Gimme stitches

The day after tomorrow I'm getting surgery - and I'm scared shitless. The plan is to fix my torn labrum (shoulder) by an arthroscopic procedure. Even though it's a short and relatively simple procedure, it sucks big time - the recovery period is long (6 months at least) and by the time I will see the inside of a gym again (somewhere in May 2010) it's gonna be starting over from 0 again.

Anyone has any better ideas than my surgeon?

I don't like the idea of being cut open, or get a bunch of incisions for that matter, I don't like the idea of being left-handed for almost two months, nor do I like the idea of getting a syringe poked in my neck for the anesthetic. But the idea that I'm gonna be a wimpy little fatty with arms the size of toothpicks and a stomach that stands out further than my chest, is just the biggest fucking nightmare of my life.

AWOL

OK, so I haven't posted much lately - to say I have been super-busy might be a slight overstatement, but I have definately been caught up in all kind of stuff that comes with settling in a weird place like this. Moving to another apartment. Getting paperwork done with the bank. Getting driving lessons. Going to the gym. Yea, all lame excuses, but anyway.

Just for continuity's sake, I'm posting two pictures. The first is the charming building I live in. And, as it's holiday season, one of the christmas decorations on Tavisuplebis Moedani (Freedom Square).

My building; my flat is on the 4th floor (3rd floor European counting) right underneath the brown DIY balcony-extention.

Turning the St. George statue into something vaguely resembling a christmas tree on Tavisupleba.

Greenback fun

Last Wednesday I signed the contract for my new house. As I was paying the first and last month rent at the time of signing, I took out 1100 dollars and played around with the notes before handing them to my landlady.

Signing the contract!

Now if this ain't gangsta I dunno what is

Charming innit? 

The Giant Sand Castle

If you have one and-a-half hour to spend in Barcelona, what are you gonna see? I opted for the Sagrada Familia - Gaudi's mega project, still under construction after 90 years.

Now this thing is weird. It looks like some giant sand castle made by some overenthousiastic wonder kid.


Still under construction - the whole thing is full of strange elements like the fruity colored bulbs on top of the left wing arches (click to zoom).

The tower looks more like a minaret than a church tower.


Now what is this thing? This looks like some Stalinist thing in a dodgy ex-Soviet republic.


From the distance the thing makes more sense. And you can't really say it's ugly anyway.

Kickin' it up in Gent

Through the Netherlands flows the great Rhine delta, splitting the country in the northern, Calvinist, part and the southern, Catholic part. This line is a dividing line in more ways than one. People south of the rivers are just, well, different. The accent is just one of the ways this expresses itself. Prime example is the carnaval. The south of the country completely shuts down for a week in February, while in the north it really seems absolutely nothing is happening (which mostly is the case, actually)

View from the VIP stage

However, south of the south of the Netherlands is another dividing line. It's called the Belgian border. The Belgians are often the butt of Dutch jokes (how many Belgians does it take to screw in a light bulb?) but I have a weak spot for them. Their accent is cute. And as long as you're not working with them, they are very nice people. Much more polite and considerate than the potato farmers in the north.

Gent has canals as well

Last July I went to Gent (Ghent) to attend the 'Gentse Feesten', or Ghent Parties. The whole city centre is transformed into one big party ground, with stages and performances on literally every square. On invitation of one of my Belgian colleagues me and a mate of mine went down to Gent to see what the fuss was about and down a pint or two.

The Pole Pole stage at night

Arriving at the Gent Parties, I got VIP tickets to the Pole Pole stage (thanks Johan!) and took in the atmosphere. Gent is very beautiful, I have to admit I underestimated the place. Apart from the magnificent scenery, it was a real party. Real in the sense of a genuine party vibe going on, without any of the agressiveness and fake-heartedness that usually accompanies these kind of events in the north.

Flemish logic/humor on a sign indicating a handicapped parking spot: "If you take my parking spot, take my handicap as well!"

Even though I'd never want to live there, I can only say that the northern clay munchers have definately something to learn from our southern neighbours.

The Skies over Holland

The skies over Holland are an ancient favourite of painters, photographers and cloud-staring hippies. And, with reason. I have to admit that, even though I hate the place to my guts, there isn't a single place in the world with more beautiful skies than Holland. The Dutch (or 'Hollandish' would be the adjective here) skies seem higher, larger and with more depth.

Some nice examples:

Kenaustraat


Raaks construction site (former Vestestraat pictured)


Sunset from my window


Sunset over Raaks terrain


Kleverlaan, rainy afternoon


KPN Tower from KPN Lake


Sunset over the former Ripperda cavalry barracks


Another sunset from my window, somewhere in '06


Sunrise from my window


Early evening 7/8 from my window

Giant Psycho Turtle

This is some random snippit from the MSW forum, I'm posting it here because it displays what I find funny and most people don't:

- I see your point, but I'll be coming disguised as a giant turtle, until I'm convinced it's safe and there are no psychos or murderers among you.

