcelona. While this is not the greatest video yet, it should give you an idea of what I enjoy (and why waking up at 6 a.m. pays off sometimes), as well as what a simple camera and an easy to use processing software can do in thirty minutes.

new arrival: rays of sunshine

rays of sunshine, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Here goes the first tickseed/ coreopsis that bloomed in our balcony, making it sunnier than London would have it. A pleasure to have these flowers around since they're my summer favourite and there's no way to buy them, otherwise. A lucky find to brighten our lives for months and months.

before I could reach for my camera

A large, colourful bird like a hen of long tail was strolling calmly in the field, metres away in the sunset. And then they were four, picking at the grass randomly. Four pheasants.

A suspect somersault in the tall grass. A second one behind it, like a delayed tridimensional shadow. Two rabbits playing away. Then four, and then six. Happy and fluffy.

A black woman with the body of an athlete and the simplest, yet most sophisticate business clothes: high heeled sandals, slightly golden, cappuccino skirt, flared, a bit shiny, crisp shirt, toothpaste white, tucked in to expose a perfect abdomen, its long sleeves a wee bit flared. Floating on the street with her perfect make up, perfect hairdo, perfect suitcase, and a tiny dark gold carrier bag from Macy's. An American in London.

A minute away, a blond woman that hardly had time to brush her hair, wearing long, black linen trousers, a black top, and black flip-flops. Carrying a large black handbag that can hide the office high heels and discarded beer glasses, stomping along the sidewalk. An English in London.

A tiny, dynamic Latin woman walking with a tall, quiet Asian woman in search of a drink in Soho. A perfect body in the shortest dress. A perfect body in the longest dress. A Portorican of tight trousers and shiny hair, long to his bottom. A casually dressed surfer of exquisite accessories. A tall old man walking his bike in shorts alone, shorts that look like boxers. An executive in his forties and a suit, followed by a boy in his kakis and his teens. The world keeps turning.

729

729, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Speeding up. Still in the background. On the road, UK

chez gorgeoux: tomatoe bread for the morning

tomatoe bread, morning bread, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Yesterday evening I put together this amazing new bread once its promise crossed my mind: plum tomatoes, baby leeks, and basil leaves. It came out bang on, feeding both my mind and my tummy this morning, and I'm making an effort not to go back to the drawer for more right now. I'm also making an effort to recall not to press the baking program button on the machine next time, but the kneading one: the breadmaker takes ages to bake; my tray and oven combo's so much better.

gold clouds and moonstones for the modern princess

gold clouds & moonstone necklace. Karakola, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

I've fallen in love with Karakola
jewellery in January this year and my only complaint ever since has been that I cannot yet afford it. I came across her Garland by chance and instantly desired it; I can't remember the last time I laid eyes on a piece of jewellery so simple, yet so striking. I imagined wearing it as a necklace, in more ways than one, and as bracelet, too—perhaps every day.

The designer behind this brilliant invention is Karola Torkos, a woman decided to give noble metals unique and versatile forms. Only recently has she tapped into adding beads to her creations and I find it an inspiring endeavour once again: here's my favourite necklace from her show at Coutts London Jewellery Week (June 2008, first ever), gold clouds and moonstone beads. Just like the garland, these gold clouds will change shape whenever you wish, as if you had a brand new necklace each time. Why not turn them into flowers? One day my budget will finally befriend Karakola; I'll know I invested in a piece that will startle and enchant my admirers for a lifetime.

Prices vary and Karola suggests you contact her for a quote; I guess, more so for the very young moonstone necklace. There are a few indicative prices on Object Fetish, though.

This post has been initially published as a guest writer on Chloe's blog, Her Accessories.

728

728, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

The lily of the valley efect. Bucharest, Romania

chez gorgeoux: make do with what's around, and what a find

baked fennel, crisp bacon & fresh apple, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

We've canceled all the food deliveries, organic or not. We've found ways to not break our hands with carrier bags each time we're in a cool food aisle. We've filled countless jars with many pastas, rices, dried this and dried that. We've even taken serious action to keep our fridge sexy—or, as my tired self put it last evening during the picnic in the park, keep our sex fridgy (God forbid! or, for the Romanian reader, Doamne apara si pazeste!). We've yet to learn to make do with what's around, to make do beautifully again and again.

Though working at home is a bliss and the interruption of cooking lunch or dinner is as blissful, rarely do I stop to ask: could this be any better? On a day I did, last week, it urned out it could. Better yet, baked fennel, apples, and bacon were all we had around. Plus the odd lemon. Enter the tasty, tasty salad that convinced me I haven't looked good enough at fennel, though there were the soup and the first salad and the second salad. I want to start a fennel quest. Provided we remember to buy fennel. If only to make this third salad again and again.

new arrival: sunny kalanchoe

sun on sunny kalanchoe, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

There was the unexpected arrival of the first kalanchoe and there was this looping whine of mine: can we just go to Columbia Road Flower Market the next Sunday we're at home? And then there was the first Sunday we were at home, and I slept late because that's what I want to do, in fact, every morning, but can't. The second Sunday at home it rained horribly. The third Sunday at home we went to a concert. The fourth Sunday at home wasn't at home at all because all of a sudden I wanted to wake up at 6 a.m. and jump on a train. By the time I couldn't see a potential fifth Sunday at home in the calendar and the feeble summer seemed to be running through my fingers, I gave in and took a stroll to the only decent flower shop in the neighbourhood, desperate to get a baby with flowers, or more. Mission accomplished. Though I couldn't resist one without flowers, and kalanchoe wasn't what I had in mind, and that fourth Sunday? I ended up buying more plants with and without flowers. For what is a girl to do with her balcony but green it?

overheard on the street

Just don't let her see it on your face, yeah? Sweat your hands, mate! Was she a teacher? A lover? A landlord? A boss? A gym instructor? A nun? A scientologist? A colleague? A flatmate? A mother?

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727, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Mission aborted. Ha Noi, Viet Nam

what a glorious day!

