Blonde Mafia Ganja Island

Istun Lissabonis hosteli retseptsioonis asuvas arvutinurgas. Imelik on sellises ymbruses (ha ha otsisin t2ppidega u�d) ennast avada ja kirjutades m6tetesse vajuda. Klaviatuur kl6biseb nii tugevalt nagu viskaks killustikku vastu aknaid.
Minu k6rval yx ilus tumedama nahatooniga tydruk kirjutab ingliskeeles. Ei vea tal, iga m66duja k2ib kindlasti j6ledalt n2rvi oma piilumisega. Minul on t2iesti savi, enamus m6tleb et ma joonistan mingit sarvedega madu-ussi mitte ei kirjuta eksisteerivas keeles.

Viimasel ajal olen j2lle hakanud inimesi kohtama ja veider on kyll niimoodi. Peale neid m66dunud aastaid j2lle sellises olukorras olla. Ja kuidas ma ise ja mu m6tted oleme muutunud. Nyyd ma ytlen ikka v2ga enesekindlalt, et jah Eestist olen, sa ei teagi seda kohta v6i. Aga Skype ja Paypali kasutad nagu nalja.
Aga teisest kyljest on j2rjest veidram 6elda, et jah meid on 1 miljon seal kaugel maal. Olen ju nii palju aega veetnud nyyd Brasiillastega. K6ik need miljonid mis neid on igas linnas. Me oleme nii tyhised selle k6rval. Neil on 20 miljonit kodutut, n2ljast inimest. Meil on Muhus yks trimpav vanamees, kes elab R2ssa kyla sildi juurest edasi s6ites selle suure kivi taga oma katkises treileris.
Proportsionaalselt t2iesti mitte midagi. Aga keda need proportsioonid huvitavad. Sellised juhul v6ib 6elda, et mina olen ka maailma yx k6ige 6nnelikemaid inimesi. Mis mul k6ik on eksole.
Aga n2e ma ei ole. Pole nii sitas olukorras enne olnudki kui see mis just mind 6nnistas juuni saabudes.
See on jube veider kuidas tuleb v2lja selgelt et inimese kogu maailm ei ole mitte tema ymber, vaid tema peas. Sest yhel p2ewal sa kujutad, mis siis et ehk tiba h2guselt, ette peaaegu k6ike, mis sa j2rgneval aastal ja aastakymnel teed ja kellega ja kuidas ja mis siis saab ja kui rahul sa oled ja kui 6nnelik ja kuidas k6ik voolab nagu oja meil kloogal rahulikult l2bi aia. Ja siis korraga. Yhe p2ewaga. Pole mitte midagi. Mingi imelik sinine teadmatus. T2ielik kylm selline sinine mitte midagi on tulevik.
Ja k6ik milles sa elanud oled, kogu su elu. Seda polegi enam.
Noh ja siis 66seti p6gened 2ra unes ja elad veel selles vanas kindlas maailmas, aga iga kord kui 2rkad on 6udne shokk.
Siis ma yritasin oma valu igast vahenditega 2ra v6tta. Sain MB�iga kokku ja ytlesin talle et nyyd ostad mulle tequila shot�e. Ja ta vaguralt vaatas kuidas ma j6in ja tellisin juurde ja j6in ja tellisin juurde. Ja muudkui maksis. Ma ei tunne halvasti ka ennast selle p2rast. Las maksis, ykski summa ei pleki kinni seda valu, mis ta mulle t6i. Ja ma vaatasin ta silmi ja tundsin kuidas k6ik mida ma tahan on seal olemas. K6ik. Aga see ei kuulu mulle. V6ibolla see ei kuulugi kellelegi, sest ta on nii rikutud ja ta ei suuda kedagi kunagi ausalt ja lihtsalt armastada. Aga nii hea oli juua, issand kui hea. Ja ma koorisin j2rjest riideid v2hemaks ja n2gin kuidas ta silmad j2rjest rohkem mind seirasid. Ma tundsin kuidas ma tahan ta hulluks ajada. Ja kui lihtne see on. Sest ta ongi mu j2rele hull. Nii hull kui ta suudab olla yhe naise j2rele.
Kaks n2dalat ma elasin t2ielikus teadmatuses. Selles sinises. M kysis ka pidevalt, et mis ma nyyd edasi teen. Ja ma ei teadnud. Ma ei tahtnud mitte midagi. Ma tahtsin et elu l6ppeks 2ra. Sellep2rast et suhe suhteks aga ma kaotasin t2iesti usu, et inimesi saab usaldada. Mehi v6i naisi. M6lemad on sama hullud. Inimestel pole enam v22rtushinnaguid, moraale. Enamus 6ppivad noored keda kohtad, nad on nii tyhjad. Ja nii odavad. Mitte mingit salap2ra pole, midagi pole avastada. Jutuajamised on k6ik nagu yhe vitsaga l66dud. Vahest kui veab r22gid m6ne, tydrukuga n2iteks, kellel on iseloomu ja huumorisoont. Ja leiad jututeema. Aga l6puks ikka avastad, et nad ei pyydle millegi p6neva poole. Oh theres this brazilian guy i like, do you know any dirty sentences in portuguese. Ah mine kukele.
Me k6ik oleme ju sellised. Me elame selle seksuaalsuse p2rast, aga aastatega hakkad seda nagu purki toppima ja muid purke avama. Haha meenus kui MS ytles mulle kunagi Eestis yhe tyybi kohta, kelle puhul ta arvas et ei meeldi talle, et Cesarel j2id kurgid purki. Ja tal oli s6ber, kellega mina semmisin, Salvatore. Ja siis me naersime et salvesti kurgid. Oh aegu l6busaid. Ja n2e kui selgelt n2itab - me oleme k6ik sarnased.
Aga ma kaotasin usu ja ma tundsin et kui me olemegi k6ik ainult sellised ja elu ainult see ongi, siis mina ei taha seda elu enam.
Siis ma kolisin n2dalaks D juurde. Sellest ma pean pikemalt r22kima. Ta on h2sti p6nevast perekonnast. Ta ema on prantslanna ja isa on sakslane. Nyyd ta 6pib Berliinis ja tuli Portosse Erasmust tegema. Ta oli eelmine aasta olnud jube masenduses. Ytles, et istus Saksamaal metroos ja tundis meeletut paanikat ja hirmu, et k6ik inimesed tema ymber teavad t2pselt mida nad oma eluga plaanivad teha, aga ainult tema, yksinda kogu maailmas, ei tea. Ja ta oli just ylikooli l2inud ja tihti siis tuntakse, et on raske ja ei tea kas 6pitav aine on ikka see 6ige. Mul seda ei olnud. Ma olin nii konsentreeritud sellele, et l2hen Erasmusega Itaaliasse, et ma oleks sillaehitust ka 6ppinud. Ja P�ga oli meil nii vahva. Naersime iga p2ew igas loengus. Meil oli nii tore. Ma igatsen seda aastat P�ga meeletult taga.
Aga D l2ks siis psyhholoogi juurde, kes oli selline veidi sensitiivi laadne ka. Ja see ytles talle, et su elu on nagu tasane tiik, aga sul on vaja laineid. Ja siis D l2ks Portosse ja kohtas oma boyfriendi A�d, kes on surfi-6petaja. :D Ja nyyd D surfab iga p2ew ja m6tleb pidevalt ainult lainetele.
D korter on megalahe. T2pselt rannapromenaadil. Ma panen pilte ka siia vahele yx moment. Ja kui ma sisse astusin siis esimese asjana vaatas vastu t2pselt selline uksematt mis meil Kadaka pst oli. Ma ei tea kuidas see v6imalik on. Ma poleks muidu elusees osanud 6elda milline uksematt meil oli, kui ma kuuene olin, aga nyyd kohe kui ma seda n2gin, ma teadsin et selline ta oli.
Ja siis teiseks, trepp kahe korruse vahel oli ka t2pselt Kadaka pst trepp. Nii nii meeldis see. D v6ttis tavaliselt pl2tud jalast 2ra ja l2ks paljajalu yles, et seda tumedat rasket puitu jalge all tunda. Ma tundsin iga kord alla minnes kuidas tahaks istuda ja tagumiku peal p6nts p6nts p6nts alla lasta nagu vanasti Kadaka puiesteel.