- a good psycho always waits until everyone feels safe and are drinking in the evening then picks em off one by one as they go to bed / toilet,etc. it makes it far easier and more satisfying the other approach is as we say in the psycho trade..doing a columbine

- Sorry, I'm definitely not coming now. You hear about these things in the news. One minute an innocent surfing trip, the next I'm being gang banged by seventeen fat pagan women with swastika tattoos

Show off stuff

As you all know, whenever there's something like a World Exhibition, a Football World Championship or Olympics, countries try to go the extra mile when it comes to building their prospective cities of the so-called future.

This is the Estaçaõ do Oriente in Lisboa, Portugal. It was built for the 1998 World Exhibition. Even though I'm no fan of contemporary architecture I like this one.

Goin' Kitch in Kiev

Couple of weeks ago in Kiev I was again sorta amazed at the Slavic preferences in terms of colours and the general display of flashyness or impersonated wealth. Personally I think this tendency has its roots in the Eastern Orthodox church, as the churches are the worst of all when it comes to the excessive use of gold, bright colours and decorative thingamajigs.

Kiev is a cool place however with lots to see and a pack of cigarettes costing only 0.60 euros - even cheaper than Georgia. Hotels are very reasonably priced and mostly up to western standards. Transportation is cheap, beer is cheap, woman are cheap. What else could you possibly want.

LA Marathon

Recently, another edition of the LA Marathon was held, finishing on Flower St. in downtown LA. The winner was, as always, a really skinny African dude. First shot is of the finish line, the second taken from some elevated walkway encircling a building. I like the two shots cause there's a lot to see in both. But also just because it shows a level of urbanization almost unheard of in Europe.

The finish

Free space blankets for every runner

(It Sucks Being a Smoker) in Ireland

It really sucks being a smoker in Ireland. A pack of 20 ..eeh.. 19 is no less than 7,45 European Union Credits. But unlike what, for example, the Dutch government is trying to do, the Irish do allow capitalizing on the effects of the ban. Almost every bar, cafe or restaurant has some sort of semi-enclosed area (complete with heaters) where smoking is allowed, pushing the limit of the definition of "outside" in the law - whatever that may be.

The good part is of course that the ban doesn't really hit you until you get to a small pub. But it also sparks some curious advertising, like this one at the airport:

Kinda peculiar, hey? Especially considering that these ads don't actually encourage you to stop with smoking, ie nicotine addiction... I have tried nicotine gum on long-haul flights, and trust me, it doesn't work. If you just don't smoke you go through craving once and then enter some vegetative state. When using nicotine gum, you experience the nicotine withdrawal over and over again, which doesn't really do you any good, considering you're already crammed up in an aluminium tube at the mercy of the airline, in a center seat, with probably a big and/or fat person having the chair next to you (why does that always happen to me?). So don't do it.

Anyway, it's not all bad in Ireland - Dublin is actually a very nice city (largest population in the world wearing sweatpants and trainers on weekdays) with some stuff to see, and generally nice people (prepare to booze up). It sucks being a smoker there, but otherwise I like the place - hence the brackets.

The picture on the left was something written on a wall on Lower Rathmines Rd. It's probably a reference to a song I don't know.

The Dude in the Kitchen

Back in May '07, I visited a friend of mine who moved from Holland to Georgia 5 months earlier. At the time he was living in a not-so-chique typical run-down Soviet style apartment on Tamarashvili, a busy street in Saburtalo (a district of Tbilisi). There were more needles than people on the street there. But as usual in the Georgian capital, it was a rather relaxed scene and the junkies didn't pop out until after nightfall.

In that crappy apartment, in a run-down and patched-up Georgian kitchen stood an Orsk. A What? An Orsk. An old Soviet brand of refrigerators. My friend told me when he first moved in, it creeped him out as the thing seemed to come alive at night. The thing in that kitchen must have been at least 30 years old. But it worked.



In fact, it did more than that. The thing seemed to be alive. It made noises, it moved around a bit and it experienced mood swings (especially after a power cut). Sitting outside on the balcony, you would hear some sort of grunting sound coming from the kitchen. Checking up the thing seemed to have moved a few centimetres.

Orsk was also an insomniac. In the middle of the night, he could make a little jump up in the air and shake. The shaking movement was felt throughout the apartment, transported by the Soviet-quality wooden floors.

In any case, the darn thing was quickly named "the dude in the kitchen".