By noon today I had already done a handful of things I love: had extensive cuddling, made and drank coffee (the home brew is so good that last Saturday we filled a flask with it before traveling first class, which fact brought about being called normals by my love's sister), ate walnut bread, Romanian salami, and strawberries (largest, sweetest, reddest, juiciest yet this year), did serious gardening, introduced my love to one of my all time favourite pieces (since the music teacher used the vinyl to show us how to recognise the sound of many instruments in an orchestra), Maurice Ravel's Bolero (part I and part II on YouTube as directed by Herbert von Karajan's in 1985) and remembered with equal joy Maya Plisetskaya's Bolero (part I and part II on YouTube as coreographed by Maurice Bejart in 1976), which inspired me to master my body while dancing.

The best of all, perhaps, was finishing all my gardening for the year: filling all our previously empty pots, arranging them om the balcony, freeing space on shelves, reshaping a few existing plants and planting many new babies bought over the week-end or queuing for my attention for months now, like arum lily/ calla, early sunrise/ coreopsis (my all time favourite simple flowers), fuchsia thymifolia (Mexico-Guatemala area), myrtle/ myrtus (the colour of its flowers is still a surprise), euphorbia cyparissias/ cypress spurge and cycas revoluta/ sago palm (a cute, very slow-growing Japanese palm that isn't really a palm). Enchanted and entertained, I then started working, and I will argue until the end of time that the best way to go about life is playing before work and not only afterwards. Ideally, in fact, even during work, if not instead of it.

726

726, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

I don't know. Bucharest, Romania

every other morning

I'm barely awake when he starts talking. I certainly have no voice. When I try to shush him, I'm as successful as a fledgling bird. Significantly less articulate, less loud than a newborn child. He keeps waffling. Annoyed, having hushed the alarm already, I lock him into a blind embrace, like one would draw nearer a cat that rose before the sunrise only to pester one awake.

"You'd like me to shut up", he says. "But this is nothing compared to what you're doing at night."

I hug him closer and push his head towards my breast to quiet him through either affection or temptation. He adjusts his face so that he's comfortable and breathing.

"Right when I'm falling asleep, you're suddenly going Tell me about your business plan again."

I laugh. I have no voice, but I laugh. He's just amused me into awareness.

"Or, rather, I've come across a problem with Einstein's relativity theory that I must run by you."

"At least you can't complain my chatter isn't intellectual."

He laughs. That was it, that was my voice. I'm whole again, I'm up. He won. Just like I win when my waffle puts him to sleep much faster than his charged brain would otherwise allow. We're a win-win, I kid you not.

725

725, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Rice field. On the road, Viet Nam

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724, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Aren't you funny! London, UK

this week on my professional blog

I have started updating my professional blog more seriously. Also, I have begun the lengthy process of moving across the relevant posts, published here over the years. It's hard to believe that my company is almost five years old; almost as hard as believing that it's not even my first company, or that my blog is almost three years old. All that counting aside, here's what took my fancy in the past week of the working life:

Friday reading: intelligent life
Wednesday reading: death to lorem ipsum & other adventures in content
Monday crossroads: becoming a designer, first

weekly earthquake

weekly earthquake
Originally uploaded by gorgeoux

I've explained several times at least—an itsy bitsy obsession there?—that our washing machine is close to bringing the building down; just like any other washing machine in this house, it takes off like a helicopter during its spin cycle. Here's a video to prove it, my first Flickr upload of the kind. Now that this is sorted, I expect the following ones to be more artistic and less boring. The whole editing and saving process has been very easy thanks to iMovie, so you may understand my temptation.

new arrival: umbrella tree

umbrella tree, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Yesterday I went out decided to bring home new babies. They were supposed to be colourful by means of flowers, and resistant. Well, I couldn't resist the umbrella tree though I've never seen one pop flowers. Resistance it has, as one exemplar lives successfully on rain alone, forgotten on the little terrace in the back of the house—when I leave this place, it will go with me, of course. Until then, I wanted my own, smaller version, and accepted that colourful in this case will be the pot, bought at Easter time in Ipswich. Now the teapot isn't lonely either, and the left corner of the balcony pleases my heart. To understand my level of craziness, I also got this one because it is a darker green and variegated version, unlike the one outside. Because they will live together one day, right? And you want them complementary, right? You want some variety, right? A tinsy umbrella tree collection of sorts. Even more pleasing to the heart.

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723, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Ministry? London, UK

chez gorgeoux: my first onion soup

red onion soup, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

It tasted as good as it looks, and for once I was able to cook just enough soup to serve two and leave room for a second dish. Also, it turned out so easy to make that I can't wait for another go, next time I have too many onions around and 45 minutes to kill. Another benefit? I finally managed to add flour to a dish without messing everything up. Here's looking at me!

my favourite things: shiny pins

golden doggie pin, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

This is to show how cute the similar owl must've been, and how useful in keeping closer too revealing a cleavage at times. The owl was maybe one third as big, and of even finer detail. This doggie is maybe the size of half a thumb. Both were rather inspired March 1st gifts from my cousin, in Romania, but it took me years to reach that point of view, or that size of cleavage rather. Now the poor shiny doggie is lonely, as no other pins match it. What a sad, sad story!

street finds: even more coins, and festival catch

even more coins, and festival catch, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Here's the new street (and festival grass) catch (in case the little plastic bag and the green fire lighter weren't obvious new style items). As for what I lost, there was a tiny, pretty, shiny pin in my top, and I was left with the back, uninteresting bit of it after making my way through a huge crowd with two, almost intact, pints of Carlsberg. With thousands of people at Lovebox and Manu Chao just starting to make us jump in front of the main stage, the threatening, stormy clouds just gone, there was no way to find a cute little owl pin of white and green rhinestones. It is dearly missed, and I can only hope that it is dearly loved by a new owner instead of dead forever inside some garbage bin. RIP.

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722, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

From a distance. Paris, France

monica dean, wassup?

Monica Dean in Cannes, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

There was a time when I got really excited with Monica Dean (here, here, and here), a Romanian TV star that proved a good actor, out of the blue, in The Death of Mr. Lazarescu, the Romanian movie amassing 22 awards so far, including Cannes' Un Certain Regard (2005) and BBC Four's World Cinema Award (2007).