paar p2ewa hiljem


Okay olen j2lle siin retseptsioonis ja r2me palav on. N2dal aega on 35 kraadi olnud ja siuke l2mbe kuumus. Tuuline on kyll, nagu alati Portugalis, aga tuul on selline palav leitsak.
Nii, lezzgo.
Nad m2ngivad siin pidevalt muusikat retseptsioonis ja all sise6ues. Head muusikat. Aia eest hoolitseb yks saksa poiss K. Ta on j2tab t6elise hipimulje. Pikad juuksed patsis ja sellised leebed sinised silmad, tennarid jalas ja biitseptsi peale on K tatoveeritud. Aga mida rohkem ma teda tundma 6pin seda rohkem ma taipan, et ta on p2ris pragmaatilise m6tlemisega. N2iteks ta t66tas kuus kuud l6una Portugalis orgaanilises farmis, tegi aiat6id ja elas telgis, aga tal oli macbook kaasas. :D
T2na peale t66d me l2ksime parki istuma. Mina, Uus Meremaa tydruk KS ja siis K. Kolleegid kolmekesi. KS vehib ka voodeid teha nagu mina. Vastutasuks me saame tasuta siin 66bida ja hommikus66ki syya ja iga shiftiga saame tasuta 6lle. Muul ajal peame pudeli eest 30 senti maksma. Mis on p2ris sweet. KS ytleb alati sweet as. Nii et praegu tahtsin ka v2gisi sweeeet aaaaaas kirjutada. Aga alati peab t2helepanelik olema, et ma s�i liiga tugevalt ei ytle.
Ja siis K ytles, et ta r22kis vanematega, helistas. Ja et ta isa k2ib rattaga s6itmas ja oli 6elnud, et peab kindad v2lja otsima, sest Saksamaal l2ks jube kylmaks. Ja siis me k6ik pyhkisime higi juuksepiirilt ja yritasime mida kaastundlikku leida, mida 6elda, aga ei leidnud. :D R6ve sitt palav. Aluspyksid on m2rjad kogu aeg.
K on muidu 33 juba. Ta ytles, et oli 9 aastane kui Berliini myyr langes. No mina syndisin siis. Aga K on k6vasti reisinud. Elanud mitmel pool. H2sti lahe on see, et ta on igalpool k2inud, aga kunagi ei maini seda v6i ei uhkusta nagu enamus reisijaid. T2na ma koristasin ta tuba ja tal ripuvad lambi kyljes v2ikesed india elevandid ja laua peal oli megasuur karp cocoa butterit.
Ma alati m6tlen, et ta meeldiks WonderWomanile. Ta sobiks meiega kokku. Kuidagi sama v2limus ja olek ja k6ik. Yks 6htu ma l2xin tema ja ta s6braga Saksamaalt ja s6brannaga Rootsist v2lja.
L2xime istusime baaris mille nimi on Casa Independente. Ma tahan sinna kindlasti veel minna. Rootsi tydruk r22kis et Rootsis on k6ige moodsam sisustusstiil praegu Shabby Chic. Noh nagu Eestiski, kulunud restaureeritud m66bel ja siuke fancy v2rk aga k6ik on nagu miljon aastat vana. :D See koht oli samasugune ja 6udselt kena. Pearuum oli laest avatud 6ue, peakohal rippusid metsikud viinamarjad. Ja siis terve ruum on puust laudadega mille peal p6levad klaaspurkides kyynlad ja siis m66bel on siuke erinevad restaureeritud tugitoolid ja. V2ga kena. Ja teises ruumis oli DJ, kes oli sysimusta nahaga megailus peenike, suure juuksepahmakaga neegritydruk punases kleidis. Ja selja taga oli tal selline tapeet, millel oli hiiglasuur tiigripilt. Ja ta m2ngis sellist l6busat aafrika muusikat. Ma yritasin tantsida, aga ma ei osanud eriti. Sellised ehtsad rastajuustega vanad neegrimehed tantsisid niimoodi et jalad h2sti harkis, peaaegu ei liigutanud, ainult selja tegid k6veraks ja siis 2hkisid, silmad kinni ja liigutasid k2si nagu yritax kassi eemale ehmatada. Okei see kirjeldus oli p2ris jube praegu :D Aga tegelt t2iega lahe oli. Nad tunnetasid biiti t2ielikult.

Ma l2xin vahepeal v2ikse r6du peale 6hku hingama, sest ma ei suutnud teiste l6busa tujuga kaasa minna ja r66msalt tantsida. MB�le m6tlemine ajas pisara silma. Ja siis JK tuli ka korra seisis mu k6rvale. Ja ma ytlesin K�le, et ma olen t2iega segaduses, et mis elu on ja mida me sellega tegema peaksime. Ja ta ytles, et elu on ilus asi. Raske, aga alati on ilus. Ja et ta kirjutab vahest kuskile p66saste vahel istudes luuletusi, ja kohe on parem. Ja ta ytles et seda nii lihtsalt ja m66daminnes, et ma m6tlesin et n2e tema jaoks on see sama tavaline kui meie jaoks.
Ja siis ta n2itas yhe v2li -WC poole, siuke plastmassist ja mingi muster oli peale pressitud. Ja ta ytles et n2e kas sulle ei tundu nagu see oleks k2si seal, ja silm. Ja ma m6tlesin et kui ammu ma pole kohanud selliseid inimesi. Enda inimesi.

