It is so hot, almost not real, 30C in the shadow. I wonder when Hungary starts to introduce siesta. My friend Eszter, who lives in Italy enjoys all the benefit of that wonderful innovation/tradition of SIESTA. Around this time of the day, all one wants to do is have a nap after lunch. Even to cycle back from mum`s and dad`s after that delicious food feels a great physical challenge. Little more than 10 minutes on my almost 20 years old racing bike and it feels like I have to conquer the Great Plain. I remember saving all my pocket money for 2 years to get that bike and asking for money for birthdays and Christmases to speed the collection up. It was less than 10.000Ft/£35 at that time. I can`t even find the Csepel brand on the web any more but I`ve seen a second-hand one for 30.000Ft/£100. I came across a bike, which costs 309.000Ft/£1000! That is crazy!
A couple of years ago someone asked me here in the village, what kind of car I drive in London. I said, my favourite type the one I always wanted the number 15 Bus. But I have a one more, very good quality, which is quicker and called Tube Central Line. The person looked very surprised why I haven’t got a car and didn’t really get the joke. I don’t need one I said and I can`t afford it either. Somebody else once told me, I should really buy a little Toyota car so when am home I could just use it to visit mum and dad. I did mention my green concerns about cars both times. We could use public transport and bikes, latter is very good for excising, but I didn’t sound very convincing at all, because having a nice car here is a way of displaying wealth. I find it overall refreshing to cycle. The air is so heavy with nature that you can almost float on it and a lot more healthy than walking on The Highway in Shadwell. I often feel sick and cover my nose with a scarf on the way to church it is so concentrated with smog.
Abut lunch: traditional Potato Soup, delicious with ground paprika and `Fank` /doughnut with home made plum and grape jam. I haven’t had fank for years! Traditionally we only used to make it around the carnival time at the end of winter. Commercial doughnuts have nothing really to do with the traditional fresh home-made fank, which is just delicious. It used to be served with plum jam that was made by families in the village for centuries. The hard work lasts almost a whole day preparing the jam jars, picking the plums and getting the pips out. The best plum jam is hard and been cooked for very long hours in a big iron pot outside the house. Nowadays it can be done in the oven and to make it quicker it is advisable to mince it beforehand. But what I really want to write about is the grape jam. Mum made it from the grape that grows by their house. As far as I remember as a little girl I`ve been told a story about the origin of those grapes by grannies best friend who was brought up in that house. She said the grapes were planted by her dad, who had brought the `Italian Runner` grape sticks from Italy where he served as a solider during World War l. I asked mum today, but she wasn’t sure about the story and dad thinks it was his uncle who brought sticks from the Italian front and he never planted them by that house. Anyway, the jam is delicious and I do like the story of the grape that is much admired for its unique taste. It is so tempting that people just open the front gate and pick a bunch, so we have to lock the it when the grapes ripe otherwise no jam until the following year.
The wool for the sauna products, I am making for my thesis as a case study for Glocal Trinovation is almost dry and I could start combing it tomorrow. I hope the moth not going to get into it, until I get some lavender. I should have put a bunch in the last water before spinning and drying.
I have more than 2000 word now, which is a great achievement. I am so grateful for this time, I can stay here at home and not having to rush to work. It gives studying a unique quality I have not known before.
I am going to have to try to write about the Footsteps of the Lost Shells for Eszter and e-mail Edwin about the miraculous growth of the Mozambican Youth Ministry.
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