I was, in truth, excited with Monica Dean moving to Hollywood, taking acting classes, and making it to the Lost series—mainly due to her looks, I'd guess. But what happened before and after that? She actually debuted in Buds for Life (2004), a comedy rated 8.4 on iMDB that I've yet to see; not bad, it'd seem. After her appearance in Lost, however, she played in no less than five horrendous movies, and only scored a brief role in Nip/Tuck.

It is only these days that I'm getting interested in Monica Dean again, as she's starring in Out of the Night next to Peter O'Toole, among others. The movie is in production, which may mean we'll be seeing it soon, yet there's hardly any detail about it online. Hmm. Anyway, can she act?

why you shouldn't write marketing e-mails before the first coffee

Hi Ms. Mirona Iliescu, I'm Amelia from SocialMatic Team. I've came across your site [...] under the blog category "Nutrition" at BlogFlux and I'm would like to inform you that your site are interesting and worth sharing to other users online. Hence I would like to invite you to join the SocialMatic network and hope you can share your favorite sites and bookmarks through SocialMatic. [...]

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721, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Quiet corner. London, UK

amen!

One thing about technology, is that it tends to make people generally lazy about their levels of commitment. Alexandra Deschamps-Sonsino in a post titled personal ubiquity.

chez gorgeoux: dinner star gives encore at lunch time

rice noodles, zucchini, spring onion, roast pine nuts, mint leaves, chili, coconut & lime, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

One night last week we were, for reasons now unclear, in a veggie mood, so I threw together this salad with love: a handful of rice noodles, two zucchini fried-steamed in the smallest bit of oil, two spring onions, plenty fresh mint leaves, plenty roast pine nuts (a pleasure to make, but fast to brown), coconut and chili flakes, a touch of olive oil and the juice of half a lime, plus a sprinkle of turmeric, ginger powder, and sea salt. It was divine!

What's it called? No idea. I followed no recipe, not that you can recognise recipes once I'm done with them. The only temptation higher than messing with recipes is turning one good dish into another good dish, and I got to do it the day after, when lunch had to be tasty, simple, and quick as a wink. The remains of the initial salad met a crisp lettuce and the hot paprika salami, another touch of olive oil, another half of lime, and sea salt. Again, divine!

lettuce, salami, rice noodles, zucchini, spring onion, chili, coconut & lime, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

oh, dear, he called me a munchkin

And that? That was the last drop. I've read, heard, and overheard munchkin these days so many times that now I'm bound to call everything, yes, indeed, a munchkin. You've been warned.

720

720, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

That way? London, UK

mmm, mmm, so true

Sartorialist: Sometimes the business of running a blog can affect the day-to-day of blogging.

chez adrideo: bacon sandwich at lunch time

bacon sandwich from the grill, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

This is the humble (peasant?) and yet so tasty food we enjoyed today on the balcony, in the sun, at lunch time. For a brief time it felt like November again, and then it slowly turned into April and May so we're going to rush to the park for another picnic while November stays away for a bit longer. As for his favourite thing here, I'm still undecided in between these amazing bacon sandwiches and the high pitch of the fire alarm going off each time he grills something—forgetting that we have a fire alarm, a loud fire alarm, and a record usage of it, too. Also, a sash window.

over the rainbow

Sitting next to me in the bus (or was it a restaurant car?) Monique showed me a note in beautiful handwriting, attesting that she was to visit both the Lieutenant and the Colonel for one hour each. They were rather amazing tailors, and notorious rivals. I wondered aloud why she needed them.

"I need proper dresses now" she answered with a smiling nod. "What with receptions and all that."

"But why only one hour each?" I asked. "Are they that fast in measuring and sewing?!"

"No, silly" laughed Monique. "I'm going to tea so that they can meet me and hopefully like me."

It made a lot of sense until I woke up, and so did the whole rest of the dream last night.

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719, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Holiday. Nha Trang, Viet Nam

chez gorgeoux: 'tis the season to wear purple tongues

yummy blueberries, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Because I can't say no to berries, and especially new found love, blueberries. I know I could actually cook with them, or turn them into jam and syrup/ cordial, but so far I've been more than happy to pop them raw and use them in cocktails.

street finds: more coins come my way

more coins come my way, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Though no five pound note found me yet, the latest collection does amount to 1.34 pounds and some beads, most of them useless. The cute monster badge would go on my pouch, with the others, unless it were dirty and rusty. Already amassing the next finds, and so far it looks like nearly double this lot's value. Though I did suffer a loss to be unveiled next time, so I don't know who's winning, in the long term. Perhaps the girl who picked up my lost item.

classic delights: plenty pink petals

plenty pink petals, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Once the bad aphids were pushed back for good, more roses bloomed in our potted garden.

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718, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Missing in action. London, UK

on our table: colourful weeds

colourful weeds, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Spotted in the Regent's Park one evening this week when the sun called for a picnic in tall grass.

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717, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Layers. London, UK

all that sets women apart and brings them together

London - buttons, detail on jeans, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

This year alone, I've documented woman outfits on camera in London, Paris, Viet Nam and Singapore. Amazing how much they can have in common and yet how they manage to differentiate themselves! Whenever I have the odd sitting around waiting, or having a drink by myself, I can't stop watching the world go buy and, in the case of women, think: What a dame! What a riot! What an idea! And then again: What a trend with the black and white stripes this summer! What a miracle that polka dots stayed! What a coincidence! Many times regardless of what catwalks suggested for that season in that part of the world, I give you my inspiration ladies in some 60 photos... this far. The set will keep updating, rest assured.

similar shapes: what do to do, what to do?

similar shapes, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Thankful I needn't choose, for I couldn't—I change my mind every other minute. Alexander McQueen's stiletto-heeled sandals vs. DSquared2's bejeweled strappy sandals, as seen on Manolo's Shoe Blog a while ago. What would you pick, and why?

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716, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Two faces. London, UK

there went the first wedding

Jade & Oliver's wedding, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

At the wedding last Saturday, the two ladies you see on the left hand side were among the very few people dressed better than for a picnic, unless you count the bride (sweet low key, notice the dress and the bouquet that never got thrown—or was I smoking too much?) and one of the bridesmaids (right corner, on the lawn, shiny fuchsia dress). One woman in three wore a fascinator, which created very amusing hen or cabbage pictures in my mind, and only one, as shown, a hat. Don't get me wrong: fascinators are fine, just like any other headpiece (cloth, shoe, etc.), when they suit you. Like those magnificent red shoes suited that simple green dress.

