100% blonde

Quarantine

in order to remember: 

my quarantine has been started 18/02 when I went to the hospital for a knee reconstruction. Then operation -> then being stuck in bed and working from bed -> 1 month + staying at home and jumping to toilet on crunches 

Getting to the shower, taking shower on a plastic chair covering metallic construction with plastic and towel, getting out of the shower ... with help of Lasha...

If I would know what I need to go through... I may reconsider the need of operation in general. 2mths+ everything looks much better than at the moment. At least for now I still need to do months of rehabilitation, but Patagonia and Kilimanjaro worth it. 

So by now ... I really feed up with quarantine... I am just working / working... 

From entertainment list: sex and cooking. Who would tell me I would prepare chicken teriyaki, meatballs and home made diet ice cream in one day... What's a Saturday! Sometimes I am very bored ... but still have no energy for long "wish list" [NLP reading, meditation ...]

I want to plan big ... like before ... sailing in Antarctica, interview for Clipper, or dress-code for Burning Man... now... nothing big ... 

maximum I can imagine — renovation of recently bought apartment and... probably that's all..

where it's all gone: plan to climb Kilimanjaro... do Clipper race and cross all oceans in sailing boat... go to India for 10 days silent meditation ... is it all gone? Am I getting old or just happier in daily routine life? Am I?..

dot.dot.dot


100% blonde

Where is your home, babe ?

Where is your home, babe?

Once I’ve been told by a gypsy I am a wanderer... I didn't believe, just laughed back as at this moment I had 4 countries visited and I moved all (=2) my suitcases back to the home land with a plan to re-establish my life in Moscow after a year of free ride in France.
Only now I understood I always will be a nomad in my restless heart: 42 countries in my “I saw it LIVE” list, going to Antarctica in a week with a plan to leave London for good. But lets start from the beginning…

I was born in Saratov, Russia. If you’re not Russian you need to google it (even if you're Russian, you probably also need to check maps) in order to understand where is it. When foreigners were asking me where is my home city, I was struggling to explain… no it’s not Siberia… no it’s not by the sea… then I just gave up and ended up with 2 answers: Saint Petersburg (where my dad is living) or Russian city 2hrs flights from Moscow, which is true.

My first international travel happened when I was 13 or around it. I didn't travel further than 100km from my home city before. It was a school trip, with no one from my school though. Taking the train to Belorussia, then bus through all Europe, I ended up in Paris. I dont remember much. First 3 days I had a horrible poisoning, visiting two clinics in Poland or was it in Czech Republic (?) with unknown teachers deciding on my fate - shall we send her back or continue. Probably no one wants to leave the dream trip and accompany me back home, so it was decided we will keep going. From those days, I remember only last seats in a bus and driver who was by my side when bus was not moving. By the time we arrived to Paris I was back to real world -3kg (but who is fucking counting kilos when you're 13!) I dont remember Paris… just few highlights… Montmartre under the rain and Sacre Coeur, horror room in Disneyland and gifts that I brought with me including presents for myself - gold ring with garnet, soft toy dalmatian and photos from Disneyland… That’s a nice mix of being a little girl and a young woman, when you’re 13 everything is possible)
Ask this kid with short haircut, wearing first and last jeans in my life & blue pullover with big blue eyes looking around: Can you imagine babe that one day you will live in this city, one day you will leave this city for better life (actually you will leave this city twice), one day you will write this chapter in your own flat in Le Marais. The best in life - you dont know what’s next. The worst in life - you dont know whats next.

Home…

I am feeling I am at home on the street of Paris, actually here I have walls and ceilings belong to me, mortgage and 5 years of relationships in anamnesis with the city of love. But only in Paris I realised home is nothing to do with real estate.

