This post sucks, but I still feel like keeping it.

Dreamed about Pedro finding a new girlfriend. They came home late at night, I did not know untill morning. She got her things all over "my" bathroom - but not my current one, the one from my childhood :)
A funny dream.


I also noted down this other dream, like a week ago probably... cannot really figure out when that was. Cannot figure out much of the dream anyway.
Headed for the subway. lot of little coins. wondering: enough for a ticket? get to the ticket vending machine, some ppl around. Purse was open, it had a banknote. man (possibly homeless?) comes, asks for money: ...no. immediately puts his finger on my rib. hurts and tickles. I get my arms close (not being able to close or hide the purse) shout at him to stop. does not stop. start running away. does not stop. see a policeman and cry for help. to stop the man touching me. the policeman tells me to watch my walet (from the other ppl) and does nothing. all repeats. I run around him. He just stands. I start thinking why the hell does not he help me? raised heart beat. wake up.

Culinary Intermezzo: Homemade Seitan.

Thanks Miguel and Kimie!

Mix flour and water. You can add salt, but it really did not make a difference, so I will skip that next time. Work the dough (adding water or flour) untill it is all well mixed, smooth, but rather hard.
It should not stick to your fingers.
My friend suggested to leave it rest overnight, while internet source suggested half an hour. Half an hour did not work for me (my first try was completely dissolved in water... nothing left... but also the flour was really old and possibly spoiled), while overnight was a bit too much. Even though the dough was covered with clean cloth, it got dry at the surface. Those parts became hard to process later on.

So... when your smooth and hard dough is well rested (I will try some 4-6 hours next time), put it in a strainer (or a bowl if you do not have one), start pouring water over it, and start working it. This way, you will start washing out the starches (amids). You will see milky water coming out (it rather looks like soya drink ;)
My friend suggested warm water, but as that one did not work with the first experiment, I was using almost cold today, and that worked pretty fine.

Keep working the dough untill the water starts clearing out. Your dough won't stick together as nicely and smoothly as it did in the beginning, it will also loose a lot of it's volume. It will look rather ugly. But do not let that worry you.
You want to squeeze it nicely, to wash the starch from all over... not just the surface. What is left will become more and more sticky and will form kind of short threads.
When you think you are finished with washing it, just boil it in salty water (preferably with some spices... garlic... something nice)... and...voila!

Guys, you should definitely try it. When you use a lot of flour... your dough looks like a nice little butt... that you can squeeze and spank.

Cupids are fun!

A cupid came to me. He was showing me a picture of a guy. "Look," he says "he likes old movies, and he's fun, why don't you see him?".

"mhm" I replied.


I did think it was rather a silly idea. But you know how things are... curiosity killed the cat. And so I listened to the Cupid. And it ended up not being silly at all!

 



Simão turned out to be a sympathetic islander (the Terceira kind) with love for climbing!

                           I was not made for online world.

Lost & Found on the web... III

http://www.audioanarchy.org/antiwork/05-The_Abolition_Of_Work.mp3

Pedro is back!

Pedro came back from the states over a week ago... but only today I loured him to climb :)

I realized I missed this. I knew I missed him.

We renamed "Placa sem nome" to "Placa com nome". Next time, we have to do "Equilibrium" :)

In the middle of the night

I had this strange dream today... I woke up and quickly some notes before it swooned in my mind completely. Now I am left with the notes, and little understanding...


was just walking... in a desert or what... stopped...flees...goats. Went on... white bull, no fence, locked, they saved me. explaining? toilet.


I think I am remembering something actually. Like I was walking on a sandy dusty surface between two high fences or walls. There was a very ordinary cow-fence gate in the end. And the pasture (dry'n'dusty?) looked empty. So I opened the gate. I saw fence very close on my left hand side, and the space was opening to the right.
And there he was, a big white bull. I tried to make a move towards the fence (and escape!) to the right, but noticed that he was really angry. I was surprised, as I usually do not get attacked by animals. I thought of returning, but the gate somehow remained open.
A long moment.
Got even longer.
What now? This was wrong!

Well, someone came (probably that kind of agricultural car) and saved me, as my notes say. I was probably trying to explain my presence there by the need to pee.


Hum.
It is great to have dreams!!!

We don't always like what we see when the whirlwind calms down.

...and my head is a whirlwind with elements, tents, graphs and tiredness...

Lost & Found on the web... II

"Learning from mistakes means not thinking about how you can compensate for them, but thinking about how you can avoid them in the future. Not trying to balance yourself, but trying to improve yourself. Not stagnating, but moving forward."

 - S. B. Yapa

Poetry we were forced to learn

"Za trochu lásky šel bych svĕta kraj,
šel s hlavou odkrytou a šel bych bosý,
šel v ledu – ale v duši vĕčný máj,
šel vichřicí – však slyšel zpívat kosy,
šel pouští – a mĕl v srdci perly rosy.
Za trochu lásky šel bych svĕta kraj,
jak ten, kdo zpívá u dveří a prosí."