Bottom line: I've seen a couple of nice pairs of shoes, a lot of men in kilts (whether Scottish by birth or by studies), and, overall, men better dressed than women, either those sitting at what's known as the top table or guests. I'm sure anyone could see me from a mile because I had a long, shiny, pink, vintage coat over my dress, so instead of being fine or in tune, I was standing out. Good. I know what to expect from the next three weddings now, though more people from London will come and they may plan to dress at least as good as they do when going to the office.

Before I make this post entirely about fashion (I think it was the chic that truly lacked), let me say that yes, that is peacock, rather bored with us as it must've attended too many receptions over the years. And, yes, that is an old car, which makes sense when the National Motor Museum is within driving distance—the wedding took place and the guests were accommodated in various places around the New Forest. As well, yes, that is a ride in a tiny steam train, while we all listened to songs enjoyed by the happy couple. And that caged thing next to the train is a tree (of many) planted by Liz in the large Exbury Gardens belonging to the Rothschild family.

While we're at it, and because I love all things counter-intuitive, I must insist that the wedding hasn't been posh; perhaps aspirational. Or am I spoiled by the Romanian habits? Foremost, it hasn't been a wedding for young people, in style, though one needed vast resources of energy to spend the first half of the day (church at 11 a.m.) waiting for the party, eating next to nothing, and drinking much too much dangerously sweet champagne, and the second part of the day (3-4 p.m. onwards)—queuing for food, drinking some more, and dancing until midnight. Instead of dancing, I strolled in the gardens among lilies taller than me, smoking, enjoying the rare ray of sun, and praying it would all be over as fast as the buffet food vanished. It didn't happen.

I don't know when I started hating weddings so much, but the first English one didn't help change the situation. I recall enjoying weddings at 4 y.o. (when it was about strangely elaborate ballet-gymnastics solos on the dance floor and bossing older boys around) and 11 y.o. (when it was about the bestest outfit already, and dancing with even older boys). Everything that followed was... yack, as far as I haven't already deleted the memory of it. It's hard to count just how many weddings I managed to avoid, some purposely, some because of earlier, firmer plans—thank God!

Imagine me last Saturday having to stand up and sit down, stand up and sit down, stand up and sit down every time we switched from singing (hymns, but not me) to listening in the church and from listening to clapping in the marquee (tent sounds so uncool, they thought). That's the essence of an English wedding for me: stand up, sit down. By now, you'd have asked several times: Isn't there anything you liked? Anything at all? There is: one of several bridesmaids of complex responsibilities (main, chief, etc.) read Us Two (Winnie the Pooh can always charge me a tear) in the church, an A. A. Milne poem she'd slightly modified for the bride and groom.

Then she got drunk at the party, shown her husband the finger, and thus made him dance.

it's been a while: more things mirona

Mirona, originally uploaded by mono vattier.

It seems I share the name with this device in New York; how cool is that?

Alice Chess Set, originally uploaded by CSM Product Design 08.

It seems I share the name with a material that turns transparent when light shines through it.

la mirona, originally uploaded by iuketa.

It seems I share the name (and big eyes?) with la mirona = the watcher, staring girl (Spanish).

Best yet, though unrelated, this story about the Miro player: When Democracy Player launched back in February 2006, the feedback received was that the name evoked different, yet equally negative responses. For many Americans it conjured up an image of yet another left wing media project, and to the rest of the world it was, rather bizarrely, being associated with the policies of the Bush administration. In contrast, the new name is purposely abstract. (source)

Because, as we've learned, Miro means nothing in Spanish, not even the name of a painter.

in search of the perfect bed

second day, second bed, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Having lived for a year in this flat already, it feels like our quest for the perfect bed takes a bit too long. The landlord had a silly, cheap divan in here that broke our backs for free night after night after night. The nth day in the row when we woke up more tired than we'd gone to bed, we had enough. The quest started the following week-end, with desperation and dedication.

We tried countless mattresses and beds in many shops down Tottenham Court Road, and ended up at John Lewis, exhausted and hopeful. There, the best mattress we could afford was special: handmade and to be delivered in eight weeks. We made the reservation payment and braced ourselves; a bed was still needed, and theirs were ugly and/ or expensive.

My long hours of online search paid off, eventually, when deciding to visit Warren Evans in Camden, as they build reasonably priced, proper wooden beds to order, deliver them within a week, install them in a few minutes and also take away the bad or dead item filling your room. On top, they're kind, sweet, and fun, and our lovely bed is guaranteed for ten years now.

Once the amazing mattress arrived—we painfully counted the nights—we had to find a way to protect it, because it's been a fortune and we expect it to last, as it should, a lifetime. We used our previous mattress cover until it drove us nuts by slipping in either direction and taking the sheets away with it. Oversize does that, so off it went, and so did we, looking for another.

The first buy, a John Lewis again, turned out to be a simple thin cotton sheet that is rather amusing than protective. That one got swapped a few days ago with a new, thicker cotton and wool mattress cover from the same shop, and while our sheets don't run away anymore, our sensitive backs are pained once more; a night did it, but we pursed our lips and had three.

It will come off, of course, and we'll sleep well, once again, on the unprotected mattress in danger of not lasting a lifetime now. Yet certainly not damaging us either. We're lost for ideas: we tried natural in all shapes and fabrics, and we can't go for anything plasticky for fear of ruining all good investment in the other, more important, elements of the story.

Meanwhile, various beds across Europe increased our horror, as not even boutique and five stars hotels know what a good bed is, or what goose feathers mean in a pillow. Yes, we are fussy, and we're ready to pay for that while away from home, hoping that as soon as we return, we'll sleep like a king and queen again. And then, we slept in five beds in Viet Nam and a sixth in Singapore.

Two beds at five stars Evason Ana Mandara & Six Sense Spa in Nha Trang, one bed at above-five-stars Six Senses Hideaway in Ninh Van Bay, one bed at simple, maybe-three-stars Heart Hotel in Ha Noi, one bed in a random, perhaps-two-stars junk (boat) floating on the South China Sea and one final bed at five-stars-methinks Mandarin Oriental. Weren't we in heaven!

