tysolna: (swordwoman)
I seriously wonder why, after a great day spent at a medieval fair, tired and happy, I am foolish enough to drink a cup of coffee at nine in the evening.
Oh, the fair was brilliant, thanks for asking. I was there with a friend *waves*; oh and sorry N. for not being able to play Rigoletto for you.
The usual suspects showed up at the fair, sadly minus the tent where they sell musical instruments, and we ate, drank, watched comic fencers from the Czech Republic, listened to medieval rock bagpipe music, saved princesses (well, one of us did, anyway), and had a pact with a weather goddess. It was raining when we arrived, then stopped, and started again when we left.
I bought myself some handmade soap, the best pepper mix I've ever found, and a book about medieval clothing. I've decided I will make some of the clothes myself, since the prices at these fairs are simply too expensive for me, and the fit is never really right anyway. But don't worry, I will give black velvet a wide berth.
And then I came home, and was tired, so I had said cup of coffee at nine o'clock or thereabouts. It's now past one, and while I am still happy, I can't fall asleep. I'm having a nightcap and hoping it will work. Otherwise, I'll start meditating, or read a book - that sometimes helps - and if all else fails, I will count sheep.

tysolna: (up yours)
The thing about feeling light under Czech skies is that when I get back home, I feel like my head's stuck in a bell jar for a couple of days before I readjust to the slightly higher athmospheric pressure. This, of course, results in me not being completely awake during the day, not falling asleep lightly in the evening, and getting up on the wrong side of the bed in the morning. It's only an hour's change with summer time, but I feel as if I have jet lag.
Thanks to that, I had a day of rows yesterday, first with dad, then with mum, then with a good friend. Two of the three I was by now able to clear up, and all of them were down to misunderstandings, as per usual.

The good news is that my dad finally relented: We're going to get DSL in a couple of weeks and internet flatrate with that. No more counting the minutes crawling around the net for me, hooray! Now all I need is to get a new email addy and inform everyone.

The next good news is that [livejournal.com profile] manchester_red will be here in a mere three days. Which on the other hand means that I have only a mere three days to clean up my place and do some shopping.

I honestly couldn't give a monkey's about bird flu; what I do feel is a slight (ok, more than slight) tinge of Family Pride that my mum's cousin Milan Malena, whom I've known for years - and have seen slightly inebriated at more than one family gathering - he of the booming voice, many jokes, and who is national veterinary management director of the Czech Republic, is currently in the news a lot, both nationally and internationally, both print and TV, because the first case of bird flu has been found in the Czech Republic, near Hluboka nad Vltavou, where I have been driving past the day before yesterday. They have a pretty castle there, and a very nice restaurant. It is a weird feeling when people and places you've known all your life are suddenly in the news.
Even though I have to chuckle at the way Milan is holding his wineglass. God but that's so typical!
tysolna: (Default)
I'm away for a week, visiting my family in the Czech Republic.
All my bags are already packed, which is weird, as I am usually a last-minute packer. I even have all my current favourite music on my little mp3 player, one chip full of strange rock music, one full of classical mixtures (Verdi, Wirén, Borodin, Wilms, Korngold, and P.D.Q. Bach), the batteries of all the appropriate devices - the mp3 player, mobile phone, and digital camera - are full up, and my mind is already thinking in Czech.

Anyway, this thing is closed for a week. Take care, and cya later! :)
tysolna: (starhair)
Ah, yes. Did I mention it's snowing again? Mmm, what a lovely springtime!

But enough complaining. It is fun when I can open my snowed-in bedroom window, grab a handful of snow from the roof and throw snowballs at the unsuspecting outside. And this winter, I've been able to do it more often than ever before!

I just hope the weather clears up in a week, because mum and I will be driving to visit my family in the Czech Republic, and I don't much fancy driving under hazardous conditions. We'll be gone from the 18th to the 25th, and I will be taking my camera with me this time around.

