Sunday, 29 April 2012

In the air

Future – 24 hours later, Sunday 29th of May, 7pm 
I’m sitting on an airplane to Barcelona as you are reading this. This is my very first flight and I’m scared, hoping that it will all go smoothly.

Present – Saturday evening
I’m sitting on the sofa in my in-laws living room and quietly tapping on my computer, writing this post and making plans for our trip at the same time. I’m excited and nervous, happy and scared.
I try not to think about the flight and I struggle not to panic needlessly. I prefer to daydream about exploring streets of Barri Gòtic and watching beautiful old buildings. I daydream about a long walk through Parc Güell, admiring architectural masterpieces of Antonio Gaudí, and a visit to el Museu Picasso de Barcelona. I daydream about smelling and buying exotic spices in Mercat de la Boqueria and sitting in una cafetería, slowly sipping coffee and watching the locals.

Past – lunchtime, Sunday 22nd of April
I’m sitting in a restaurant, having a lovely lunch with Mr Starlights parents.
“We were thinking,“ says my father-in-law. ”Do you have anything planned for next weeks holidays?“
His question draws our attention and we answer simultaneously. “No.“
“Would you rather go to Iceland or Barcelona?“

Future – 24 hours later, Sunday 29th of May, 7pm 
Obviously, we were ecstatic and didn’t know what to say at that moment. I am a city girl and I love exploring unknown cities so I preferred the latter but I didn’t say no to Iceland.
Circumstances ruled in favour of the capital of Catalonia and now here I am, sitting on a plane headed to Ciutat Comtal (City of Counts).

Photo taken from here.

Tuesday, 24 April 2012



[mass noun]
1a feeling of deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one’s own achievements, the achievements of one’s close associates, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired
(pride oneself on/upon)
be especially proud of (a particular quality or skill): he prided himself on his honesty


We walked down the hall, both nervous and in anticipation; after hours of studying we just wanted to be done with it as soon as posible. I opened the door to the inner corridor and saw the profesor standing in front of his office.

“You're here for the exam, right?“ he asked.

“Indeed we are.“ I answered.

“Why, come inside and lets get this over with.“


Half an hour or so later we came out of his office with our heads raised high, proud of ourselves and happy because it went very well. 

Thursday, 19 April 2012


It was a cold, somber spring morning and I firmly grabbed the pole as the bus pulled out, trying to retain balance in my high heels while my iPod was playing Starlight by Muse.

I noticed them right away; she was seductively leaning against the pole and he was watching her with lust and sparkles mixed in his eyes. He grabbed her waist, pulled her towards him and kissed her passionately. They made me feel quite uncomfortable and I turned my head away, desperately trying not to watch them but they were standing right in front of me and I could still see them. They didn’t mind people watching them though. They only had eyes for each other as if they were alone on the bus, smiling, whispering into each others ears and kissing.

I bet their morning wasn’t somber and I’m sure they didn’t notice the ominous dark clouds gathering above the city. 

Sunday, 15 April 2012


I recently bought a new handbag, which was followed by moving contents of my old handbag to the new one. This is always, without exception, an interesting experience; I’m even considering calling it a journey.

You see, women tend to carry around a lot of things, almost all of them equally important and/or needed, and all of them need to be carefully moved to their new, most often bigger home. I’ve noticed that my handbags are getting bigger as I’m getting older and there are more and more things I can’t leave my home without. A makeup bag is one of those essential items my life depends on; and those also tend to grow as years pass, just as wallets do. There are several other objects that I can’t live without – a planner, a water bottle, hand moisturiser, sunglasses, my iPod and so forth. Then, there is also clutter that ends up in my handbag by chance, such as wrinkled receipts, old theatre or movie tickets and an old pack of gum; those can usually be found at the bottom of a handbag or in some more or less secret compartment. The clutter won’t be transferred to the new bag; instead it’ll be thrown away or, in some rare cases, left in the old handbag.

I always grab the first chance I get to move things from my old bag to the new one. This is usually in the car; while Mr S drives us home from the successful hunt I admire the catch and make the transition. This time it was different though; I bought the bag in the city centre and had to survive the whole bus ride home with my new acquisition patiently waiting in a huge pink shopping bag.

As soon as I got home I took my new precious out of the shopping bag and proudly displayed it on the white sofa, which is used as storage for all sort of things rather than sitting. The right end is reserved for my handbag and the left one for Mr Starlights bag; between those two we usually put our clothes when we change and don’t feel like folding them right away. From time to time it becomes a bookshelf when I put a bunch of books that need to be returned to the library right next to my handbag, making sure I won’t forget them at home just in case I’ll be leaving the apartment in a hurry the next morning.

I recently bought a new handbag, which was followed by an interesting journey. Moving contents of my old handbag to the new one always includes finding an item or two I forgot about and it recalls a happy memory that draws a dreamy smile to my face.  

Photo was taken by my friend Alja, you can find more of her magnificent photos here.

Tuesday, 10 April 2012

A blue-haired girl

I'm at the bus stop, waiting for my bus to arrive, curiously observing my surroundings. There are people whooshing by on their bicycles, occasionally dinging their bell when some negligent pedestrian, most often an inconsiderate teenager, occupies the bicycle path. 

I watch them, the bicyclists not the teenagers, feeling a bit guilty because I always take the bus instead of cycling. I check the time on my new iPod, considering borrowing a bike and actually doing it for once rather than thinking about it and having a guilty conscience. It seems that faith doesn’t want me to lose some weight because I’m already a bit late which is not typical for me. Also, it’s still too cold to ride a bike so I quickly abandon the idea, trying to ignore the fact that there are lots of people cycling so it probably isn’t that cold. I try to occupy my guilty mind with one of the most inspiring things in the world – watching random people. 

Bicyclists pass by too fast for me to take a good look at them, unlike my fellow bus-goers; most of them hang around long enough for me to think up their life stories. Not everyone is interesting enough though, after years of watching people my standards are pretty high. A blue-haired girl dressed like a hippie, for instance, doesn’t meet the criteria. She’s probably frustrated because she’s always been just a bit too chubby to fit in so she’s trying to make friends by being different. I seriously doubt that her vivid blue hair helps her in any way.

Before I manage to find someone worth my time, the bus I’m waiting for arrives. I take one last look at the people whooshing by, promising myself that I’ll get up early enough to cycle to the university tomorrow, looking forward to watching bus passengers for the next fifteen minutes. 

Monday, 2 April 2012

100 words: Light-footed

I open the doors of the wardrobe where my spring and summer shoes are stored. My favourite time of the year is approaching which means that the days are getting warmer and that I don’t need my winter boots anymore.

I grab my favourite pair of flip-flops (the shiny yellow ones) and smile. I look at them for a while before I put them back, knowing that they’ll have to wait a bit longer.

I reach inside once again and take what I was looking for, my black ballerinas. I quickly slip them on and walk outside, light-footed and happy.

I *heart* Old Navy's flip flops

Photo taken from here.