Regardless of stars (or their absence), regardless of bed frames and bed stands (from wood to rattan), Asia doesn't compromise on mattresses. And that powerful, comforting memory is likely to make me cry today, when my back upsets me and we don't know what tonight or tomorrow will bring. Wishfully, a strike of inspiration if not the perfect mattress cover falling from the skies.

second iBath

I took another bath today—am I spoiled!—and investigated the iPod Touch some more. I was quite taken aback by its battery dieing after maybe three hours of use in two days, altogether. It reminded me of mobile phones' batteries running low fast once you leave the Bluetooth on—why is it that best battery life to day still implies Li-Ion? Why hasn't that technology moved on? It did charge fast afterwards, the device, so I won't whine too long. In other news, I had fun using its Remote app to play songs off the mini through iTunes, and chose a punchy Blondie album to celebrate yet another November day in London. Then I spent a little time trying out another app, Writing Pad, which allows you to write words by tracing them on the keyboard. The idea is so beautiful and simple! Writing on the iPod Touch does mean you move your finger from one letter to another, thus creating a shape. Unfortunately, shape writing doesn't help with blogging, just notes and e-mail, so I don't see myself practice further. I tried to send a tweet but, while the Twitter page looked OK, there was no countdown for characters and that felt strange. Still in two minds, and posting this from Zoey.

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715, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Sister of mine? London, UK

if I had a macbook air, not pro

swarovski crystal case for macbook air, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

From USD 460 at Vaja, though there's nothing as pretty for my Zoey. Some tastes never change.

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714, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Camouflage. London, UK

iPod Touch extravaganza

I've just had my first iPod Touch browsing session. In the bath. Forty minutes flew by in a blink. The experience is greatest ever, yet frustrating: no tags in Google Reader, none of my browser tools around. As I will post this from the device, typing with one finger built these sentences in the time needed to smoke two long cigarettes—a long time, that is. At best, this works as a writing tool for microblogging. The silly camera of the iPhone could also add to the party if there's enough light around. Also, couldn't see a YouTube video because it wasn't ready for iPods. I'm in two minds, as you can tell. Maybe I'll report back another time.

Later edit: Zemanta links didn't show up in Blogger either, though I expected that.

something red, something floral, something cute, something hibernal

red floral print bag (armani on yoox), originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Imaginary wishlist goes on: handbag for this fall-winter by Armani Jeans on Yoox, USD 128.

713

713, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Arching ginkgo. London, UK

chez gorgeoux: salad-landia, where I sometimes live

tiny tomatoes and spring onion, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Few things are as appealing to me as a well balanced salad, in any season, at any hour of the day, alone or next to other dishes, hot or cold. If I had to live in salad-landia, I'd be quite happy, as I can think of many culinary worlds I'd rather not inhabit, like red-meat-landia. All in all, salads mean so much to me that they now have a whole, new, dedicated Flickr set, so check whether anything looks sexy. While the bowl above only features my all-time favourite simple tomatoes salad, there are more combinations of veggies, herbs, and juices to tempt your eye and palate.

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712, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

In between. London, UK

my favourite things: glass fishes, creatures, characters and marbles

glass fishes, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

The big ones bought in a shop in Bucharest with my own hand, the small ones received as March 1st gifts. The blue was even hanging on an invisible thread to an empty glass globe so that it could float on water. I loved using it as such for a few years.

glass creatures, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

These have all been March 1st gifts. I had more, but some broke over the years and over transport. Some of the remaining ones are as old as twenty something years. Kitschy? Perhaps, but they sure spiked my childhood dreams and fairytales.

marbles, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

I've found all the marbles above on the streets of Bucharest. The oldest is from when I was 7 years old, and the newest (that tiny, tiny one) from last year. I picked it up in pitch dark, walking down Covaci Street with my love. Call that an eye for shininess.

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711, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

I wandered lonely as a cloud. London, UK

my favourite things: ankle bracelets and cat bells

ankle bracelet, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

My second ankle bracelet had a cat bell making many laugh that I wore it to let people know I was coming or to never forget where I was. In fact, I was wearing the cat bell because I had lost my first ankle bracelet unknowingly and wanted to stop that from happening to the second one. OK, the sounds and their effects on others were also cool, but that proved just a marginal benefit.

The trick proved worthy as that silver bracelet broke and fell off my ankle several times, on floors and on the street, and sooner than later I noticed the sound missing and traced my steps back to find it. Silver, however, can only be fixed a number of times, and that bracelet has had more than enough. It will one day contribute to some other silver item provided I learn how to work with silver or, more likely, find a willing silversmith.

Imagine my joy when I found the ankle bracelet pictured above inside Oxfam! It looked delicate and fun and, by all means, it had a cat bell. Too good to be true? Rather: it was too small for my severe ankles. So I took it to Romania and introduced it to my sister. She doesn't wear ankle bracelets, but saw fit to use it as a ring, and loved it. Soon after, that unusual setting led to the unusual event of losing the... cat bell. A new saga.

Or not? On the occasion of sorting out my perfect desk and its surroundings, I did look closely into my collection of beads, buttons, and various small jewelleries needing a fix. Sure enough, there were three cat bells calling for a new master and bracelet, in all sizes and sounds, so now they're carefully tucked in a sachet, ready to travel back to Bucharest and help the legend go on. Of course, substitutes are still required in the life of a certain West End girl, but I'm certain they'll come when time is right.

710

710, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Handed to me a few months ago. London, UK

muxtape: how could I resist it?

I have finally created a muxtape, because it's almost impossible for a former radio exhibitionist and cheezy club/ private party DJ to not do so. It is, if anything, a mere matter of time. Even the average music lover can hardly resist falling in love with the simplicity of this website. My selection consists of twelve songs I love these days, when summer is one of the main things in my mind (yet not in my world). Not all tracks are new, but all are good, and loved, and some, hopefully surprising. Enjoy my mixed tape as I trot about Hampshire's (?) New Forest in search of my first English wedding. Funny enough, there were going to be four weddings, then three (one moved in 2009), and then four again. Oh, well, I can take them all easier with the right tunes on my iPod. A bit of electro, a bit of blues, and a bit of rock. Have a harmonious week-end! Ta ta!

