K-Blog

Haven't had a Sunday to myself for a long time now. Slow awakening in pink light through my curtains, sunshine and scent of coffee in my tiny kitchen, little green buds on all my plants, proof that they too, are thriving here. Bikeride with favourite music in my ears, salty air, as I arrive at the ocean and ravishing hunger when I get back in. Cold white wine to hot, hot soup and crisp bacon. Movie on the couch and little catnap as movie fails to entertain me. Then more coffee and music as I shower; I'm off to hear jazz with friend later. What a perfect specimen of a Sunday. I am slowly, slowly relaxing again; building my little home.

It's one of those nights again . And it is so clichè that it bores even me. But it seems that it takes one of these nights to make me sit down (because I can't sleep and have nothing else to do) and finally write something. I had loads of blog-material, loads of moments and stuff to write about, but I sort of got bored before I ever got to post it. It all seemed static noise or meaningless chatter. Fact is, I haven't had time to sit down and write a meaningful post, or that it hasn't been important enough for me to do it. I am living and I am finding my feet again. My core again, actually, but I'll come back to that in another post. I have moved twice since October and hopefully for the last time in a looooong time. I moved away from NV due to circumstances out of my control * the first time, and got a sublease in a wonderful place on Vesterbro. I actually had a piano and a chandelier for a month and a half. I wanted to get pictures taken of me in an evening dre...

She had been reading when I walked by the living room, I was coming down from the rooftop terrace where I had been reading and enjoying the sun. I stopped to say hi, to exchange a few pleasantries and maybe to get to know her better. We had been tip-toeing around each other for a few days, in a very respectful and tender manner. She; because she seems shy and a tiny bit intimidated (his words; not mine); me, because I am curious and very respectful of what *they* have. He; my ex, my first boyfriend in Italy, and (with time) one of my best friends, and her; the tall, dark Brazilian girl (she is actually a woman) with the soft manners and the curious eyes. Now the living room was buzzing with smalltalk, Nix, his brother, the painter and the little mad bookbinder had all joined us. She had been reading a childrens' book, written and illustrated by one of Nix's friends. She was sitting there, impossibly long legs assembled in a lotus-like pose under her, book in her lap and ...

She looked at me with a very vulnerable stare. We were never close but we worked together in the same club as  for 4 or 5 years. She know me as a fun gal, always a bit too outrageous - a wild, but healthy girl as another girl put it - and as the always dancing firestarter. I knew her as the quiet wholesome-pretty cashier, the long-time girlfriend of one of the PRs. Now she looked the shadow of herself, dark circles round her eyes and shabby hair. Must have lost a few pounds as well. I told my story of coming back to Denmark once again. About leaving an attractive job in the advertising business, about starting all over again after more than 18 years in Italy, about leaving, also to try my luck with a Danish boyfriend and about the baddest breakup ever. I made the story short (we were small-talking in the ever-busy same club, after all) and as I said; we were never close at all, I choose whom I show my vulnerability to. When I got to the part about breaking up, she got all soft...

".... small, fat and dark. Olive skin and black eyes. She would have big breasts and a huge bottom. She would laugh way too loud and be pretty vulgar, breasts wobbling while she was laughing. She would swear a lot and speak her mind. Wear vivid colours, big flowing dresses, and be far too honest. But you would have to love her." I absolutely love it when people I like, play along on my beloved "If this wine was a guy/gal, he/she would be..."-game.

- my best friend crawling into my makeshift bed in her livingroom, hugging me happily and serving Italian breakfast.

She's a friend of my brothers wife and I have met her at different family-get-togethers through the years. I always liked her, she's my own age, we have a lot of things in common. I have wanted to see her more now that I am home, but I haven't called her as much as I would like to. She called me yesterday evening and we went out for a few drinks, ended up touring around town and finished with breakfast at KFC at 4 in the morning. She slept over and we had breakfast then lunch as the hours went by and we just kept on talking; skipping effortlessly between deep and shallow,  laughing and generally having a good time. I enjoyed it  *so* much and am so happy today. It feels like I have found a new friend. I talk to my closest Italian friends a lot but they're far away, and while friendships thrive even long-distance, I miss them and would like to share this adventure with them. Not only by phone, but IRL. I would like to share my newfound love for Copenhagen, the cooking ...