While I was walking through the city, I had the feeling that somebody was watching me from the top of a ten-storey building. I don't much like being watched, so I went inside to ask why whoever it was was watching me.
Inside the building, it was dark - the lights were not working correctly; it smelled of raw concrete walls and damp. There was an elevator in the middle of the stairwell, which not only had a bright light in it, but also maroon velvet covering around the inside. Despite its appearance, it refused to take me all the way to the top, which meant that I had to climb the rest of the way over half-built steps and rickety scaffolding in the flickering lights. Occasionally, I came past a window, which gave me a beautiful view of blue skies and birds flying past. I was obviously higher up than I thought, and much higher than the building had appeared from the outside.
Finally, I arrived at the top floor and found myself in a hallway opposite an ordinary grey door, which was not even locked. The rooms behind looked lived-in, though the furniture was old and shabby and put together as if from a flea market, with the occasional antique gleaming in a corner.
Walking through the rooms, I noticed that someone was trying to get my attention. Maybe now I would find out who had been watching me.
I turned around and saw myself in a mirror.
Then I woke up.

So, friend Freud, what do you make of that, then?
tysolna: (Default)
You'd suppose that, given that I have been to London uncountable times, that I would know where that Swiss Cottage is. I think it's around Leicester Square somewhere, but I am not 100% sure. Never mind, Leicester Square we'll go to anyway, and I'll act as if I knew it'd be there if it is; if it isn't, I won't even mention it.
Itinerary includes: the Victoria & Albert Museum, with a quick look into the Natural History; Shakespeare's Globe; Hyde Park; Tower of London (maybe); a bus tour through London; Baker Street; Oxford Street;I might slip in a theatre evening; and for shopping purposes, Forbidden Planet, various bookshops, and Lush.

Cya on Saturday!

PS: At this moment in time, I still have to pack... but since we're starting the journey in seven hours, I still have time. In seven hours it will be four in the morning. Who needs sleep, anyway?

Edit: All I can say is that a friend of mine from London used to call that building the Swiss Cottage, and it was near a square in a Theatre district... If I see him, I'll kick his butt for making me look stupid. :-D
tysolna: (Default)
For all the curious people, here's what I did from Thursday, September 27, til Tuesday, October 4th, on my trip to the Czech Republic.

Cut for length. It is long. )
tysolna: (Default)
Back from a lot of driving, a lot of partying, a lot of meeting family again, a lot of speaking czech, a lot of not-caring-about-a-diet, and a lot of fun. Whee!
The instant I was back home after driving all day (and getting into an unholy amount of traffic jams in Bavaria), I had to grab my violin and go to rehearsals, as we're playing a gig on Saturday.
So, pictures and more detailed updates will have to wait until matters calm down a bit.
However, one thing's for sure: Among the many things I inherited from my dad is a love of driving, of travelling. He's just got a few decades more experience.
tysolna: (Default)
I'm at the workplace, waiting for the girl at the photocopier to finish, so I can copy some stuff and get out of here to get myself my sorely needed second cup of coffee for the day. Next to me lie a baker's dozen of chestnuts, one of which fell on my head earlier. I don't know what I'll do with them, only they look so pretty I can't let them be run over. At the very least, they'll give our cat something to play with. Ah, autumn.

Over coffee, I will try to memorize the route I will be driving on Thursday. A combination of me having to work and mum wanting to have her car in the Czech Republic has changed our collective plan for the trip to celebrate mum's birthday: Mum and dad will start the trip early morning on Wednesday, while I'll head off after work on Thursday. They will return a week later, I will probably be here a day or two earlier.
The fun thing about this will be driving long stretches by myself, music on the car stereo, stopping when and where I want to stop. I admit I have a slight feeling of hesitation about this, but this should be a piece of cake to someone who's driven through London by herself, and through Los Angeles, San Fransisco, and Vancouver.

Next week Saturday, my band will be playing a gig, the first one with the new guitarist. One more reason I want to be back sooner, so I can practice some more. I'm slightly nervous about this gig, since we're far from perfect at the moment. I'm also annoyed by the bad timing, since the Nabucco premiere will be on the same day, and I was looking forward to seeing that. But, we have only the one gig, and Nabucco will be playing more often (though it looks to be an... interesting production, from what I hear).

Ah, the photocopier girl is done. That's me off, then.


tysolna: (Default)

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