I am feeling I am at home when passing the immigration and passports control control in Heathrow after my another flight they are saying “Welcome home, ma’am”. After 8 years of paying high taxes, i believe I truly deserved this. And to say the truth Chelsea and City were not the worst places on Earth, I just grew up and need something bigger than white-collar workers crowd full of bankers and lawyers at Liverpool Pool street station or their wives drinking tea and doing yoga from 10-17 at Sloane square.

I am feeling home (from time to time) when I am in Moscow because of people, long conversations accompanied by vodka & herrings or tea ceremonies if your friend is out of “drinking process” due to pregnancy… I am feeling home sometimes in St Petersburg. I can walk in my home city and watch like a movie about something which is gone for ever… same buildings, same streets, same monuments, just 18 years older, but I don’t belong here anymore, just my memories are catching me quickly.

I am feeling home at Burning man because of freedom, sunrises, music and love that I felt, because I cried when I met and completely lost myself there.
I am feeling home now in Tbilisi, disregarding that I know this city only for 4 months… Because I allowed myself to fall in love, because my heart was broken, because in few months I met people who I will try to keep for life no matter what, because of wine, food or mountains?

But if someone asks me now “where is your home?” I have no answer. Everywhere and nowhere. My answer varies from “Saratov” if i am talking with Georgian taxi driver to “London” if I am discussing potential investments or “Paris” if it’s about shoes. I am lying and saying the truth simultaneously.

Sometimes I am jealous to people with high level of patriotism and nationalism, who knows that his body and heart belong to this particular land. I don’t have it neither to my “county of origin” or country which gave me a green light and “right” shade of red colour of the passport. My citizenships mean less hassle while travelling, expanding list of countries with no visa needed entry. I don’t want to die for land (and truly against a war, any wars). I don’t want to fight for someone’s future, that’s why politics is out of scope of my interests. Maybe it will change in the future, when it will be a time to give a birth, to plant a tree and build a house with fireplace. Maybe it will be in another country, maybe it will never happened. It gives a lot of freedom but at a higher price.
100% blonde

(no subject)

At the most lowest moments of my heart and spirit I am watching movies about war... and I am trying to understand where Jewish found so much strengths to go through it: to suffer pain and humiliation, to bury children and to be betrayed by so called friends and ... stay strong or just stay... with an incredible sadness and dedication they are continuously were going forward
Did they know something which is still not clear for me?.. what?
Or all those questions about existence and purpose are bullshit in the absence of real life problems?..

Budapest, 2.30am; waiting for the breakfast before seeing a client. Looking from the window of the French hotel branch - Sofitel on the Main Street and seeing *working girls*, and again can't understand why my heart is not in peace

God, bless us all, ищущих и страждающих
100% blonde

Сосед по Eurostar, а что у тебя внутри?..

Самое страшно, что кто-то проберется в душу и узнаёт, кто ты...

Но в этом и есть самое прекрасное, иначе все пустое - друзья на лето, любовники на ночи, мужья до новых горизонтов

Самое удивительно, никто не старается показывать своё "нутро"... то ли чёрное, то ли пусто

А ведь в каждой "твари" что-то должно быть, иначе к чему все это

Живет человек... живет... пашет & плодится & встаёт и ложится & смеётся и голодает, печалится и зубы чистит каждый день... а нутра нет... должен же быть во всем этом хоть какой-то смысл, кроме "умер Максим, да и хер с ним"... а Максим?

100% blonde

В мире удивительного

Постаралась посчитать количество аэропортов за последние 3 дня:

Сиэтл / Ванкувер / Лондон (x2) / Прага (х2) / Любляна / Тирана

Видимо от их количества, недосыпа и эмоционального переутомления организм приказал долго жить, так я познакомилась с "family doctor" и чешскими антибиотиками

А удивительно то, что мужик, который любит и взаимно любим до дрожи в коленках, после 5 дней бешеного секса не нашёл времени меня набрать и спросить, как мое самочувствие...

А другой мужик, нецелованный, мечта Балкан, отправляет водителя в Албанию, чтобы привезти меня в Черногорию к друзьям... вот и удивляйся после этого