As kids, we were forced to learn quite a few poems that did not and could not make any sense to us. Like the one about postbox, that I accidentaly remember today while walking Baba. After all those years, it finally popped in.

Made me recall one day, when our Literature teacher came with an offer: "you need to learn (memorize actually) one of Jaroslav Vrchlický's poems". There were two to choose from. One about love (7 lines), and one about winter (52 somewhat shorter lines). Of course everyone's choice was the incomprehensive short thing. Just me and my best friend were taken by a fairytale-like poem about a magician's journey along the world... ...made perfect sense at that time.

As for today, it still does. Learning poems is a piece of cake once you get to understand them.

Anyway. Here goes a translation (collective work)

For a little bit of love I would have walked to the other end of the world, 

I would have walked with uncovered head and barefoot,

I would have walked through the ice yet there would be May in my soul, 

I would have walked through the storm yet i would hear the blackbirds singing, 

I would have walked accross the desert, yet in my heart there would be pearls of dew. 

For a little bit of love i would have walked to the other end of the world,

like he who sings at the doorstep, beseeching.

A haze too real

I dreamed about Sanji again. Very vividly.
Aint he a real person after all?

Reguengo do Fetál

Enchanting weekend in Reguengo.
Ropes, gear, relaxed Yoanna, magic Pedro, nonchalant Jakub and delicious Tagine.

...and lots of routes climbed unhastily.                          

Lost & Found on the web...

“Spiritual practice is the capacity to offer your love even when you feel hurt, closed down, tense, angry, misunderstood, or hated.”
- David Deida

Maybe

It was a sunny day. We were up on a hill, there, were this fresh and dense lawn is. He was lying on his back, eyes closed, some sheets of paper around... just relaxing, maybe sinking into the bed of grass. I was sitting with my legs crossed, enjoying the gentle breeze and the sun in my back.

A mosquito landed on the back of his hand. I hesitated for a while. It was touching his skin with it's needle searching for vulnerable spots. He does not have any, I thought. But what if? I chased it away with a smooth move. The tips of my fingers touched his dark skin. It felt like a sip of water. Very surprising.

He smiled slowly. I noticed how the breeze is playing games with his curls. Suddenly it came to me, that I might have been a bit thirsty and I started analyzing that feeling. Did not stop untill he very quietly cackled. "Ehm?" "Ahh... nothing. Just the hair tickles me in face." His eyes were closed. I reached for the disobedient curl and softly placed it back, where it belonged. Tips of my fingers took advantage of that and without my wanting slipped by his face, almost not touching it. Another deep sip of water.

It took just a spit of a second for my inhibits to fire. They were mercifull and did not take me down this time. I just moved a bit back and took a large smile. He opened his eyes and smiled too. We both laughed at the moment. Relief.
We got up and walked away, like if nothing has happened. Maybe it was so.

Entering someone else's dream

I took the airport bus with Sanji this morning and stayed with him in the line while he waited to take off his shoes and empty his pockets. We held hands and stood together and it was a little awkward, but funny. He's shorter, thinner than me. That was a pretty weird thing for me to acknowledge but it doesnt even matter anymore. The caring love that reaches far out of his soul is large enough to shelter anyone seeking that kind of thing. We talked about porn and women and lots of other insignificants stuff. Words became unimportant. Voice was just a thin lead running to reality. The place was somewhat distant. And yet full of proximity.
The proximity remained even after he left. Well, it had always been here. And I was not afraid to reach for it as my inhibits were off. I walked past purposefull people. Distant and sad to tears, but not alone this time.

The time of shame and embarrassment was gone, all expectations killed, and simple handholding told the entire story. And I knew I was never ever going to meet him again. I could not go through it again. This fire burned everything there was to burn. It provided nourishing ashes for the freshly reborn Phoenix. But that was it. It was a once time only. The Phoenix was aging and could not survive another painfull death, no matter how rewarding the ressurection felt.

I was thinking of him again. How he has been there for me for so long. How I would feed of that loving care returning nothing more than admiration and appreciation. Was that really enough for him? Or was there more to it that I will never understand? Strangely enough, it never occured to me that the reason and motor could be kindness. That kindness that often hurts down in the soul after being discovered. The kindness that has intention to help, but wounds deeply.

Switching paddle for rope

Montejunto was once again beautifull. Scattered clouds, little wind, warm but not burning sun. We did El Manco (charming and long V) in the end of the day. Reached the top around sunset. The dusk came fast.


Lately, I've been enjoying climbing with Jakub.

And I am not speaking just about the nice company he keeps, it is also the simple enjoyment of someone climbing nice.

True, he has strong forearms from playing Canoe-polo. But he also has talent. Or "a heart" for it.