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709, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Ah, sun! London, UK

introducing: perfect desk. will it last?

perfect desk. will it last?, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

The desk vision (there was one all along) finally came together in the past couple of weeks: the desk itself must be rather empty (so that I can cover it in this and that, now and then), while the needed effects (pretty, non-functional items included) must be within reach. A third principle surfaced last week, when, myself almost done with it and eager to brag about it, the cleaner messed it up to no end (because that's how much she can think—order, yes, structure, no): this desk is off limits; I'm the one and only dusting it and such. She asked me about this only three times today, poor bewildered creature.

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708, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Inviting tap. Unmemorable beer. Brighton UK

soulmates?

iJustine ends her presentation video, which I happened to watch a few minutes ago, with a bold, honest statement: I'm distracted very easily. Look, something shiny! Friends know why and how.

they never made it: we were family

we were family, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

About this time last year we went to the seaside in Romania (my love insisted, and I was quite happy to show him a proper beach and a proper beach nightlife) and received this bill at checkout, for Family C-Iliescu, Mirona Jackson. I laughed at that mess up, though there were many more in that hotel for which I didn't quite feel.

in a few words: London, XXV

peonies drying, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

My love more or less stopped telling me how summer can be amazing in London, against hard evidence that it isn't, for the second year in the row, to my knowledge. Could doesn't make the sun shine. When it does shine, occasionally, it rather burns everything, from my roses to my skin—quite accustomed to heat, I would've thought. That same untrustworthy sun partially dried these peonies on my desk before their time had come. Their current state makes it so much easier to feel and think it is November each time the sky goes dark and rain starts pouring, which can be every other minute. Because in London, November comes and goes as it pleases.

These days, my love checks the weather forecast religiously. It's a guaranteed source of laughs.

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707, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Great idea. Great ink. Great shoes. The shadow is mine. London, UK

gotta love apple lovers: mac usado

mac usado, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

More at mac usado, Brasil, upon registration. Finding used products made easy.

my favourite things: chunky bracelets

chunky bracelets, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

One of the heaviest Christmas gifts last year, the original bracelet was one link shorter than needed; and, as the story goes, the shop assistant and her showroom child-size arm knew. We forced it on my wrist once and tried a couple more times, until, a couple months later, I visited the jeweler and had it replaced on the spot with one that has an even longer, slimmer T bar, as seen. At the opposite end from the delicate and versatile Swarovski necklace the previous year yet, no matter how much I like the shininess of crystals, I cannot resist solid silver. A win!

It is so me that I find it hard not to wear it all the time, and hard to give it up before bedtime.

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706, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Into the sunset. London, UK

O2's iPhone "its" free

O2's iPhone "its" free, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Because so is grammar. Funny that for once it's gets spelled like its, not the common viceversa.

wyborowa's website menu

wyborowa's website menu, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

While we're on the subject of drinks, does this website's menu look familiar? Aha. Smart?

spotted, and tried: iniquity, 8-10 northcote road

iniquity, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Iniquity Bar on Northcote Road looks a bit generic from the street (poorly used stock photography a minus), but its menu is filled with properly balanced wonders and makes it worth traveling to Clapham Junction for a few good drinks on a sunny afternoon.

I had a Bloody Mojito (where blood oranges were a surprisingly lovely addition) for 7 pounds and a Basil Fawlty (with yummy raspberry puree) for the same money, while my love savoured a Dark'n'Stormy classic for 6.50. I can't wait to go back and try more cocktails!

Their careful and large selection of spirits is probably the most amazing feature: Smirnoff Black Vodka, Tanqueray Gin, Cariel Vanilla Vodka, Buffalo Trace Bourbon, Whitley Neil Gin, Doorly's 5 Year Old Rum, Beija Flor Pura Cachaca are only the first page out of seven.

I must note that the menu looks as good as it tastes, that the funk music played while we were there worked quite nicely, and the service was almost impeccable (once they cleaned the tables). They call themselves the quintessential neighbourhood bar, but...

if Shochu Lounge is three stars, this place is two, and two stars are as rare as three in London.

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705, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

A world of bokeh. London, UK

tanabata: wishing up/on a star

Tanabata, originally uploaded by WF3.

It is the custom in Japan on July 7 to write our hopes on straps of papers and to hang them, wishing they come true. Happy Tanabata! I wish you have as many wishes as there are stars.

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704, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

I want that bracelet. London, UK

mixology: grass vodka basil lemonade

grass vodka basil lemonade, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

The Friday cocktails stagnated for a bit, and we have holidays and evenings out to blame, nothing else. Last week, finally at home that evening for perhaps the first time in months, I got even more serious about my quest for great rum drinks and did a delicious brown rum + lime + plum liquor that still needs a name.

And while we're on names, you can see I didn't do any better last night. I must begin baptising my creations or there'll never be any marketing and is that how I want my babies to grow up? Unbranded? Undistributed? Unloved? Thank God that on the matter of taste they're doing swell. In fact, divine, and I say it with great modesty.

There are no secrets to this cocktail other than balancing ingredients, preference for this lemon or that, the type of basil you choose, and the amount you use, your taste in sugar, the ice you have and how you crush it (I'll get a professional tool), and how ballsy you are in picking the vodka—I went straight for Zubrowka.

As you can see, grass vodka basil lemonade is but a piece of cake for the occasional housewife.

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703, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Because without shells, toothpicks are so vulgar. London, UK

be afraid, be very afraid

I've started to lose track of important things—my own thoughts—within seconds. I only have that feeling, the memory of a memory. And memories of posts I've written across the years, like that previous linked one from February 2006! I knew there was one around here, and I knew how to find it within seconds. Very useful, I'm certain you agree. Then, I remember details that scare me in their smallness, like the number of e's I must write after Mari in order to send her a Twitter reply or direct message. Six, six e's. You'd think I'm keen on expanding, efficiency, knowledge, synergies. Perhaps I am. You might also think I'm unfocused, uselessly multitasking, rushed. Quite so. What troubles me is where I stop being the warm, familiar, likable, to self, old me, and switch to some confusing, under development, pretty much live creature. Need I evolve this fast? Need I forget that brilliant little dialog I wanted to share with you? Need I write everything down? Need I trust my memory to recall only what matters? Need I know now what matters in the long run? Need I be aware of a long run at all? Need I better get up and mix some Friday cocktails?