Haha ma enne ostsin mingi alla eurose veini, ja kui me asju kylmkappi paneme, me peame oma nime peale kirjutama, muidu keegi paneb rotti. Ja ma kirjutasin Michael Jackson ja sellest kujunes mingi hiigelnali. Nyyd yx retseptsioonis t66tavatest tyypidest, Luis, kutsub mind koguaeg Michael Jacksoniks. xD
ks p2ew sakslane, D, r22kis et ta nimi on Daniel aga ta traveling name is Danny. Nii et ma v6in siis vist 6elda, et mu traveling name on Michael Jackson.

Issand mu k6rval istub yx Brasiilia tyyp ja tal on k6rvaklapid k6rvas ja ta lihtsalt laulab k6iki laule portugali keeles kaasa, aga siukse veidra peenikese h22lega nagu vana mees. Kui ma saaks lindistada ma nii lindistaks praegu. Ta m6tleb et ma kirjutan midagi v2ga l6busat sest ma muudkui n6rken ja naeran.
Ta on muidu jalgpallur, v2ravavaht, ja elab Ukrainas ja m2ngib seal. Nii et ta yritab iga p2ew venekeelt 6ppida. Meil siin hostelis koristaja on Venelanna, Inna, Moskvast, ta on 6udselt tore tegelikult. Abivalmis ja huvitav naine. Ja siis Brasiillane ajab teda taga ja kirjutab hariliku pliiatsiga pyydlikult kirillitsat paberi peale. T2na ma kuulsin kuidas ta korrutas malako vaikselt nina alla, kui ma k66gis omletti tegin.
Ja hiljem ma kysisin et kas ta halbu s6nu ka teab, aga Inna oli seal ja siis tyyp ytles et ei, ta pole huvitatud. Ja ma ytlesin et nojah v2ga hea. Ja siis Inna l2ks 2ra ja Brasiillane p66ras mu poole ja ytles n2ost s2rades: suka.
:D


Ma pole nyyd mingi kuu aega eesti keelt yldse r22kinud, kirjutades ongi ainuke v6imalus praegu. Tunnen et lauseehitus longab jubedalt.
See on alati niimoodi, et kui oled kuskil linnas ja elad seal, siis muust ei r22gita kui sellest, kuidas sa pead ikka keele 2ra 6ppima. Pidevalt on pinge. Portos oli v2ga tugev see pinge. Eriti kuna t66 oli k6ik kohalikega, siis pidin koguaeg uusi s6nu 6ppima ja vanu yle kontrollima 6htuti arvutist. Ja siis kolid 2ra yhel p2ewal t2itsa poolkogemata ja samal p2ewal kaob kogu m6te enam yldse midagi 6ppida selles keeles. Nii tobe.

Muidugi v6iks ja oleks tark j2tkata 6pinguid, aga alati pole aega. Ja vahest l2hed yldse teist keelt k6nelevasse kohta ja siis seal hakatakse r22kima et oi sa pead keele 2ra 6ppima.
K6ik v6tavad asju alati kuidagi nii j22valt. Nyyd pead k6iki meie vanas6nu teadma, sest sa j22d siia kuni surmani ja su ...mis seal matustel on, missa? :D Et see on kindlasti nende keeles. Mitte et see mulle midagi t2hendaks, ma m6tleks t6en2oliselt paaniliselt oma kirstus, et MA OLEN ELUS OMFG MA OLEN ELUS MIKS MA PARALISEERITUD OLEN?!
Igatahes Lissabonis r22givad k6ik minuga v2ljas inglise keeles. Kui Portos ma pean ikka portugali keeles tellima kohvi muidu vaadatakse viltu, siis siin yldse keegi ei eelda, et ma seda oskan. Ja hostelis kogu tiim ja enamus kylastajaid on inglise keelt k6nelevatest maadest. T2itsa igatsen portugali keeles r22kimist. Nii tyytu on see ingliskeeles lausete v22namine. Eriti kui on vara hommik. Siin oli yx tore austraalia paarike. Ja ma k2isin nendega mitu korda v2ljas ja tsillisin niisama 6ltsi juues, ja siis eile hommikul nad check outisid ja nad ytlesid igast ilusaid asju ja ma olin nagu tarretist oleks suu t2is. Mitte midagi ei suutnud 6elda, ainult hehehehehe ja yeaaa yeaaaa ja siis l6puks ma ytlesin bye ja seisin nagu mingi m6mm.
Peas k2is dialoog, et kas ma ytlen have a ..nice...travel? Keep having fun? Keep...travelling fun?
Lootusetu.

Ma tunnen iga jumala p2ew, et ma PEAN kirjutama. Niipalju m6tteid on koguaeg peas. Ti2esti non stop. V6ibolla sellep2rast et ma olen yksinda. Ma ei pane enam isegi t2hele, et ma olen yksinda muideks. Koguaeg tundub, et aga ma olen ju terve hunniku inimestega. N2e seal seisab yx vanamees ja poes myyja r22kis juttu ja. Kuidas ma siis yxinda olen.
Aga tegelikult ju olen. Euroopa k6ige kaugemas nurgas. Yksinda. Roosas kleidis.
Ja siinsamas k6rval Brasiillane laulab oma vanurih22lega portugalikeeles: tantsi minuga, tantsi tantsi, magusake.

K tuli m6ttele teha T-s2rk. Me ytleme k6ik pidevalt awesome. Nagu enamik inimesi maailmas. See on lihtsalt nii hea s6na. Isegi MB�ga oli see meil yx vaidluseteemadest, sest ta ytles, et ma ytlen liiga palju awesome ja, et see on t2ielik hipis6na. Ja nyyd on nii kuidagi v2rskendav n2ha k6iki neid inimesi, kes ytlevad awesome, joovad 66sel 6lut ja naeratavad pimedas niiet hambad s2ravad.
Ja siis K ytles, et ta teeb t-s2rgi, mille peale on kirjutatud AWESOME is an amazing word.
Ja siis ta paneb sinna juurde linnupildi. Sest talle meeldivad linnud.
Ja ta muuseas tegigi t-s2rgi. Linnuga. L6ikas v2lja paberist ja siis sprei paintis. Aga ta ei kirjutanud veel awesome sinna. Nii et ma ootan huviga ja teen pilti. :D

