...it's all new and wonderful but I can only think of the other one...

He's sitting in the corner of the room. So full of hopes and expectations, it's all new and wonderful but I can only think of the other one, the one I know inside out and I wish I could just bring  back to life to avoid having to deal with the newness of a new computer. In the meantime I use the old iPad that has limited functionality and doesn't allow me to edit text. 

Change?! It used to be incredibly easy for me, change country, change job, change hobbies, change hair colour, lately I realised that I take the idea of change with some resistance. 

Is it a sign of maturity (thinking about the long term goals instead of instant gratification), or a sign that I've accommodated to my life? 

December 2002 I climbed the stairs ecstatic. My flatmate was home and I went straight to the kitchen to give her the wonderful news. 'I was accepted...hurray, I am off to Hungary for a pos graduate experience!' (well it ended up being Ireland but that's a whole new story...).

'What? Really? Her face saddened, she started crying and locked herself in her room. 

Glued to her door I said but 'Hey, but I got it, you should be happy for me, not sad.... I'll be back, don't worry!' I did come back but it was for a couple of months and I've been living abroad ever since. 

Two days ago my best friend said she was moving to the countryside and even if I didn't run out the door or cried, inside I felt something cracking. ' You can't do that, said the little silent voice in my heart', ' Ah that's awesome' I vocalised genuinely as I know she has been feeling like moving for a while. Actually we have both been feeling like that but hey she is moving ahead of me which sucks (as it is the part of being left behind that is painful). 

Then it hit me that for the last couple of years I've been resisting change, and oh boy, it is so overdue. Every time I get bored I start off another course and that keeps me motivated but that doesn't change the fact that I've been postponing my future because I am avoiding what will certainly be a huge change.

I now understand how my best friend felt in 2003, change hurts people, but it will hurt you even more if you don't move because you are afraid of it. 

I shall be brave! Now, Lenovo Yoga, come here let's be friends..

I'll miss him, longest relationship i've ever had!

So, what's the diagnosis? 

It's bad! 

A virus? 

No, not a virus. 

Oh no... Manflu? 

Worse... 

What's worse than manflu?

I am afraid it is terminal. 

Terminal?? Cancer you think? 

Lymphatic!... It spread to the whole RAM

This is terrible, how long?

Get your external drive for a backup. 

Jzzzz..that bad?! 

I have hidden the harddrive in such a brilliant place (robbers will never think of it), well now I can't think of it. 

I am becoming my mum, she would find Easter eggs around Christmas and we still eat them, along with Santa. Chocolate is chocolate, never mind the wrapping! Speaking of wrapping, I've bought chocolate in Cuba from a local artisan and it came wrapped on the chemistry school work of her daughter. The first tablet unwrapped had the cover of the exercise (pic)' the second contained notes of what it looked like a chemistry recipe.

'What happened to your homework Laila, the teacher asked?'

'My mum needed the paper to wrap chocolate tablets for some greedy tourists.'

The big bars were disgusting, I've offered one to K&G bragging the deliciousness of the product and the poor guys reacted better than I did when I first tried (spit the whole thing). I am sorry.....the tiny bars were soo tasty! 

He died peacefully in his sleep last night, after the backup. I'll miss him, longest relationship i've ever had! I've dropped it on the first week I've bought it, he reacted well. A few months later I spilled a whole cup of tea on top of the keyboard, it took him three days to recover. I think he realised from the start that he needed to be sturdy if he wanted to last so he did just that and because of it I started treating it better, no more falls or drops and we lasted almost seven years. Should apply the same technique to men I think! 

I need to engulf big chunks of air to expel the excess fire from the stormy heat

I've been sitting on the most uncomfortable chair ever made (too long to allow my feet to reach the ground, too short to allow me to lean backwards and still be able to read). The backs of my knees hurt from the wooden support against the legs, but it is just too hot  and humid to move elsewhere or to even move any muscle.
Sweat drips down my back and my skirt is glued to my legs. Every couple of minutes I feel like I need to engulf big chunks of air to expel the excess fire from the stormy heat.

I can hear the dominos clashing against one another on the improvised table set on the street downstairs, while I can visualise the four old men that play every day on the same place for hours in a row.