There were two dialogs, in fact, and a couple more things. I know because there's their memory.

his favourite things: zen bathrooms

as close to zen gardens as possible, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

You may remember the start of the zen bathroom saga, you may not. Suffice to say it's ended quite happily these days, thanks to Freecycle, two backpacks, and a black cab.

A trip to Infinity Motorcycles (!) in Holborn last Saturday and here we are, sorted with enough stones that are white and pretty and fitting and, well, a future pain—think removing them, rinsing them, washing underneath them, etc. Unless you're bourgeois enough to have a cleaner.

And if not, any beauty comes with a price, and our bathroom's so far looks worth it. And is more legal than previous adventures.

If looking for such stones, note that the shop has way too many and is dieing to give them away. I wish we had a patio.

thriving: passion flower

thriving passion flower, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Awaiting flowers, though they may not come this year. Our neighbour's provides some, meanwhile.

my favourite things: le creuset, tres petite

le tres petite creuset, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

I begged my love to get this one some months ago. I had to beg because I couldn't answer the question: what would you cook in it. It is the smallest cocotte I've ever seen, so the question seemed rather aimed at my sanity, and correct. I explained I just wanted to be able to look at it and would fill it with the tiniest plant (maybe), sweets (happened meanwhile), or beads (!).

We then saw the older, uglier version brought to the table at Arbutus one evening, containing more baked potatoes than my love's steak needed, and I chatted up the waitress, excited. Unfortunately for me, the waitress was cold and boring, just like all the other members of staff. So, while we warmed to their food, the combination of their service, prices, and obvious drive for profit would make us think twice before returning.

At an even later date, struck by inspiration, I baked two Portobello mushrooms that he adored—and he does know his mushrooms—for lunch, and on a secondary note I was able to prove that the petite could work on special occasions. Ever since, it's been used a couple more times, perhaps. Presently, it's half full with chocolates, in the fridge.

And casually, last Saturday, stopping by a charity shop on Northcote Road to get a few more Le Parfait jars, I met my second tiny, tiny cocotte, which simply doubles possibilities and opportunities with its presence. My only disappointment was that he didn't move a muscle as I showed up at the till with it. Not one. I suppose I'm not well without a certain level of begging and justifying. I also suppose I'm not boasting at all with this post. Why, everything in our house is either functional OR beautiful!

le tres petite creuset, deux, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

five o'clock: chai tea of spices & orange peel, new teapot in action

chai tea & new teapot, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

The chai tea is, how else, one of the lovely tea pigs purchases. The teapot, a nice Bodum.

spending high and low

v&a shop, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

V&A shop imaginary wishlist: wired bloom necklace (GBP 145) and tape measure belt (GBP 20).

mother's maiden name? how about first love or iguana's name?

tired of mother's maiden name?, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

oh, google, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind

traffic stats comparison, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Shouldn't the first three items in the traffic report on the left side show up in the traffic report on the right side? Thought so. You're looking at June's monthly reports from (Google's) FeedBurner and Google Analytics. Like they matter.

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702, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

For salt and pepper, oyster dips and posh meals. London, UK

last saturday: when life hands you cassis

when life hands you cassis, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

A walk around Clapham Junction in search of former Slide pizzeria plunged me into several amazing worlds at once. The high street nightmare, be it Oxford Street or other, the Northcote Road street market beauty, the chat with the butcher who's been there for forty years and doesn't mind Whistles opening next door, eating an amazing chicken-pork-mushroom pie sitting on the sidewalk, discovering the one of a kind Iniquity Bar (more to follow on their cocktails).

Then again, my oh my, these cassis tarts, all alone among strawberries and raspberries.

today in brief

1. A Perfect Day for Swimming, painting by Nicolae Comanescu, part of the Bercs enyi project. Bercs enyi is a fancy spelling for Bucharest neighbourhood Berceni, where Comanescu lives.

2. Romanian copywriter Mihnea Gheorghiu, 22 y.o., among internships at great advertising agencies across Europe, won a Bronze Clio award with his proposal for Voting and Recycling in Camden. He also got a Silver Lion in Cannes for prints promoting an online Scrabble game.

3. It is the age of Zaha Hadid. Possibly the greatest woman architect yet holds the cover of Intelligent Life's summer issue, had an exhibition at the Design Museum last year, and presented the Swarm Chandelier at the V&A in 2006, when she also gave an interview to The Guardian. Next to working on projects from Dubai to Singapore and Rome to Istanbul, I hope she also plans to have a proper website soon.

4. A new Orange campaign to debut in UK this Saturday runs under the tagline I Am Everyman (accompanied by a website). With their new global vision for partnership with customers (partners?!) and new slogan Together we can do more (tres original) replacing successful The future's bright, the future's Orange they've just locked me outside of the target audience: I don't want to be their partner, I want them to be my provider (if!), and I certainly don't want to be everyman. Agency Fallon offers more details.

5. WriteRoom provides a clear screen, a few font and background customisation options, and no further formatting options. It saves your rant as a txt file and, once you tried its promise for no distractions, you may decide it's worth paying for it in order to go back to basics. I believe that my love has been writing a novel ever since the morning.

6. The World Beach Project is all about, hmm, beaches and stones around the world. Honestly, I find it brilliant and sometimes breathtaking, so find out how to make art in your holiday.

7. T'was time to give today in brief posts their own label and feed, so check the sidebar.

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701, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Change the focus. London, UK

two sundays ago: chilling in soho

twisted view, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

I've been meaning to tell you about Cafe Boheme on Old Compton Street in Soho for months now. I felt, at first, that its new incarnation was going to become my (Grand) Cafe Amsterdam away from Bucharest. Everything was tops, some dishes even amazing, the waiters brilliant and the closing hours—late enough to keep you partying into morning.