Kevadel ema printis mulle v�lja pikaajalisemate planeetide seisu, et saada pisut aimu milliseks suvi kujuneb ja seal oli �eldud et alates maikuust tulevad mu ellu tugevamat sorti ja j�ulised inimesed ja meestuttavad on maskuliinsemad ja agressivsemad kui varem.
Ja n��d t�na l�i augusti ette ja mis ma �elda v�in on see, et mu parimad ja l�hedasemaid s�brad, kes suve jooksul on tekkinud, on k�ik j��ra m�rgist. Mis on imelik sest enne seda ma teadsin kogu oma kahek�mne eluaasta jooksul ainult �hte j��ra ja see on mu �e parim s�branna. S�branna on k�ll igati tipp-topp, aga ma m�tlesin et m i n a  k�ll �helegi j��rale p�nev ei tundu ja et see s�prus n�eks selline v�lja et mina panen kodus kingi jalga et kokku saada kui j��r on juba teisel mandril, koorib banaani ja ei m�leta et ma olemaski olen.
Praegu on mu elu tihedalt seotud kuue j��raga. :D Ja v�ga tore on ma �tlen. Kunagi ei tea mis saab, aga kui saab siis on l�bus. :D
Kuskil juuni keskel ma panin siis kodinad kokku ja s�itsin Portugali. Erilist plaani nagu polnud. �ldse polnud mingit plaani. Lootsin heale �nnele ja olin positiivsust pilgeni t�is. Ei ilma naljata, esimesed n�dalad ma l�in lihtsalt aega surnuks, aga paganas kus ma olin �nnelik. Iga hommik �rkasin suur naeratus n�ol ja tegin klaasi veini ja s�in oliive k�rvale ja siis k�ndisin tundide viisi ihu�ksinda v��rastel t�navatel ringi.
Ja samal ajal paljud inimesed �tlesid et no k�ll sul ikka veab ja sul on nii tore ja perfektne. Aga tegelikult nad ei teadvusta, et �ksi t�iesti v��ras kohas ringi tuiamine pole �ldse l�bus, kui sa selleks oma peas valmis pole. Et sa ei nuta kui sa oled p�evade viisi �ksinda ja �htul l�heb pimedaks ja sa ei tea kedagi ja oled kodust kaugel. See pole �ldse l�bus kui sa ei ole leppinud et see algul ja ehk ka kesk- ja l�pppaigas nii saab olema.
�ks �htu jalutasin h�maras kodupoole ja �udselt k�va tuul puhus ja natuke tibutas. Ja korraga n�gin kuidas �ks koer kuses majanurga peal. Ja siis ma m�tlesin et see pole mitte lihtsalt koer, vaid p o r t u g a l i  koer. Ja nii kerge ja hea ja r��mus oli olla. Siiralt r��mus tunne oli et mul oli au n�ha kusevat portugali koera.
Ega sellega ongi nii et k�ik on enda peas. Kui tahad v�ib �ks tavaline n�ssakas koer olla just see mida sa vajad et olla meeletult �nnelik. Sa pead lihtsalt nii otsustama. Arvan ma.
Ma kuulasin mingit audiobooki kus �eldi selline ilus lause et ma olen avatud k�igele heale mis universumis on ja ma t�mban seda enda poole, sest ma tean, et ma olen seda v��rt. Vot nii, seda ma arvangi. Sest miks ka mitte. Nii palju ilusaid asju on, mida tahan neid k�iki k�ll n�ha ja tunda ja r��mustada et maailm selline ilus loodi.
Eelmine n�dal ma l�ksin �htul oma t��kaaslasega kokku saama et kohvi juua. Ta on must aasta vanem L�ti poiss, kes elab siin eelmisest s�gisest saati oma portugallasest boyfriendiga. Kohtumispaigaks oli �ks stiilne kahekorruseline kohvik mu k�rvalt�navas. Peale tema ja ta boyfriendi oli seal veel ka boyfriendi ex, oma uue poisiga. K�ik superh�sti riides ja l�hnastatud, kammitud, lakitud. Ja siis mina, juuksed sassis, nina punane. Suudlesin k�iki 2 korda p�sele nagu kombeks ja no aus�na mu nahk tundus nagu voorimehe parka nende beebisiledate p�skede k�rval. Sissejuhatuseks k�sis l�tlase poiss mult kas ma tean et tal on 75 aastane v�ltstissidega blond vanaema, kes k**** nagu noor nugis. Ma �tlesin et ma aimasin. Ja ta n�itas mulle kohe moblast pilti ka ja no t�esti roogitav r�im oli. Igatepidi v�ga prink naine. Boyfriend �tles mulle et kui ta vanaemale teatas et ta on gay siis esimese asjana vants mitte ei k�sinud et miks v�i milleks, vaid K U I D A S. Nimelt kuidas kaks meest �ksteisega seksivad, sest auke j��b justkui puudu ja riistasid �le. Kui nii v�ib �elda. Ja sealt alates see jutuajamine aint sellist rada meil l�kski ja ma t�mbasin kohvi kuus korda hingetorru naerdes. Nii palju positiivsust ja optimismi ja head kuigi ��rmiselt r�past huumorit oli t�esti v�rskendav. L�tlane r��kis kuidas ta oli s�gisel teinud mingisugust vabatahtlike programmi vaimselt haigete inimestega. Ja �heks �lesandeks oli olnud ka contemporary dance. Ja ta �tles et see oli v�ga ilus ja t�esti liigutav olnud. Ja siis purskas korraga naerma ja �tles et ta paariline oli olnud ratastoolis ja siis imiteeris teda, vehkis peaga vasemale ja paremale ja tegi mingeid imelikke k��gatavaid h��li. Ja �ldjoontes ma �ldse ei armasta kui naerdakse inimeste �le kes meist teistsuguseks on loodud. Aga l�tlane ei m�elnud halba vaid t�esti tahtis n�idata millise persooniga tegu oli. Ja et �hes�naga olid siis tantsinud ja �heks liigutuseks oli olnud k�te kokkup�imine ja siis nii et tema poeb teise k�te alt l�bi ja niimoodi saab vabaks. Ainult et vaene ratastoolis k��gutaja t�mbas tal �la paigast v�lja. Ja l�tlane r��gib mulle oma naiseliku h��lega ja pisut s-i susitades: Ou my god, you dont know! It hurt so much! Ma lihtsalt naersin ja naersin ja naersin nii et laud oli kohvi ja tatti t�is sest ma nii kujutasin ette kuidas ta oma naiselikke k�si �ritas p�imida seal ja siis invaliid t�mbas tal raksti �la pesast v�lja.
Oh jah me naersime ikka v�ga palju seal k�ik koos. Boyfriend r��kis mulle et nad olid l�tlasega kohtunud rongi peal ja mis k�ige p�nevam - m�lemad olid vale rongi peal. Millised on selliseks stenaariumiks v�imalused eksole. Ja siis l�tlane oli talle andnud paberi ja m�elnud et teine kirjutab ehk oma andmed talle, aga portugallane ei saanud aru mis ta peab tegema ja kirjutas laia kaarega oma allkirja. :D Ja l�tlane �tles et ta oli vaadanud seda allkirja ja m�elnud et kas tegemist on mingi naljaga v�i on see t��p kuulus v�i midagi.
Boyfriend r��kis mulle et ta tahab j�uludeks L�tti minna. Ja siis l�tlane vaatas mulle otsa ja p��ritas silmi ja �tles: Pleaze tell him he will die in there. Itz not fun in the winter.
Ja ma kohe hoobilt tundsin sellist vennastumist. Meil m�lemal on hell kopp ees nendest pagana lumistest koduteedest ja h�rmas k�rvakarvadest. Pluss muidugi see pagana geivihkamine. �ks suudlus t�naval t�hendab kividega surnuks loopimist. Aga ma �tlesin talle ka et samas ma tean Eestis nii palju enda tuttavatest poisse keda homoseksuaalsus �ldse ei h�iriks ja kes suudaks kildu rebida nendega niiet v�he poleks.
Enne koju minekut kolmas t��p, kes oli eriti kammitud ja s�titud, �tles et tal on 10. august s�nnip�ev ja ta tahaks et ma ka tuleks. Teemapidu veel sealjuures - k�ik peavad k�rgetes kontsades tulema, sest ta armastab stilettosid. :D
Koju ma l�ksin nii hea tujuga nagu ammu pole olnud. Terve tee ajas naerma ja k�rvus kumises boyfriendi �eldud: if god doesn't like gays, why did he create us so cute?