From the pateo of 'casa Tony', my presence seems to mingle with the afternoon atmosphere. The noise that would have otherwise annoyed me elsewhere; here it just feels natural, it is the sound of living.

Republic's street in Baracoa isn't the noisiest but certainly not the quietest either in this stormy cloudy afternoon. Spanish tv is audible from the neighbours house, the cock sings at four in the afternoon and the dominos now being shuffled, topless and barefeet kids play with marbles after stripping off their impeccably clean communist school uniforms.

House doors and windows are left open, allowing the passants to peep inside, greet the babies that nah nha nha in their own language. Door to door sellers announce their passage by beeping their bike or van horns. House ladies come to the windows and doors to buy fruits and bread for their guests.
Casa's particulares share the similar concept of B&B in the western world, except that here the family life seems to intertwine with the tourists that come through family spaces such as living rooms and kitchens where people snooze and cook.

There is constant movement, Cuban late afternoons are packed with activities. Cigars are more a myth than reality. They are offered at fancy hotel lobbies and tourist shops but are certainly not seen hanging from the mouths of many Cubans and in fact I have only noticed two or three being smoked on the streets.

The 'system' gives me mixed feelings. Everyone is fed, at least half of the month. ( rationed food isn't enough to feed a family for the whole month), school is free and mandatory, healthcare is also covered. Having some needs met, a good share of Cubans aren't too pushed to make money and instead begging for pens, clothes and exchanges between cuban pesos and cucs (foreign currency).

It is a fascinating place, full of colour, life, beauty and rhythm

May McDonald's, Ikea and supermarket chains never invade this country!

As if it was an alien voice I am surprised by that discovery

I am sitting inside a pitch dark dome at 10:30 pm. The only glimpses of light that once in a while reach the place are the result of silhouettes that come and go, opening and closing the heavy curtains behind them.

I am enjoying the experience of just being here until the moment I start thinking… Are there spiders around? I slip the shoes back on and focus on the soothing drumming sound that resembles a heartbeat and is gently leading me to a lovely comforting place inside my mum’s womb.  I feel protected and cared for and somehow lose track of time and even space. Swirling white and golden filaments can be seen in front of me. 'Is this really happening I wonder?' I stretch my hand and try to touch them but they evaporate. Once I come back to the physical realm I realise that the drumming has ceased and the room isn't only pitch dark but also incredibly silent. 'Am I alone here?' Heart starts racing imagining all sorts of demons but somehow manage to quiet the dragon as I stand up and find my way out.

Outside the bonfire is still burning and my shamanic partner persists in drumming to the last flames. There are a couple of people chatting in the circle but oblivious to the fire. I can see a few ambulating through the grounds showing up from around bushes and tops of trees as the night falls upon us in the forest. I stand there with E observing the flames until the cold takes over my humanity I walk inside for a warm shower before falling asleep in the dorm. Can't recall when was the last time I shared one.. luckily I brought the earplugs as sound sensitivity makes  me a nervous sleeper if I hear snores in the vicinity.

Sunday morning I am told to connect with the energy of the plants, trees and nature. We are let to wonder for an hour under a drizzly sky. The grounds are beautiful and lively and I decide to follow the opposite route to the previous morning. My final destination is the majestic tree near the arches that I sat by the earlier day in meditation.

To connect with the elements we are told to use a rattle a drum or a song. ‘Singing? Are you mad…I can't sing!’ I grab a tiny rattle and follow the path along the lake in a slow pace and contemplative mode.     

I am stopped by a beautiful bushy tree whose branches reach all the way down to the lake, connecting earth and water in the gentlest way.

I sit down by the lake edge just beside the tree’s root and before I notice a humming melody has originated in my chest and is being vocally expressed.My tree doesn't want to be rattled, she wants a song. As if it was an alien voice I am surprised by that discovery. The humming continues with different tones and I feel it reverberate in my heart. It feels good! At the distance another humming echoes mine. It is an exquisite experience that my self conscious mind has been denying to my adult persona. ‘Did I sing as a child? I am pretty sure I did.’ We used to sing, dance and even choreograph our own theatre shows for the parents and neighbours.   

I return to the room full of people in wonder and exploration mode, the shamanic journey continues until later in the afternoon.  