Then the French fries stopped being perfect, the bar turned cocktails out in random fashion, and for the two last Sundays we've witnessed them closing before midnight. It's still enjoyable, still worth, but not my most favouritest place to crash on a whim—albeit, none is, and that's very sad news indeed for an area gleaming with life and laughter.

That story aside, in this rather funny self-portrait you see yours sincerely chilling out at Cafe Boheme's nearby sister venue, Boheme Kitchen and Bar, also reopened recently and seemingly run by one of the former Cafe Boheme waiters. It's lovely that they open the large windows so that the likes of me can sit on the cushioned windowsill, smoke, and take the whole world in.

The food? I wouldn't know; possibly similar in price and quality. The drinks? We had Leffe, and that was on tap, a nice and rare touch in London. The DJ played an amazing number of my favourite former DJ tracks; though, God bless him, on vinyl. The evening was warm for June and, in my tiredness, I wore the sunglasses like those posh kids I dislike.

Afterwards we saw The Edge of Love at the Curzon around the corner, which proved fairly easy as only a few lunatics like us go to the movies past 9 p.m. on a Sunday. Both the movie and the late hour experience—highly recommended; what with their midnight hour films during the summer! In honesty, there isn't as much Dylan Thomas as promised, but that's fine.

Last Sunday wasn't so lucky and chilled. We showed up in Soho too late, and after strolling about more tempting places, ended up at Balans, because nearly every other venue was pulling the shutters. Oh, well, Balans isn't that bad, after all. But isn't my most favouritest either. When you want to kill the Sunday evening blues, Central London isn't the place.

chez gorgeoux: a light veggie lunch the other week

French style carrots, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

The carrots are steamed for 10-15 minutes, thinly sliced, and then lightly fried in very little olive oil. Egg beaten with mustard, olive oil, black pepper and salt is poured on top. You must stir constantly for another 10-15 minutes. The sesame seeds were my addition, I roasted them separately on a very low flame until they started smelling, browning, and looking oily.

cucumbers & olives salad, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

The secret to turn tasteless cucumbers (the only breed in UK regardless size and colour) into deserving ones is to slice them and leave them to rest, with salt for 30 minutes. Rinse them afterwards, dry them (kitchen towels work great), and use them in salads. This one involved Kalamata olives, a bit of black pepper, a bit of olive oil, a lot of lemon juice and a fair share of lemon thyme. Properly refreshing summer treat.

my favourite things: kokeshi dolls

my own kokeshi doll, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Baptised Kaja, my own kokeshi doll landed from Japan a bit more than a week ago, and into my hands—last night. God bless Mary for having read about my neverending passion for Momiji dolls and being so thoughtful to pick a very modern, similar kokeshi for me.

If it weren't wooden and smallish, I would take it to bed with me for inspiration and protection. Also, if there wasn't a soft teddy bear in my bed already, next to that guy.

Seriously now: when I look at Kaja I'm reminded of myself sleeping, happy and peaceful to the sky and back. When lucky.

street finds: needles and coins

needles and coins, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

The coins are here for colour rather than value; they'll end up with our larger collection awaiting a trip to the bank. The needles? It was too good to come across them in the same day. The chain surfaced on the grass in Southwalk park, where I wouldn't normally go.

The key? Isn't it funny that it came back to me? Alright, there must be millions of them around, popular as an umbrella; but still. The bow comes with certain fancy schmancy flip-flops, I later found out watching feet in the tube—faces rarely carry something of interest.

But the prize, the glorious prize is that sterling silver leaf shaped earring from the neighbourhood. Fitzrovia wins!

almost 18, and counting

hearty hairpins, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

I saw the sea for the first time when I was 13 y.o. and my parents broke the chain of Transylvanian holidays for a week in the sand and sun with beer and pizza—a riot! These hearts were eye-catching for both my sister and I, especially having just come out of a communist regime of nearly no delights. Mom said we can have one of each available colour—they were pricey—, so we'd have to share. We shook hands and here they are, nearly 18 years later.

How I got all of them from my sister a long time ago, I don't know. Trickery and extortion?

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700, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Spring in June. London, UK

romania: fifth fastest country, broadband connectivity

fragment, akamai state of the internet report 2008, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

And that is why I miss Romania, at times. Read the full report from Akamai Technologies for details and other worldwide connectivity charts. Via my love.

two thursdays ago: taste of london, detailed

21 L'Atelier du Joel Robuchon, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

My photos and thoughts on the Taste of London food festival deserve their own mini-blog and that is why, for a change, they're featured on Flickr. Go check the set of 23 pairs and let me know what you think; am I too much of a princess? Not that'd be news.

In brief, we aimed at Michelin star restaurants and have been more or less disappointed (more so by Gordon Ramsey and his team), with the notable exception of Le Gavroche, which we hope to crash soon. We've also discovered at least one eatery worth investigating, though not holding any stars yet—Launceston Place. Also, we confirmed our taste when familiar places like Salt Yard presented two of our favourite dishes in their trio.

A good experience in what stands for good weather here: two fine days and a storm, compacted.

last night we went to Romania

After a brief stop at my parents, we left towards an amazing resort in the mountains, where a lost cousin was supposed to greet us. My love started picking some lush mushrooms in the forest around the accommodation (hotel?), excited at the prospect of a super dinner, and asked me to do the same. So I did, and the hot summer afternoon turned into evening, and then night, and then morning again. Meanwhile, I had traveled miles inside and around this resort, on my feet, a bicycle, and on a plane. I found mushrooms but had no time to pick them. I spoke to cute kids and dangerous people. I drank Pepsi from a can someone else had started and ran with a large, fluffy dog in the golden fields. I tried to find my love and got lost in the building. So many rooms looked brilliant, with elaborate tapestries and flowery curtains projecting carousel lights on the walls, flowing into yet other rooms. I wasn't scared; bewildered, rather. A bit upset for not getting mushrooms, but that was all. And then I arrived. There was no airport building, just a dusty road and a rusty gate in the late morning sun. My cousin was there, holding a toddler, and I wasn't happy to see him; there's reason behind losing him in the first place. Luckily, Felicia jumped in front of me, hiding me from him, and away we went, to the same building, perhaps, to discuss all that hasn't been said.

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699, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

If I lived in Bucharest, Romania.