�ks vana blogijupineke m�rtsikuust, mida ma ei j�udnud kunagi l�petada ega postida. Siin ta siis on.

Eelmine n�dalavahetus sai l�puks v�ljas k�idud. Sellel t��bil kes meilt ��ri kogub ja siin koguaeg tillerdab t�llerdab, D'l, oli s�nnip�ev. Alguses l�ksime tema poole ja seal sai natukene keelt kastetud. See on �litobe et okei, k�ik peaksid midagi kaasa tooma, aga umbes �ks inimene seitsmest j�uab ka actually millegagi kohale. Pluss, alati ostetakse veini. Ja siis j�ik joovad pika mokaga.
Mina ja P ostame alati Martini. Okay jah see on kallim, aga me ju ise ka joome. Ja siis igakord kui pudeli lauale paneme, inimesed lausa f��siliselt r�ndavad et esimesena kallata saaks.
Panime siis seekord ka m�rjukese lauale ja kui mingi Adalberto mulle k��narnukiga makku oli pannud, sain ka ise klaasikese.
Siis s�ime torti mis oli D ema tehtud. Paganama hea oli ma �tlen. Siuke ehtne ema tehtud tort. Faking hea.
Peale seda l�ksime k�ik koos kluppi mille nimi on Blow Up.

Tegelikult veel enne s�nnip�eva istusime enda pool k��gis ja j�ime veini. Siin m��dakse �hte mulliga veini mis on t�itsa joodav.
Miks ma seda mainisin praegu, on selleks et anda aimu kui svipsis ma Blow Upi ajaks olin. Jalg oli kerge ja k�rv l�ikis.
Mul olid roosad sukad jalas ja Palermo jalgpalli teami sall (ka roosa) kaelas. :D

Klubis oli teine korrus Erasmusele reserveeritud, aga seal oli friggin palav, niiet me hoidsime ainult jopesid seal. Aga alguses olid seal laua peal mitut sorti pudelid niiet sai j�lle kuivama hakanud keelt kasta. Sattusin juttu r��kima �he Sitsiilia t�druku Carolaga. Tal olid h�sti vinged juuksed. Tumepruunid ja lokkis. V�imas lakk oli. Tal on boyfriend Floridas niiet ta r��kis v�ga head inglise keelt.
�ldse, nagu tavaliselt, ma pl�rasin ilgelt paljude inimestega. �ks t��p, F, on tegelikult meie majaomaniku poeg. Ta on v�ga kena inimene. Selline uje. Ja ta on ilgelt rebase n�oga niiet me kutsume P'ga teda Mozilla Firefoxiks. Ja ta oskab mingil m��ral inglise keelt k�ll, kindlasti paremini kui �lej��nud itaallased, aga igakord kui me kuskil kohtume siis ta on liiga h�belik ja hakkab kohe Itaalia keeles vuristama. Ja ma pean r��muga tunnistama, et ma saan k�igest aru. Isegi kui ma kastis olen.
Ta ei julgenud mulle alguses �ldse silma vaadata, aga siis ma viskasin talle kohe k�e �le �la ja laulsin happy birthday to you, kuigi s�nnip�evalaps (v�ta veel �ks naps) oli �ldse kuskil mujal.
Ja siis F oli ka kuidagi relaxim.
Ja noh sealtmaalt l�ks juba pisut allam�ge sest baaris olid k�ik joogid ainult 3 eurot. Nad ei maininud et peale esimest kokteili enam pole. Niiet k�ik kulutasid kogu oma raha �ra. Ja esimest korda ma seisin baari ees nagu t�llakas ja k�sisin kas kellelgi raha on. Ja mitte kellelgi polnud. xD Ja siis ma leidsin seelikutaskust 10 eurot ja 2 mingit t�iesti v��rast meest juubeldasid.
...
Aga sellega oli veel see, et alguses ma seisin seal koos P ja poolakatega ja mingi mees mu k�rval k�sis et: What do you want to drink?
Ja ma r��msalt �tlesin et martinit, sest ma sain aru et me seisame j�rjekorras ja niisama ajame tiba juttu. Aga siis poole minuti p�rast ta ulatas mulle klaasi martiniga.
�ldiselt ma ei lase kellelgi endale v�lja teha, sest ma ei taha t�nuv�lglaseks j��da ja ma ei taha juttu ajada sest ma olen selleks kohustatud.
Aga seekord oli jook v�ga teretulnud. Ma l�ksin peale seda kohe joonelt peldikusse ja ma ei n�inudki teda rohkem. Peldikus oli P ja poola t�druk N, kes tahtis ilgelt pilti teha. Maitea mis taevamannat ta sealt pimedas pelleris peeglist n�gi, aga ju ta tahtis seda j��dvustada. Ta v�ttis mul ja P'l �mbert kinni ja t�mbas meid kohe julmalt p�lvist k�veraks, sest ta on mingi pool meetrit l�hem. Ja noh selline see pilt siis tuligi. Mina ja P, silmad kr�llis, �ritamas normaalsed ja kained v�lja n�ha, k��rakil, ja siis keskel n�ost s�rav N.