Hi dearest...and thank you lots for your sms, I didn't know how to get in touch with you and I had only that number. Please send me another number to call you on asap =). So. How is Holland ? You getting used to it ? It must be so.... different. All the smallest things, the perfumes when you go out, the food you eat, the language around you. The climate. Everything that constantly reminds you that you are not in Italy anymore. Try and hold on to the sensitivity it gives you, all your senses being bombed with new impressions. That's the fun part, I still remember it from my coming to Italy =). How about the house then ? You say there's a lot to do there. I gather you're still moving in, painting and stuff ? I hope you won't become all serious and responsible by this great adventure. That you don't take it too seriously. Think of it as a new start, a new beginning. A new way to apply yourself, maybe the biggest challenge of your life 'till now. I miss you thou...

Actually the title is cheating a bit. Well, ok a lot. This is not really about first impressions, but about how a picture can give us an impression of a person. A true or false impression; I hope to find out one day. We were very very good friends, (or maybe I was more best friends than she was, it has happened before) we went to school together and then we lived together for a period. We went clubbing together, we laughed, cried and got drunk together and then I moved to Copenhagen and we sort of lost contact. Very normal, people outgrow each other, choose different lifestyles bla-bla-bla. We were... what, 17-18 years old. Yesterday I found this best-friends' profiles on a social network site. There wasn't a lot of information there, but there was one picture. She's looking straight into the camera, she looks like she's eating something, and she has *such* a cold look in her eyes. Like she's bored, or unhappy or just couldn't care less. Arrogant even. I'm p...

Let's get it out of the way as I see it coming: The following is a description of a fraction of nightlife. I was not influenced by drugs or anything stronger than 2 Cubanas. This might actually be true. So decide for yourself I lived a rare moment of perfect happiness yesterday night. In a discoteque yes, (wonder of wonders, I lived a lot of joyous moments in clubs) but it never fails to hit me with the same sense of wonder and awe when all of a sudden I seem to see everything with this clarity. I feel set apart, I feel a voyeur to all these beautiful people struggling to live, to breathe, to come to terms with this life, and that go to the clubs hoping to have fun, and maybe to meet that special someone. Yesterday was special in that it was Halloween and I felt tenderness seeing the energy, the time that some people put into dressing up in beautiful and not so beautiful costumes (it being Halloween). I wandered through the sweating crowd, just smelling my way, drifting with my awf...

I have been looking forward to this day since  Sunday. I have been invited to a wine-tasting in Cortona, more precisely "40 years of Barolo" hosted by Fontanafredda (admittedly not maker of the best Barolos but I will.... you know, sacrifice myself and taste them anyway =). The wines I am bound to swoon over are the following (and obviously I love the thought of wines being older than I am) : Barolo 1967 Barolo la Rosa 1978 Barolo la Rosa 1982 Barolo la Rosa 1996 Barolo la Rosa 2004 and the menu is based on white truffles. Only catch is; I don't like truffles. Neither the white ones nor the black ones. I can't wait to *learn* to appreciate them, I love the thought of food that I don't like now, but that I might appreciate in a few years as my taste changes. I didn't always like beer for example, and I am still learning to appreciate mushrooms, there's a small issue with the... feel of them in my mouth . Tonight might be a good chance to try *yet* again the...

I'm in dire need of some quality time with my bed. I spent a wonderful night with the girlfriends yesterday night, though I was on the brink of cancelling last-minute. Good thing I didn't, it was lovely to see them and I got to know some interesting and funny new people as well. I didn't eat very well (it always seems that food isn't a priority to my GFs, hmmm) but we laughed a lot, talked a lot and networked a lot.  I'm spent though. I'll try and get a quiet night in tonight; chicklit, warm soup, Sagi Rei in my ears and my fab red bed... mmmmmm heaven