The energetic dancing, drumming, journeying and connecting for over two and a half days finally takes over me and I pass out on Sunday evening happily convinced that Shamanism isn’t a distant practice but very much something that has been within me ever since I first read those Castaneda books in University. Fifteen years passed and I am reminded of the Anthropological curiosity that lead me to go beyond the initial fear of death and darkness as a youngster and the search for that truth and strength that lies within. The Journey of self-discovery lasts a whole life time. Looking forward to find what lies around the next corner in the forest or that rabbit hole in the trickiest lands. The lioness in me has never been this fearless!

At this stage my hands are as dirty as mechanic's hands......

Could you do this for me now he asks? Why is it always an after hours request I wonder? I should have left work on the dot! 
When i put the yoga bag on the back of the bike i check my pocket for the phone, 5:10 dammit i am already late. Suddenly the bike stand gives in and the bike collapses on the ground breaking my mini pink rear-view mirror. Argh I pick up the bike and as I stand up, the high vis jacket grips on to my tights and as I briskly pull it back it rips off my tights. The bike slides again and I hear a crack. Noooo this can't be happening? The bike chain pops out!  My bike is a cute thing but the fact that there's a yellow rail protecting the chain it makes it really hard to bring it back in place without removing the protection rail and I obviously don't have the tools with me. 

At this stage my hands are as dirty as mechanic's hands and I am getting frustrated thinking that I will have to give up and walk. 

A colleague that I had never come across offers his help. After a few attempts we eventually manage to fix it. When I finally put the bag back on the bike he is already cycling at the speed of light so I can't thank him properly.

As I am leaving the work gate I realise it is now  5:20 which means that I've missed my class. This was the only thing I was really looking forward today! 

Feeling defeated I cycle home, as am arriving at the complex a black cat crosses my path and as I am reaching the gate yet another dark cat chances his luck in front of the wheel.

Cutie pie ( my cat) is waiting at the door with meows that say: ' I really don't care about your day, feed me now!' 

I walk in and go straight to the bathroom to wash my hands, the shirt is stained, the tights are ripped and as I look in the mirror I can't help but laughing when I see what it looks like a 'Dali' moustache on my upper lip.

Note to self, do not touch your face with dirty hands, do not put a heavy bag on the back of the bike, but ultimately ignore your boss's  request after hours! 

A To-Do Awaits you..

Was talking to a friend the other day about the amount of information we share online and how our data is sold to companies when we accept ‘cookies.’ How can someone reject cookies? This is the kind of word that makes us smile, it is embedded in our brains, we want more cookies (with hot chocolate preferably). Whoever came up with the idea of calling the data collection ‘cookies’ is a pretty smart person,(and probably fat)!

We have a new platform at work that apparently contains all our data. I had no interest in exploring it until my boss said that I should check if the salary information was correct. Dirty trick as that made me look at all the other tabs and review my information, which I am pretty sure it was her objective.

For some reason my profile was showing my marital status. I clicked there and searched for the option ‘none of your business’, but there wasn't such an option so I left it blank. 

A couple of minutes later the ‘smart’ platform sent me an email: ‘A To-Do Awaits you: Provide supporting documents for your personal data change request’

What??? WTF? That's a bit offensive! 

Is there a single certificate out there? 

Artificial intelligence isn't always that intelligent and neither is predictive texting. 

My phone is a bloody prude who can't spell f***ing so I end up with duckling which hinders the message and when I write my name ‘he’ autocorrects  it to Abs or Bob...nice!  

Thanks for giving her some food, and thanks for the message, made my day!

Last night as I was exiting my neighbour’s lift I noticed a poster of a missing cat and immediately recognised the kitty in the picture as the regular furry legged creature that visits my patio for a pet any odd day.

This afternoon while de-weeding the garden, the kitty showed up, I could sense he was hungry (he never asked for food before) so I fed him some Portuguese gourmet tuna (that was the only fishy thing I had in the cupboard). While he was having lunch I took a picture of his cute figure and send it to the number on the ad. 

                                          An hour later the person who posted the ad replies.

                                                       2 hours later my flatmate texts:

I guess we have just inherited a Kitty!...it's a girl