Peale seda muutuvad m�lestused kuidagi uduseks. Ma l�ksin v�lja mingi hetk ja k�ik suitsetasid seal ja noh, ma ei suitseta, seega mul pole v�lksi ega midagi kunagi kaasas. Aga niipaljud inimesed pakkusid kohe suitsu. Ja ilma naljata, mitte ainult mehed. V�hemalt 3-4 naist ka. P�rast MM �tles mulle et ma seisin seal, kaheksa suitsu k�es ja ma olevat neid k�igile pakkunud. Isegi turvamehele. Ja vot seda ma k�ll ei m�leta. Aga ma t�itsa usun, sest purjus peaga mul tuleb alati see share and love meeleolu. MM igatahes arvas et ma olen purjakil olles v�ga kena inimene.
Tegi kohe s�dame soojaks.
�ldse thank god for MM sest siis kui me kluppi saabusime hakkas just live esineja oma viimast lugu tegema. Pikk blond naine, n�gi kahtlaselt mehe moodi v�lja, m�ngis viiulit ja laulis veits ooperih��lega. Ja ma l�ksin kohe ette ritta ja plaksutasin ja elasin t�iega kaasa. Alguses �lej��nud lihtsalt seisid k�ed ristis, aga kui ma tantsima hakkasin, siis hakkas paar Erasmuse inimest ka kaasa elama. Nojah ja siis p�rast seal teisel korrusel ma korraga n�gin, et seesama laulja istus seal mingi piiratud tara taga s�brannaga ja j�i veini ja ma ronisin �le selle n��ri ja l�ksin teda kallistama. Ja �tlesin et mulle ilgelt meeldis ja et kas ma ta plaadi v�in osta. Ja kujutad ette tal oligi plaat kaasas. 15 eurot. Tra ja ma ostsingi selle �ra. No �tle hullu. Ma pole seda kordagi kuulanud veel. 15 eurot on sitaks palju raha, eriti kui sa aint makarone s��d koguaeg.
Ja siis ma andsin selle plaadi MM'ile hoida. Ja p�rast P �tles et mingi 3 tundi hiljem MM oli talle nukra h��lega �elnud, et : BM makes me hold this...
XD
Ma olen jube inimene, lihtsalt piinlik. Aga enda kaitseks ma v�in �elda, et ta tuli vahepeal ja �tles et do u wanna take ur cd ja ma v�ga r��msalt �tlesin et jah muidugi, anna andeks kullakene, ja v�tsin selle enda k�tte, aga see pudises kuidagi l�bi s�rmede mul ja kukkus maha ja siis ma hakkasin seda �les v�tma ja astusin plaadile hoopist�kkis peale.
Ja siis MM v�ttis selle enda k�tte uuesti.

Okay siis veel �ks jupike juba pool aastat hiljemast ajast, kuskil juuli kandis:

Yesterday night me and MM went to a Mexican restaurant. It was great! Beautiful decorations and great (but spicy!) food. We took cocktails too and I must admit, I got a bit tipsy. :D I took a mojito, I've been dreaming of drinking one, for a long time, as it's so goddamn hot in here and I'm always thirsty. Yesterday night was 27 degrees and the humidity was just killing me. It felt like you're constantly swimming in a pool, with millions of other people, and a quoter of them are also peeing.
After eating my head was spinning and when MM got up to pay, I felt I couldn't get up myself. So when the waiter came, I just pretended to be drinking water, so I wouldn't embarrass myself by crawling from the table to the door.
Outside pretty much everything made me laugh and MM, that innocent soul, said I was cute. :D
Then we went to my apartment where I changed clothes and tried to do my make up, but it kept melting off. Later he dropped me off at Ballaro, the market, and drove away. I met P, the third floor English girl R, the first floor German boy S, a Romanian boy C (during the first semester there was also a Romanian boy with the same name - Catalin. But we kept calling him Katakomb. xD), and a Portuguese girl... deem I don't remember her name, but she was cute. P had a bottle of wine and tried to explain me that she was pretty drunk because she had some shots of Sambuca and something else (plus the wine bottle was half empty xD). It's so lovely how all the nations of the world L O V E to say "terviseks"! Some say it sounds like dirty sex. :D Anyway, whereever I am, whoever I'm with, they always yell TERVISEKS! So sweet! :)
The English girl, played Kings of Leon's "Sex On Fire" from her mobile and we all sung along. We were actually waiting for the first floor Spanish girl G, who is a total loonatic, in the best possible way. She is fucking awesome :D Always so energetic and funny. So we kept yelling her name, as loud as possible. Her last name is Diaz, and you know, how they pronounce the z, like they have no teeth. So thats what we did too. I bet it seemed really strange to people passing by, when we just randomly, shouted over the street DIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAAZZZZHHHHHHHHTTTZHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Finally we got to Drunks, our favourite pub. (By the way, one of the bartenders had a shirt that said: the Lord of the Drinks! :D how cool is that!)
There I saw this Spanish guy who is reaaally great, but sadly, it was his last night here in Palermo :( last night of his Erasmus. He was sitting and playing the guitar, which he, by the way, decided to smash later that night, and I went to him, hugged him and told him what a great guy he is, but at the same time, by accident, I managed to pour my drink down his shoulder and his back. Which was sooooo embarrassing xD xD He didn't mind though. I was pretty scared at first because he is an aries, and I kinda expect them to react in quite a loud way. But no, he acted as if nothing had happened. xD
Then me and P decided to move on to Piazza Magione to meet the other Estonians. We said goodbye to everyone. It goes like this that you start from the left and then just go through each and every person and kiss them twice on the cheeks. Pretty awful, when there are many many many people. G, the Spanish loonatic just grabbed me and kissed me on one cheek for, I'm not kidding, at least 50 seconds. It just went on and on and on and on and she made those grandmother muahhh sounds. When she finally let me go, some random Italians clapped their hands.

When we got to Piazza Magione we sat down under a tree with our drinks and started playing the bottle game because there was an empty beer bottle on the grass. It went like this: The neeeeext one...has to say an animal starting with l ......the neeeeext one has to say a fish starting with l..... the next one has to say a slimey animal with r.... the next one has to say a fox with f.
Between all the spins we laughed like crazy. We sat facing each other but suddenly there were 7 (!) guys sitting next to us, so we formed this pretty huge circle and they tried to kinda blend in with the game but we stubbornly just played with eachother. Everytime the neck of the bottle faced any of the guys, they tried to say something, but we just yelled J�RGMINE �TLEB R T�HEGA....REBASE! (next one says a fox with f ) and spinned it again. After finishing the drinks we just got up and walked away. It's the thing with us, we usually don't talk to people, especially if they look weird, bald or pervy. I have no interest whatsoever in them. I see many foreign girls answering to pervy looking locals, and before they notice, the pervert has already glued himself to them and they can't get away. I also don't like even most hot guys. I don't know whats wrong with me. Maybe I have a flirting limit and it's full. The guy has to attract me physically mentally, I don't know. He has to be friggin awesome. Other than that, I have no interest. I prefer playing the bottle game and going to sleep.
But that night we didn't go to sleep, no no no. We went to a bar that's called Peppe Nero, just to use the toilet. While standing in the line, we thought about getting a new drink from the bar. But I started thinking that what if the glasses here are really small. :D Really, it's like, it's 3 euros everywhere, but some places have tall glasses and some really small. So I started wondering how to ask it in Italian, as nobody understands English here anyway. I asked a guy infront of us and after a long and tiresome explaining he told us: quanto alcol c'e nel bicchiere. So I went to the bar, asked it, with a really really soft tongue, and tatatatat the glass was very small. So screw it, we just used the toilet and left.
By that time the Estonians had arrived with 2 french couples and we sat behind a table on the grass.

�ks luuletus, mis meeldis:

The Look   by Sara Teasdale     

Strephon kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.

Strephon's kiss was lost in jest,
Robin's lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin's eyes
Haunts me night and day.
     

Today we went to the supermarket. Infront of my building, a creepy looking hindu guy told me: you are my goddess!
Isn't that nice. To be somebody's goddess. And then I started thinking... aren't all the goddesses in Hindu religion half animals. Like with a head of an elephant or a monkey?
Maybe when I came out from the house, the guy was like: wow Ganesha!!!

Then in the supermarket I wanted to pay and the guy decided to practice some English. The machine said 15,80. He said "fifteen" and then he obviously got into trouble. He went all red and tried all sorts of random numbers but never got to 80. So I just quickly gave him the money and left. It's a pity, because Sicilians usually don't even try. And now he did and failed. And in the future he doesn't want to try anymore. :(

Me and P were walking on the street last night, when a car passed by and a man yelled from the window: DESTINYS CHILD!
And P said: Oh great. I'm a black woman now.
It made me laugh so hard. XD How many girls wanna be Beyonce. Well, not us. :D Then the guy slowed down and drove backwards to speak to us. He kept naming all the European countries. I told P I was wondering when he would get to African countries. Next time I have a chance, I'll ask some Italian guy: Where are you from? Nigeria? Somalia? Maputo? St. Johannesburg?

It's like some weird game. They name all the countries they know and except us to cheer and yell BINGO when they hit the jackpot. And then we'll all be best friends and walk into the sunset (or their fiat) together. Well, ain't gonna happen.

Some nights ago when we were going down the stairs, I told P: slow down, I need a drinking break like the runners . Like Jaak Mae.
And P said: Jaak Mae is a skiier. We were very drunk so it mades us laugh like crazy. You can picture how the neighbours love our "goinnnn down the stairs at midnight, feelin all happy" moments.

Detsember 2009

Ma istun diivanil ja s��n torti. K�es on p�ev p�rast j�ule. Nelja p�eva p�rast pean taas Palermosse s�itma. Tulin koju vaid j�uludeks. Hea on s��a kodust toitu. S��n seda tegelikult tunduvalt rohkem kui peaksin. �ritan naudingutest viimast v�tta. Silmade taga ujuvad juba lihapallid ja k�rvust pressib kartuliputru v�lja.
Palermos ootab mind... ootavad mind... Seal ootab mind �hekorraga palju asju ja samas mitte kui midagi.

"It's bad that I met you. Before I thought life was perfect. Now I'm always missing something," �tles mu eks. Tunne on kurb.

Parimaid sms'e Palermos:

s: so girls, i am waiting
s: hey girls, would you like to smoke my nargile?
f: where are u? we are at mora mora, lewt me know!
l: where do you are?
l: i dont know, it dipends if i find a car parck i sand an sms
g: un bear the cathedral, where are you?

19:45Claudio

are you studing????

19:45Stella

ahaha

:D

alllllll the time

19:46Claudio

yes yes iknow......

19:49Claudio

i think that you nn fai un cazzo...

19:49Stella

ahahahha

erasmus - education first!

After staying in Palermo for 2 months:

How many times have I started this post? I think five. Everytime I've written about something different. Then I tried to mix them all together but I failed because some were super happy, others very depressive. And I understood it's not easy to put down all my thoughts about the 2 months I've staid in Palermo and had my Erasmus in one post

I've sat on the back of a car at night, going 100 km/h in the city center, listening to "When love takes oveeeeeer" on max volume, I've spent nights in a room with 15 degrees and a dripping ceiling, thinking about diving from the balcony. I've drunk bottles and bottles of vodka, I've gone to a real Casino, I've laid in bed sick, wishing to have my family with me.
I've done things that make me go red like the apples in the markets here, I've done things I'm really proud of. I've been happy, I've been sad. It's not possible to set one mood for the whole post.
I've slept whole days, I've slept whole nights. Yet I suffer from serious sleep derivation because I drink every week like an animal (who, clearly, drink a lot) and it has happened one too many times that I don't have time to sleep enough between parties.
At the same time I can't say that Woohoo! never been happier. Because humans are greedy bastards, never completely happy and they always miss things they don't have.
First and foremost I miss my own personal circle of friends who can make me happy, sad, giggly, annoyed, but they never leave me cold. Here it's one person after another who just parties with you but doesn't really care whether you exist or not. Maybe I'm unfair and there are people who care but it's me who has been cold. Well, that's life. What I want to say is that I miss being with my sweet friends who I feel so comfortable with.
The second thing I miss is food. Gosh how I grave for Selver. In my dreams I enter the pearly gates, pushing a trolley infront of me, stuffing potato salad, desserts, chicken nuggets, Finnish pizza, all sorts of warm food and even friggin bors into it.
Damn I miss homefood so much. When I'll come back, I'll take a taxi from the airport and go straight to Selver. I swear, I will cry when I enter. I will cry like a little child when I pile up nuggets and potato salad. And Kalev chocolate and all the shitty Estonian ice cream which has no taste compared to Italian ice cream, but what I looooveeee sooooo much because I'm used to it.
I will practically fly to the corner where they sell warm food. Gosh....I will buy everything. Well, except the spaghetti. %-D
And then I will go home and put the TV playing.... and I will sit ALONE in my living room, with both TV and the radio playing, like always. And I will just sit and eat and watch TV. And then I will turn on my laptop just to see how fast the internet is. And I will download all the series in the world. And then....then I will put switch in sauna and I will take a looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong shower with boiling hot water.
And that's what the third thing is - my apartment, privacy. Also my beach house with my family in it, with my dogs.



But who cares what I miss, right? I'm here, I'm doing Erasmus and the boring nights in my boring Sicilian apartment are worth the fun I have when I exit!

I regret not writing everything down earlier because I have a hard time remembering things after 2 or 3 days. And now it's been 2 months. But I couldn't have been asked to write anything with those horrible hangovers. After parties me and P just lay in a completely dark room, both in our beds, sleeping and dreaming of Charlie the Unicorn for about 15 hours. Then we get up, take a shower, stuff something down or throats and open a new bottle of Vodka, or occasionally, Bacardi. Ready to party again.

Tonight I was, actually, thinking how annoying all sorts of feelings are. It's so much easier to be cold all the time. No love, thank you very much. New faces every day, new compliments every night. But unfortunately, it happens that sometimes you find somebody who you may like a teeeeeeeeny bit more. It sucks. It takes all the fun out of everything. I'm scared of it. I hate people using my heart and then throwing it away. I hate all this... checking on somebody's profile who they've been talking to ...or... if they have lost interest in you and they're flirting with somebody else.
Coz in general, stuff like that never interests me. I barely ever check somebody's pictures or lurk on their webpages, but I'm scared that what IF I may start doing it. Then I'll be a goner. I tend to love with passion and the breakup will be a passionate one too. And I don't want it. I want to be happy like a child. :)


I went to Malta for 4 days. On the first night, in the first club we entered, we all got on the tables and started dancing. This may be the best way to characterize the trip. Dancing on the tables. Dancing around the poles. Dancing crazy.
One night we had 48 shots of Tequila. Forty eight! I'm still alive. I think my liver isn't functioning like it used to and I think it's not possible for me to ever calculate without the help of my fingers again, but that's that.
Is Erasmus hella lotta fun? Yes it is. Is Erasmus difficult? Yes it is! Do I love it? Yes I do!
In Malta, there's this club street and it's awesome. It's packed with clubs. Right next to each other. All sorts and kinds. Underground and on the 2nd floor, big, small. All night long you can just go from club to club without getting bored. And in almost all of them you can get a free cocktail or the first drink will be cheaper or something. Boyyyyyy it was super cool now in November, I can't imagine what it's like in August. The craziest place on the planet.
Malta as a country is beaaaauuuuuutiiiiful. Plus everyone speaks English, and they have KFC, Macdonalds, Burger King and Pizza Hut all on the same street! :D
Omg, they even sell Orbit in the stores! My favourite chewing gum!
It was really refreshing to be there after Palermo. People don't stare at you like maniacs and nobody yells stupid shit to you. Men are beautiful. The weather is warmer - no jacket during daytime! And the streets are clean!
I've gotten so used to the trash on the streets in Palermo. I don't even see it anymore.
Anyway, Malta rules.

Here in Palermo I'm still struggling with school. Damn, Me and P are the only Erasmus students in our faculty, oh wait, one Swedish-Spanish girl too, but her Italian is fluent, so we are the only ones in class who don't understand shit. The teachers talk so fast and well, it's political science, so they do a lot of speaking.
Every day at 8 I go there, sit in the class, between all these Italian girls who look alllll exactly the same, take out my Su-Doku and spend 4 most boring hours of my life. Gosh it's impossible to pass any exams. Even if I understand some words, I have no idea how to write them down. I may understand what the teacher is talking about in general but I always miss the main point of the sentences. I have Diritto Internazionale, which is international law. The teacher came in, sat down, said: Diritto internazionale e...(I was like yehhuuuu I understand)un....blablablabalbalabalbalabalabalba(me: lost it).
It's really frustrating. Sometimes me and P get really depressed. We just sit there and look on the ground. It's getting better though. By that I mean we just care less and less every day. :D
It's horrible how things are done here. They aren't.
Got an appointment at 3pm? I start taking a shower at 3:30pm. There's no point to go somewhere in time. If a person wont be there an hour later, he/she wasn't there anyway.
Kinda nice if you think about it. No sweat.
On the other hand, it's friggin annoying when you gotta run some uni stuff for the Estonian teachers and the Italian ones are never in the offices.
Our tutor-whatever-lady works only on Fridays from 10-13pm. We went to her office at 12 and they said she left half an hour ago. :D Niceeeeee! I guess working once a week for 3 hours is too much. Woman's gotta rest!

I probably gotta repeat all the lectures in Estonia. But you know what? I don't care! Erasmus is worth it.


--- It was weird to read that post, now that I'm at home, alone in my living room, watching TV and eating potato salad. But yeah, I was right about Erasmus being worth every single not so nice experience or moment in my life. Erasmus is great. :)


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So what have I been doing for a month and a half?
At first things were new and weird and surprising. But now I've got my own little routine -
on Monday's I go to school and then I come home, cook, eat and lay in bed the whole day. Tuesday I got school and then, coz it's so boring, I go out at night and meet some Erasmus people for a beer or two. Sometimes I end up drinking more. Sometimes I get shitfaced.
Wednesday I've got school and then after school I eat and at night I gotta go out coz come on, it's almost the weekend! I get fucking drunk and end up dancing till my spine breaks.
On Thursday I've got school but man I got home at five, I ain't gettin' up at seven. I sleep sleep sleep, get up, eat and start planning the evening coz, hey, it's almost the weekend! I feel �ber shit but I still go out at night coz everybody goes to a specific bar to meet and talk about the week (basically Monday) and go clubbing later in a club that's always open on Thursdays. It's very gay but by that time I don't care coz I'm shitfaced.
On Friday I have school but my alarm doesn't work coz my phone fell under my bed when I came home at four. I sleep sleep sleep, get up, try to eat, think about throwing up and swear I wont drink for a month. Then in a few hours when the shops open (at 16) we go out and buy vodka and red bull for the night. Then we get shitfaced.
Comes Saturday morning. A migraine. I wake up in the evening and get up from bed just to hear what are the plans for the night. Don't really wanna go.
Nevertheless, in 3 hours I get shitfaced.
Sunday morning. No memories of last night whatsoever. New pics on Facebook. Great. Otherwise I wouldn't recognise the people who say hello to me on the street.
Nothing to do on Sunday night, so we go eat Macdonalds, meet some Erasmus people and have some beers. Maybe a breezer or two. Trying not to get shitfaced.
And voila, then the "schoolweek" starts again. Cough.



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Selle noodiga ma ka l�petan.
:)

�She wants to know if I love her, that�s all anyone wants from anyone else, not love itself but the knowledge that love is there, like new batteries in the flashlight in the emergency kit in the hall closet.� ~Jonathan Safran Foer

19 days left in Palermo. Why do you always have to give up the things you've finally got. When it's close to perfect. She told me she cried at night. Me too. :(
I don't want to leave my love, the sun, the smiling people, the fresh olives, the espresso, the little streets, the cold churches on a hot day, the freedom of not being responsible for anything, the windy balcony and the view, the sandy towels, the dogs who I give the ham from between my cartoccio, the market in the mornings, the watermelons being sold everywhere you look, everywhere, the kebab at 4 am, the laying on grass at night when drunk, the happiness, the listening to Ipod while walking to the farthest theatre, the sugarsweet grapes, the babyblue sea, the smell of bread while walking on narrow empty streets, the kissing on both cheeks, the shouting "terviseks" with people from 10 different countries, the watching Italian TV shows, the seeing beauty in people instead of criticising them, the yellow mornings when I lay in my bed and I hear Italian from the window. I don't want to leave my love. My Love.

�The best things said come last. People will talk for hours saying nothing much and then linger at the door with words that come with a rush from the heart� ~Alan Alda

Ahhahaha, mul tuli praegu t�iesti lampi meelde kuidas me olime MM'i, mu venna ja ta t�drukuga rannas ja meil oli kotiga kaasas viinamarju ja virsikuid. L�puks oli ainult kaks virsikut j�rel ja vend otsustas, et teeb �he pooleks. Vaevalt j�udis siis selle pooleks murda kui sealt lendas 2 mingisugust tiibadega putukat v�lja ja m�ned passisid veel sees ka. Vend karjus koleda h��lega ���������ggghhh, litsus neid kahte poolt uuesti kokku ja �tles siis t�lgastunud h��lega: nagu mingi kuradi kinder surprise.


XDXDXD